by Snow, Lucy
“Harrison Troy.”
“Yes, Harrison Troy, but at the time I didn’t know that. He stood outside the light, and told Steve Clausen to get off me and leave me alone.”
“And what happened next?”
“At first Steve didn’t listen. At first Steve tried to get Harrison to leave us alone, but of course Harrison wouldn’t do that. Even before he was a soldier, Harrison wouldn’t have let that happen.” Of course, I didn’t know that part for a fact, but I’d like to think that even at his worst, Harrison would never let that happen to anybody Without stepping in.
“And then?”
“Harrison wouldn’t take no for an answer, and came forward, and fought with Steve.” I described the fight in as much detail as I could remember, making sure to stress that Harrison only got into the fight to make sure I was okay, And that Steve wouldn’t let it go, or let me go.
After I was finished, Officer Stallman had one more question. “So, it is your statement, truthful to the best of your knowledge, that Harrison Troy assaulted Steve Clausen on Friday, two nights ago, because Steve Clausen was in the process of sexually assaulting you when Harrison Troy came across both of you?”
“Yes, officer Stallman, that is my statement. It is the truth. Harrison Troy was defending me from Steve Clausen. That is why they got into the fight.”
“All right, thank you very much Miss Gold. This statement is terminated.” Officer Stallman reached over and stopped the recording. He looked at me. “Thank you very much for giving us that statement, Miss Gold. I understand that it couldn’t have been easy for you. Would you stay right here for a few minutes?”
I nodded, and Officer Stallman stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.I was alone again, alone in the interrogation room with the now dredged up memories of two nights ago.
I was surprised that I felt better about it already. What Steve Clausen had done to me was terrible, but Harrison had arrived in the nick of time and saved me. I know that going out to the parking lot with Steve just so soon after meeting him was not the brightest idea, but that didn’t excuse what he did, not at all. I would make better decisions in the future, but right now the important thing was making sure Harrison didn’t get in trouble just for saving his stepsister.
I don’t know how long I sat there, because I didn’t check my phone when I came in, and there were no clocks that I could see. Probably a good interrogation tactic, to leave the suspect with no way of telling time. I wonder if Harrison was sitting in a similar room right now. Maybe one of the other two after this one in the hallway.
I felt good that I had told the police about what happened on Friday. It felt good to tell the story, to get it off my chest, and not to sweep it under the rug. I had heard from friends back in New York City about times when dates with guys had gotten a little aggressive before they were ready, and I knew that it was almost never reported to the police. Women just didn’t want the shame of talking to the police, of admitting to bad decisions, of looking like maybe they wanted it, or something and how they dressed or acted was asking for it. That was never the case.
And I felt good for standing up for myself and telling the police about it. I wondered why I’d gone the entire day yesterday without thinking to do so. What did it say about me that I would only stick up for myself is meant helping someone else?
I was still mulling this over when the door opened, and Officer Stallman piqued his head inside. “Miss Gold, would you come with me for a second, please?”
I stood up and picked up the paper cup, full of water forgotten until now. Suddenly finding myself very thirsty, I grounded in one large sip, and threw it in the trash can next to the table. Then I followed Officer Stallman’s head into the hallway.
The other officer from last night stood one door over, and watched this approach. “Hello again, Miss Gold.” The younger officer greeted me, Just as cold as the night before.
“Hello officer,” I said as sweetly as I could, “I don’t remember your name.”
“Officer Jefferson. That’s okay, we didn’t get much chance to talk last night.”
“That’s right, you were too busy arresting my step brother in our house.”
His face dropped for a moment, then he regained his steely composure. “That would have gone… a little easier if your stepbrother hadn’t been so aggressive.”
I left it at that, looking up at both of them expectantly. “Well, what can I do for you both? Do you have any questions about my statement?”
“No,” started Officer Stallman. “Your statement was fine, thank you for being so forthcoming. We wanted to talk to you about your stepbrother, and where things would go from here.”
He said it without any warmth, any of the good feeling he’d used earlier in the interrogation room. My heart sank this couldn’t be good. Whatever I had said, whatever my statement had been, clearly it wasn’t enough.
Harrison will was going to jail, and he would go to jail for the crime of helping his stepsister. I couldn’t believe it. I just wanted this to be over. I wanted to pick up Harrison, and take them home, and we can forget all about the last 12 hours, and get back to more of the three hours that happen before it. Was that too much to ask?
“Okay, officers. Let me have it. What’s he looking at? Where do we go from here?” I didn’t think the answer was going to be good, and if it wasn’t, I didn’t really want to hear it, but I also knew the only way out is this was forward. We have to go deeper into the tunnel before we could escape.
I just hoped I had the strength.
“You know what? When we speak to both of you at the same time. That’ll make this easier.” Officer Jefferson nodded, and reached for the door. When he opened it, I cautiously looked inside, and was overjoyed to find Harrison sitting at the table, just like I had in the other room.
Chapter 18 - The Interrogation
Harrison was wearing the same clothes as last night, the only difference was that his hands were still cuffed together. The shout that he let out when he first saw me is something I’ll never forget. It was a mixture of happiness and frustration all mixed into one.
I had to stop myself from rushing forward and throwing my arms around him, and I managed to keep it to just stepping in as casually as I could. “Harrison, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Laurel. You shouldn’t have Come. I didn’t want to get you involved.”
“You know I am involved, Harrison. This was all about me and we both know it. You can’t keep me safe from everything.” I wrapped my arms around him and we hugged. Well, as much of a hug as you can complete with one person in handcuffs.
“Not when you don’t let me.” I could tell he was relieved, but also annoyed with me, like I didn’t trust him to take care of himself or me.
“I’m here now, though, and I’m involved. Can we just let it go at that?”
Harrison looked tired and strained, and like he wanted to argue some more. He leaned his head forward and looked around me, noticing Stallman and Jefferson still in the doorway.
He sighed, closing his eyes and pointing his face to the ceiling. “Fine,” he breathed. “I’m glad you’re here, even if I’m not doing a good job of showing it.”
At least that was something. I guess I could call that a good start. For Harrison, though, it probably took all the effort he could muster after spending the night in a jail cell.
I wasn’t sure if it was his first time doing so, but I had a strong hunch it wasn’t. He looked a little too comfortable in his present surroundings for this to be totally new to him.
A twinge of anger ran through me, making me shiver out of reflex. Anger at Harrison for living his life in such a way that he’d frequent police stations; anger at myself for not seeing and appreciating enough just how much Harrison was trying to fix his life.
I couldn’t hold back any longer, and despite stopping myself earlier, I reached forward, leaning over, and threw my arms around his strong neck. Harrison still looked at the
ceiling, and when I pulled myself close to him he turned to me in surprise, almost banging our heads together. I didn’t care, I just wanted him to know how much I missed him, how bad the last 12 hours had been for me too, even if I wasn’t able to put it in to words with the police officers around.
I just needed him to know, and I hoped he understood.
Harrison said nothing to suggest he did, just nodded at me. I squeezed him tight one more time then let my arms fall to my side, sighing at breaking off contact with him.
One of the police officers coughed, both of them still in the doorway. I felt my cheeks flush, and wondered if either of them suspected things between Harrison and I, while still murky, were not the typical relations between a stepbrother and stepsister. I had to be on the lookout for either of them looking at us funny.
I turned and faced them both. “Shall we get started?” Officer Stallman asked. Now he and officer Jefferson had a cup of coffee wafting steam upward in their hands - one of them must have made a trip to the kitchen while Harrison and I talked.
I stared at the floor, still embarrassed by showing that much affection for Harrison in public, though, “public” didn’t really do a police station justice.
Hah, justice. Good one, Laurel!
“Yes, of course, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
Officer Jefferson bristled. “We do a lot of waiting around here.”
With a glance at Jefferson, Officer Stallman turned back to me. “Don’t mind him, he hates weekend shifts.”
“I can’t imagine being away from your family on a weekend during the holidays,” I consoled officer Jefferson, trying to establish at least a little rapport with him.
Officer Stallman poked Jefferson in the ribs as he spoke. “This guy? Getting away from his family is the best part about it. Plus the extra pay. Doesn’t make him any more of a pleasure to work with, though.”
Jefferson gave him a glance and straightened up, sipping his coffee without a word. Stallman nodded back to him and straightened up himself.
They both looked at us like a jeweler looked at an uncut stone. Finally, Officer Stallman stepped into the room, Jefferson following him close behind. “Can we get you anything?”
Harrison and I both said in unison, “no thanks”. Stallman nodded and came around the table, taking a seat at the far end. Officer Jefferson sat directly opposite Harrison. That was my cue, and I took the chair right next to Harrison.
We settled down and looked each other over, the two officers taking languorous sips from their coffee cups, while Harrison sat with his eyes closed, almost as calm as the police.
I remember reading that one of the ways the police assessed guilt was by how calm and collected the suspects were. The more relaxed they were during interrogation, the more likely they were guilty. An innocent person would try to do anything to clear their name, but a guilty suspect might just accept their fate, maybe even with a little relief.
If that was the case, Harrison looked guilty as all hell, despite looking as calm as the Buddha. I didn’t know how to help him, and I didn’t have any way to tell him to step out of it. It’s not like I knew what I was doing; I hadn’t been in a police station since I was a child.
Officer Stallman broke the silence. “Harrison, do you know why you’re here?”
Harrison took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened his eyes, staring officer Stallman down. Jefferson leaned forward, the beginnings of a sneer on his face, wanting to hear what Harrison said. “I have to be pretty thick not to know by now. I’ve been here for more than 12 hours.”
Stallman and Jefferson both nodded at the same time. “Then why don’t you tell us, why you’re here. Just so were all clear,” Jefferson said, laying the sarcasm on as thick as he could, as if with a knife.
Harrison stayed defiant, not saying a word. At this point, neither of the officers looked surprised. I had a hunch this was how the entire night had gone. They must have dragged out his cell every couple hours, wanting to talk, wanting to see if he would give them any information at all. If there was anything Harrison was good at, it was putting on a very convincing portrayal of a statue. I got a glimpse of it right then.
Officer Stallman’s eyes flicked towards me. “Now, you see what we’ve been working with?”
I nodded, trying to put on a brave face, to support Harrison’s lack of cooperation, but at the same time I wondered if it was the right move. These two police officers held Harrison’s future in their hands. Depending on how he talked to them, interacting with them, they would decide what the next steps for his case were.
I wanted to say something, both to Harrison and private, or to the police officers. I wanted to assure them that Harrison would cooperate, that he’d done nothing wrong, and that he intended to fight these charges. I wanted to say these things because Harrison wouldn’t say them for himself. Some messed up since pride Wouldn’t let him.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to call our parents, but at the same time I knew Harrison wouldn’t let them help him. He didn’t need anyone, and he wouldn’t let them in, wouldn’t let them protect him.
And I shuddered to think what my father would do when he found out. Not only would he blow up at Harrison, I might even end up in his crosshairs after not telling them. Worse, my father’s health wasn’t exactly the best these days - he could use a lot more exercise in his day. I worried for his heart if he found out.
Of course, he would find out, if this didn’t end soon. Our parents would be back from wherever they were some time this afternoon. I dreaded that conversation.
“Oh hey, Laurel, we’re back from the cabin. Looks like you didn’t burn the house down, that’s good!”
“Yeah, I wanted to, but I was all out of matches, and it was too cold to go out and get some more.”
“Next time stock up in advance, that’s what I always say? Say, on that note, where’s your brother?”
“Stepbrother.”
“Right, right. Where is he, anyway?”
“About that…”
Yeah it wouldn’t go so well from that point on. Ruth would cry, and Dad would console her for a few minutes while the anger boiled up inside him. All that effort, he would stay, all that time and effort trying to help Harrison clean up his life and escape his past, all down the drain.
My father was really big on dramatic stuff; couldn’t resist. He liked to make mountains out of slight inclines in the ground, but this time I was worried he’d be right.
Harrison could really screw up his life in the next couple hours. Sure, he’d served his country in the military and gone to war to make sure people were safe - he was a decorated soldier. But the justice system still didn’t take too kindly to soldiers who beat up regular people. Even if those regular people were up to no good.
If this case kept going beyond today, Harrison could be looking at serious jail time, and after that, who would hire him? He’d have to disclose that he was a convicted felon on every job application, and I had a good feeling that would outweigh anything he could tell a prospective employer about his prior military service.
And it wasn’t like Harrison was formally out of the military yet - they probably be too thrilled with a soldier being charged or even convicted of a felony while on leave. This was getting worse and worse the more I thought about it. I stared at Harrison, trying to figure out what his game was.
Did he think that if he said nothing this whole thing would just go away? Did he think they would just let him go with a pat on the back after what he’d done, no matter the circumstances?
After all his dealings with the police so far, and all his time in the military, did he really know so little about how the whole world worked?
No one had said anything in a long time. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Harrison? Anything at all that could help you out, give us a little insight into what happened?”
Harrison said nothing, his eyes forward, not looking at anything or anyone in particular. Maybe h
e was inspecting the far wall for hairline cracks or a bad paint job. I couldn’t tell.
“Because, son, let me tell you…”
Harrison’s face turned almost purple with rage. “Don’t call me son,” he whispered, if you could call it that. It was a whisper with teeth. Teeth that said don’t go down that road any further, for that way madness lay.
Officer Stallman held up his hand and waved Harrison off. “Right, right, well, let me just tell you, Harrison,” he emphasized the name, and I exhaled sharply, “you’re not really helping yourself out here.”
“Yeah, these stonewalling tactics might help overseas,” Officer Jefferson butted in, cutting Stallman off, “but back here in America we prefer it when suspects cooperate.”
Stallman gripped Jefferson’s shoulder, and I could see it wasn’t a casual hold. Jefferson winced at the force Stallman used. “That was out of line, Jefferson, and you know it.”
Stallman didn’t let go of Jefferson’s shoulder till he nodded. When Stallman let his hand fall, Jefferson immediately reached up and massaged his shoulder gingerly, his face flushed. Jefferson clearly was not happy that Stallman had embarrassed him in front of us. Still, what he’d said was totally out of line, and I respected Stallman for pointing it out in such a forceful way.
“Where were we?”
Still Harrison said nothing, and I didn’t know what to do either. How could I let him stay silent? But what could I say to help? He clearly didn’t want to talk, clearly didn’t want to explain what really happened. I had no idea why.
“Oh right, the silent treatment. I figured I left that at home,” Stallman joked, trying to lighten the mood. No one responded, and he waved it away again, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip, scowling at the result. “Every time I get my hopes up, and every time they’re dashed on the rocky shore of bad coffee mountain.” He sighed as he put the cup down.
“Well,” he said, sitting up straighter and reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a pen and notebook, “this really isn’t getting us anywhere, Harrison. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make a statement, to say something in your defense. Tell me something, something I can use to help you out.”
