I stared at the foreboding building in front of us. Two brick buildings fused together. It reminded me of an elementary school except there weren’t any windows. There were big beautiful trees in full bloom lining the sidewalk. A tall vertical sign with POLICE written in dark black letters stood in front of the door.
I turned to look at Joe. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and bringing me here. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“You might not want to thank me. You’re going to jail because of my help.” He laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Come one, the sooner we get you in, the sooner you get out.”
I rolled my eyes at his corny joke and let him lead me inside, taking huge gulping breaths of air, trying to get as much into my lungs as possible before it was stripped from me. My heart pounded in my chest and I was glad for Joe’s steadying arm around me. He pushed open the glass doors to reveal a police officer and metal detector in front of us.
“Empty your pockets.” The officer handed us a plastic bin that Joe plopped his keys into.
I walked through first, followed by Joe. He handed him his keys back. I’d never been inside a police department before and hadn’t expected it to be empty. There were chairs lining each side of the small room occupied by a sole man who was busy tapping away on his phone. There was a desk in the center of the room with a woman dressed in plain clothes sitting behind it. There were two sets of doors—one on her right and one on her left.
“What do I do?” I whispered to Joe.
“Just walk up to her and tell her you have to turn yourself in because you have a warrant for your arrest. I’ll stay with you for as long as I can, I promise.”
I took a deep breath and moved forward. She had her head down staring at a stack of papers and barely looked up when she saw me.
“Excuse me,” I said.
She didn’t look up. “What?”
“I have a warrant for my arrest. I’m here to turn myself in.”
This is really happening.
She finally looked up. She had a pinched face with barely-there lips that pursed together as she looked at me. “What’s your name?”
“Celeste.”
She rolled her eyes. “I need your last name too. I have to look you up in the system.”
“Reynolds. Celeste Reynolds.”
She typed my name into her computer. I couldn’t see the monitor but she crinkled her forehead at whatever she was reading.
“Wait here a minute.” She got up, scanning me from the top of my head all the way down to my shoes. She moved out from behind her desk and headed through the door on her right.
“Breathe,” Joe said. “One step at a time. That’s how you’re going to get through this. One step at a time.”
He’d been saying the same thing since we left Minnesota.
It seemed like an eternity before she returned.
“Come with me,” she ordered, motioning from the doorway.
I grabbed onto Joe. “Can I at least say good-bye to him?”
“You don’t have to. Bring him with.”
I gripped onto his forearm, wanting to hold on for as long as I could. We followed her down a long hallway passing a series of closed doors. She opened one on the right. It was filled with three chairs and a small table. The cream paint was peeling off the walls and the floor’s linoleum was pulling up in some places. The room smelled of old food.
She motioned to the chairs. “Sit. Someone will be with you shortly.”
She shut the door without a backward glance. Joe took a seat in the chair, but I was too nervous to sit. I paced the small room back and forth feeling my anxiety rise with each step. This was it. There wasn’t any going back now. Not being able to run even if I wanted to made me feel like a caged animal.
Two men walked into the room, but they weren’t dressed like police officers like I’d expected. Both wore ties. Their shirts were tucked neatly into their pants with clean black shoes and cellphones clipped to their belts. One of them held a folder. Their presence made the small room shrink and the walls felt as if they’d collapse on me.
“Take a seat,” the taller one said in a gruff voice.
We did as we were told. Joe grabbed my hand but I couldn’t feel his fingers on my skin. My insides were on fire, but I was freezing. They towered over us, taking us in.
“I’m Officer Dwayne and this is my partner Enrique.” The tall one introduced himself, pointing to the other man on his left. “Is it okay if we record this conversation?”
I nodded.
“You need to speak your answers,” Dwayne said.
“Yes.” My voice was barely audible. “Yes,” I said again. This time raising it to a level where they could hear it.
Enrique pulled out a tape recorder and set it on the table. It was just like every crime movie I’d seen. He pushed a button. “Are you Celeste Reynolds?”
I nodded.
“You need to speak your answers.” His voice was short and clipped, all business.
“Yes.”
“Can you state your name for the record?”
“Celeste Reynolds.”
“Birthdate?”
“March third, nineteen seventy-three.”
“What’s your social security number?”
“649-788-9525.”
Dwayne handed him the folder and Enrique took a seat at the table. He opened the folder and began skimming papers. It took everything I had not to grab the folder and see what they’d written about me.
“Celeste, do you know you’re listed as a missing person?” Enrique asked.
“I guess so. I assumed I probably was.”
“Who are you?” Dwayne directed his questions toward Joe.
“I’m Joe Ramsey. I’m a friend.”
“Are you comfortable with Joe being in the room?” he asked.
I nodded then quickly remembered I had to speak my answers. “Yes. That’s fine. I want him here.”
“I have to ask—are you in any danger?”
“No.”
“What brings you in here today?”
“I wanted to turn myself in.”
“Have you spoken with your relatives and friends?”
“No.”
“Why did you choose to come here rather than return to your family and friends?”
It was an odd question. Were they trying to trap me? Was I supposed to talk about what I’d done before they read me my rights? Joe had given me very specific instructions not to talk to anyone until I had a lawyer present even if the lawyer was someone from the county. I looked toward him for help. He was eyeing the officers suspiciously.
“Before anything gets started, she’d like to have a lawyer,” Joe said.
The officers exchanged glances. Enrique spoke. “Have you committed a crime?”
“I–”
“Don’t answer that!” Joe interrupted.
“Sir, I’m a little confused as to what your role is in this case,” Dwayne said.
“Like I said. I’m her friend and I’m just watching out for her. I know how these things work. She needs a lawyer if she’s going to give you a statement.”
“I’m unclear as to what she’s giving a statement about.” Dwayne looked annoyed. “We’re not out to get her. We’re just trying to help get this thing sorted out and make sure she’s safe.”
“We know police officers sometimes get a bad reputation and make people nervous, but I assure you that we’re only here to help her,” Enrique said.
“She’s doesn’t need help. She needs a lawyer.” Joe folded his hands tightly in his lap.
Enrique and Dwayne were getting irritated and I didn’t want them upset. I wanted them to see me in a favorable light and getting them upset wasn’t a good idea.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to settle down. You’re going to need to settle down or I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the room until this is taken care of,” Dwayne said.
�
��I know her rights.” Joe jumped up from his chair.
“Sit. Down. Now.”
Enrique rose from his chair and the two of them formed a barricade in front of him and the door. Joe sat back down. I placed my hand on his knee, hoping it’d keep him there.
“We’re going to start this over from the beginning because I can see we’re not getting off to a good start. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” Enrique pointed his question back at me.
I chose my words carefully. “There’s a warrant for my arrest and I wanted to turn myself in.”
Enrique eyed me. “We’re not showing any warrants for your arrest in the system.”
“Maybe the warrant is in another city? Maybe it wasn’t filed here?”
“We have access to the entire criminal database for the United States. When a person has a warrant it goes into the database no matter which state it’s in. If you had a warrant for an arrest, it would show up in our system,” Enrique said.
How was that possible? They had to know it was me. I’d left fingerprints everywhere. I hadn’t hidden anything I’d done. My vomit was all over the hotel bathroom and David knew I was the last person with Phil. I had no idea what to say or how to respond.
“Maybe this will help us solve the problem. What do you think the warrant is for?” Dwayne asked.
I looked toward Joe. He shrugged his shoulders as bewildered as I was.
“Murder.” The word dropped like a bomb from my mouth.
“Murder?” Dwayne raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. Murder.”
“Can you give us a moment?” Dwayne asked.
“Sure.”
They stepped out of the room.
“What’s going on?” I turned to Joe. “This seems super weird. Are they trying to trap me?”
“I have absolutely no clue what’s going on. None,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t a warrant show up in the system? What does that mean?” I asked.
“Maybe you were never charged? I don’t know. I wish we’d talked to a lawyer before we came. Dammit.” He’d wanted to call his lawyer before we came, but I hadn’t let him.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“I guess just wait to see what they have to say. This is bizarre.”
It wasn’t long before they returned. This time they brought another officer with him who was dressed in police clothes.
“Celeste, this is Officer Ryan. He’s here in case we need to read you your rights,” Dwayne said.
In case they needed to read me my rights? Didn’t they always have to read you your rights before they arrested you?
“Okay,” I said.
“We’re going to need your help in figuring this out. Can you tell us whose murder you think you’re being charged with?” Officer Ryan asked.
Should I answer the question? Was it incriminating myself? Did it matter even if I was? It wasn’t as if I was going to plead not guilty. I was guilty and wanted to be responsible for my actions.
I cleared my throat. “Phil Williams.”
Officer Ryan took his pad out and scribbled on it.
“Is Phil Williams from California?” Dwayne asked.
“Yes, he was from Los Angeles. He lived in Beverly Hills.”
“Do you know his age?”
“He was forty-eight or forty-nine. Something like that.”
“Describe him for me.”
“He was tall, a little over six feet, I think. He had light brown hair with green eyes. A square, angular face.”
“Any distinct markings? Tattoos? Piercings? Birthmarks? Scars?”
“I don’t think so.”
Officer Ryan stepped out of the room. Enrique and Dwayne remained rooted to their spots. I was thankful there wasn’t anything in my stomach because I felt like I might throw up at any minute. The only sound in the room was our breathing and the tick of the clock hanging on the wall. The minutes dragged by. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Joe looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Finally, Officer Ryan returned. He handed me a piece of paper with a picture printed on the middle. I looked down. It was a picture of a California Driver’s License. I looked at the picture. Phil’s face stared back up at me.
“Is that the Phil Williams you’re referring to?” Officer Ryan asked.
I swallowed the taste of bile rising in my throat.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Ms. Reynolds, Phil Williams isn’t dead. He’s very much alive.”
My head swirled. Blood drained down to my feet. Bright white lights flashed. Their images blurred in front of my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. Then, darkness.
I felt a cold washcloth on my face. I opened my eyes. Florescent lights shown into my eyes, making me squint. Joe’s face peered over me. Officer Ryan kneeled next to me with a cup of water.
“Do you think you can get up?” he asked.
I raised my head slowly, feeling a rush of blood move through it. I sat on the cold floor, with my legs straight out in front of me. Joe supported my back with his hands.
“You fainted,” Officer Ryan said.
I’d never fainted before. I still felt disoriented. What was going on? Nothing made sense. Nothing. Enrique and Dwayne were still in the room with their arms folded across their chests in matching poses.
“But, I…. but, I….” I stumbled to find the words, but they weren’t there. The entire world had shifted underneath me. I felt like I needed to hold on or it would spin out of control.
“Let me explain something to you.” Enrique pushed the record button again. “Last year police were called to the Hollywood Palms Motel due to a domestic disturbance. We arrived to find a man severely beaten in one of the rooms. He was identified in the hospital as Phil Williams. We interviewed him once he was out of intensive care, but he refused to provide a statement to the police and dismissed pressing any charges. He wouldn’t comply with our investigation and we couldn’t force him to tell us what happened,” Enrique said.
“We get called to that hotel all the time because lots of criminal activity goes on there. It’s full of pimps, prostitutes, and drug dealers. People are always getting beat up and rarely report those crimes. We didn’t think anything of it when he refused to file a report. Happens all the time. We could’ve filed it anyway, but nobody ever talks in those cases. It would’ve been a waste of our energy and time,” David said.
Phil was alive? But I’d touched him to make sure. I’d felt him and there wasn’t a pulse. How was that possible? A mixture of emotions flooded through me. Fear. Relief. Sadness. Pain. Confusion. Hope. I didn’t know which one to land on. They all flitted through me.
“How’d you know who she was? Why did the lady at the front desk find her in the computer?” Joe asked.
“She’s been reported as a missing person. Her mother, Cheryl Reynolds, filed a missing report on June 2nd, 2014,” Enrique said.
“Did you go missing voluntarily?” Dwayne asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Did someone force you to leave? Were you kidnapped? Were you in danger?”
“It was a difficult time. My daughter was very sick and my husband and I were fighting. I thought I killed Phil.” I realized my words didn’t make sense, but nothing going on made sense.
“You were the one who attacked Phil?” Dwayne asked.
“Yes, it was me.”
Officer Ryan’s phone buzzed. He picked it up to look at it. He glanced toward Dwayne and Enrique. “I’ve got to take this call. Anything else you need from me?” They shook their heads in unison. Officer Ryan stuck out his hand to me. “Good luck, Ms. Reynolds.”
“Thank you.”
Dwayne and Enrique stepped into the hallway with him, leaving the door open as they huddled together whispering. Dwayne headed down the hallway and Enrique walked back in.
“It sounds like this is a domestic dispute. We try to stay out of domestic disputes unless someone is in danger. I need to ask you again—are you safe?”
“Here’s what we do with missing person cases. By law, I’m required to contact the person who filed the missing person’s report. In this case, I’ll be contacting your mother. I’ll let her know you’re alive and we’ve located you. However, I can’t give her any information about your location or your whereabouts without your consent.”
“Can I call her?”
“Of course you can. You’re free to do whatever you’d like. Going missing isn’t a crime. People do it all the time. I just have to notify her as part of protocol.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to me. “I want you to take my card. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to give me a call. Anytime.”
He stood and it took Joe and me a moment to realize he was waiting for us to stand with him. I rose in slow motion following him out the door, back down the long hallway, and into the waiting room. We pushed through the heavy door, the sun and fresh air greeting us. We stood on the sidewalk, stunned.
I felt dazed like I was in a dream. Phil was alive? I wasn’t going to jail? None of it seemed possible. What did I do now?
Joe started jumping up and down. “Oh my God, this is crazy. You’re free!”
It still wasn’t sinking in. I kept waiting for one of the officers to rush out and grab me, telling me it was all a mistake and Phil was really dead. But no one came behind us. I was free to go. I walked back to the truck slowly trying to absorb what had just happened.
“Damn, I wish I drank. If ever there was a time to drink—this is it.” Joe laughed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The call to my mom was easy to make in comparison to the call I was going to have to make to David. My mom started crying as soon as she heard my voice.
“I thought I lost you, too. Where were you? What happened? Where are you now?”
“I’m in LA. I’m staying at a hotel. I just left the police station–”
“The police station? Oh God. I knew someone took you. Are you okay? Are you safe? How’d you get away?”
“I’m okay, Mom.” Her sobs broke in. I waited for them to subside. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
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