Rainey laughed, which caused Rex to jerk her toward the waiting police cruiser and hand her off to a female officer. “Book her on suspicion of first degree murder, and make damn sure she’s read her rights at every turn. This one is by the book. No mistakes.”
“Molly will meet you there, Rainey,” Katie shouted. “I love you.”
Rainey managed a smile. “I love you, too. Go home. Stay with the kids. I’ll call you.”
She lowered her head and sat down in the back of a police car in cuffs, for the first time since playing the part of a prisoner during academy training. This was real and quite a different experience, she noted.
Rex stuck his head in the open door. “You think that pretty little thing will wait for you while you rot in prison?”
Rainey didn’t take the bait. She smiled. “Don’t scratch the car, Rex. It’s worth more than your pension.”
“Your father was an arrogant ass, too,” he snarled.
“Did my dad kick your ass or something? I’d be shocked if he did. He rarely lost his temper, and you would’ve needed a much larger set of balls to challenge him.” Rainey made no effort to conceal her contempt. She knew she should stop, but the opportunity was too great. She took one more manhood-questioning jab at Rex. “Oh wait, did he fuck your wife? Now, that sounds like him. He was a real ladies man.”
The fact that he flushed scarlet and slammed the car door told Rainey all she needed to know. Old Billy had a fling with someone Rex cared about. She was mulling that over when the female officer climbed into the front seat, chuckling.
She made eye contact with Rainey in the mirror and smiled. “You told that man he had tiny nads and called his wife a ‘ho’ with a smile on your face. Girl, I don’t care if you did kill somebody. That was some funny shit.”
“I don’t know,” Rainey said. “I’m having a hard time imagining my dad with someone who would sleep with Rex King. That’s a bit—disconcerting.”
She smiled through the window at Katie, who blowing kisses as the cruiser pulled away. She looked up to see the officer watching her in the mirror.
“That’s my wife,” Rainey said with pride. Ignoring her circumstances, or maybe because of them, she began to tell the officer about her family. “We have triplets, a girl and two boys, Weather, Timothy, and Mack. They just turned a year old. You should see –”
#
“We can’t put a former FBI agent in the general population,” the guard on Rainey’s right said, as she was being led to a holding cell in the Durham County Detention Center.
“King said put her in with last night’s trash,” the guard on her left said.
Rainey remained quiet. She stopped talking when they reached the jail, where she was humiliated with a strip search and given an orange jumpsuit and slippers to wear. This was all special treatment, arranged just for her by Rex King, whose demise she was plotting with each step toward the jail cell. She should have been downstairs, in her own clothes, awaiting her lawyer. This was a little treat Rex designed to frighten Rainey. She was not afraid. She was livid.
The guards stopped in front of a large cell with seven women already inside.
“Open twenty-six,” the guard on the left said into her radio.
The guard on her right opened the cell door when the dead bolts clunked open. “Don’t tell them who you are,” she whispered to Rainey.
Rainey did not acknowledge the advice. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would not be able to stop the flow of obscene suggestions of what Rex King could do with his arrest warrant. The warning was pointless anyway.
One of the prisoners stood and pointed at Rainey. “Look here, y’all. We got us a good girl gone bad, a real live FBI agent coming to join us.”
The friendly guard held fast to Rainey’s arm. “We can’t put her in there. If something happens, we’ll be in big ass trouble,” she told the other guard.
Rainey pulled loose and walked into the cell. She backed up to the bars for removal of the handcuffs, her jaw set in defiance.
“All right then, girl,” the kinder guard said, releasing the cuffs. “Go on in there, but don’t turn your back on them and watch that one in the cell to the left. Don’t get close to those bars. That one’s real mean.”
Rainey rubbed her wrist and moved away from the door, as the dead bolts clanged back into place. She headed toward the back left corner of the cell. All the other prisoners were on the right side bunks, apparently staying clear of whoever was in the adjacent cell. Rainey figured she would have a better chance of defending herself against an assailant separated from her by iron bars, than mingling in the other women’s lair. She did not search the cell for the occupant, keeping her eyes averted to the floor. No eye contact and do not lose focus, she reminded herself. She found a good defensive position and waited for the jackals to circle the new prey, prey with a badge. It would make no difference to these women that Rainey no longer carried the credentials. Once a cop, always a cop.
A large woman, with the glassy, red-rimmed eyes of an addict coming down, stood and started toward Rainey. “You an FBI agent? I hate cops,” she growled.
“Hold on now, Big Momma,” one of the smaller women said. “You kill that girl and you ain’t never gonna see the light of day again.”
Another woman approached—not as big as the first—eyeing Rainey with murderous intent. “Go on, Big Momma, fuck her up,” she said. “You’ll get props for that over at the women’s prison. They’ll make you a hero.”
Rainey prepared to make her stand, as the women began to form a semi-circle in front of her. She was trained in self-defense, but the chances of her surviving a beat down by six motivated women were slim. Rainey was tough, in good shape, and could hold her own in a fair fight, but she was also a realist. This was going to be painful. She tried to remember some of the new defensive moves Gunny taught her since they started sparring together. As the women inched closer, Rainey was wishing Gunny were there to help her when her would-be attackers suddenly froze, their eyes widening.
Rainey heard movement in the adjacent cell. She had forgotten about the woman behind her, and moved too close to the bars. She jumped, but did not move fast enough. A large arm snaked through the bars and wrapped around Rainey’s chest, pulling her back against the bars. She thought this was it, the day she would meet her maker, and was about to say her goodbyes to Katie and the kids, when the woman in the cell behind her spoke.
“Y’all go on, now. This is my friend.”
Rainey glanced over her shoulder and broke out in a big grin. “Maybelline, I am so glad to see you,” she said to the giant woman, whose meaty arm held her pressed to the bars.
“You stay right here. They won’t mess with you.” She glared at Rainey’s cellmates. “Ain’t that right?”
The mob moved back, returning to the right side of the cell. A few mumbled under their breath, but none wanted to take on Maybelline or the network the smalltime criminal mob boss controlled. Those women hoped to be back out on the street one day. That can be a lonely place when the word is out someone is looking for you. Maybelline released her grip on Rainey, allowing her to turn and face her.
“Maybelline,” Rainey said, knowing the news she bore was not going to be pleasant. “I know what happened to Jacquie.”
Rainey explained her daughter’s fate to Maybelline as the other inmates listened. They seemed to understand that the time for aggression had passed. A woman was grieving her daughter and they respected that, remaining quiet. Rainey sat down in the corner next to the bars, where Maybelline sobbed in pain. She stuck her arm through the bars and around the shoulder of the weeping mother, whispering how sorry she was. They stayed quiet like that for almost an hour, when the guards returned.
“Come on, FBI. Your lawyer is here,” the not so nice one said.
The other guard smiled at Rainey, while she handcuffed her again. “Yeah, and that lawyer is pissed. Said we better have you back in your street clothes and downstairs, before
she has a chance to rain federal agents down on this jail. Scared the pants off the guys downstairs when she whipped out that phone and got some guy from Quantico to start yelling at people.”
The other guard was playing nice, too, now that the tide appeared to be turning. “At first they all thought Jodie Foster had walked in, until they realized it was Molly Kincaid, which seemed to excite them even more. They said her name like she was the righteous hand of God himself. Never seen people moving so fast to get a prisoner released.”
Rainey laughed. “Yep, that’s my lawyer.”
#
“You better bring somebody else in here to question me. I’m not talking to that dickhead, King,” Rainey said, glaring at the mirrored glass in the interrogation room. “And turn off the damn speaker. I’m talking to my attorney.”
Molly sat perfectly still, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hands while Rainey ranted. When Rainey took a breath, she sat back. “Are you done?”
Rainey stopped pacing and sat down at the table next to the impeccably dressed Molly. The navy blue suit she wore set off her big blue eyes. Attorney Kincaid cut an impressive swath through the courtrooms of the south, much like Sherman brought the realities of the Civil War to the plantation doors of the wealthy men who began it. She was extraordinary, but to Rainey she was just Molly, a colleague, who over the past two years had become a dear friend.
“Thank you for allowing me that little tantrum. I had remained calm for about as long as I was able.”
“I could see that,” Molly said, grinning. “The vein in your neck was vibrating. That jaw clinch is a tell, as well. I’ll have to remember that the next time we play poker. I’m in the hole deep.”
“Playing poker with me and Leslie is probably not the smartest thing you’ve ever done. A behavioral analyst and a psychologist, both trained to read body language. Nope, not in your best interest.”
“That’s okay,” Molly said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m an attorney and devious by nature. I will prevail. By the way, teaching Katie to play poker was not your best move, either. I believe she cleaned you out the last time. You, my friend, cannot bluff your wife.”
“Can you believe she went all-in with me, holding only a pair of sevens, with face cards on the table?”
“And you had?” Molly asked, like they were two old friends just chatting on the veranda, not an attorney with a client under arrest for murder.
Rainey liked that about Molly. She stayed in control. The only time Rainey had ever seen Molly flustered involved Leslie and a very wet tee shirt.
“Well, I had nothing, but –”
“Give it up, Bell. Katie reads you like a book. You don’t even have the secrets you think you do.”
Rainey laughed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
The door opened, and in walked Rex King and Wiley Trainer. The jovial mood instantly left. Molly put her hand up in front of Rainey, signaling her to remain quiet. This was Molly’s area of expertise, not Rainey’s. Hers was on the other side of the table, trying to question a suspect while people like Molly thwarted that effort. She was happy to let Molly do her thing.
Rainey kept telling herself this would all be an amusing story one day. She chose to ignore her knowledge of wrongfully convicted individuals, who served years in prison before being proven not guilty. What kind of evidence could they have anyway? She did not do it.
“Ms. Kincaid, it’s a pleasure, as always,” Wiley said.
“Nice to see you again, Captain Trainer, and if we could dispense with the pleasantries, would you mind explaining why my client, whom you trusted in a hostage situation last night, is sitting here in handcuffs this morning?”
“Well, Rainey,” he said, directing his answer to her. “It seems we have a ballistics match on your Glock 19 with the bullets removed from one Bernard “Bobo” Jackson at an early morning autopsy.”
“How could you have—”
Molly cleared her throat and made a face at Rainey. “Really, why am I here?” she asked her wayward client.
Rainey acquiesced and shut her mouth.
“As my client was about to ask, how could you have a match that fast? You just took her weapon into evidence an hour ago.”
“Your client,” Rex said, smirking at Rainey, “used that weapon to shoot Jared Howard in 2011.”
“In self-defense,” Molly said, making sure to get that on the interview transcript Rainey was sure was being recorded in the other room.
Rex droned on, as if she never spoke, “Therefore, there was a record of that weapon in the system. The lab is double-checking the results with the Glock removed from your client’s car. What, Rainey? You didn’t have time to dump the weapon before the cops showed up in your backyard this morning?”
Molly chuckled. Rainey did not see the humor in the situation. The word “FRAMED” screamed out in her brain in bold capital letters. This asshole was going to put her in prison with evidence he fabricated. She was just about to say that when Molly started talking.
“I see the handy work of the same ambitious prosecutor and the detective with a vendetta involved in the last fiasco of assigning blame where there was none. Prove my client’s gun was involved in the shooting and then we’ll talk. Until you do, I’m assuming you will be releasing her.”
Wiley rubbed his chin, thinking a moment before replying. “Well, we do have this record match.”
Molly stood up. “And computers have the wrong data uploaded to them every single day. Until you have a match to the weapon that was removed from my client’s car this morning, you have no grounds to hold her.”
Rex came unglued. “You’re not seriously considering letting her go, are you? She’ll run. She knows she’s caught.”
“My client is well respected. In fact, this very police department uses her services frequently. She has a wife, children, and strong ties to the community.”
“Those are not her kids and that sham lesbian marriage isn’t enough to keep her here. Those ties don’t bind like a real marriage,” Rex spat, nearly foaming at the mouth.
Before either Molly or Rainey could respond, Wiley turned to Rex. “Now, that’ll be enough of that. Do you have any evidence other than the old ballistics match?”
“The security cameras at the hospital show her leaving just before Bobo was killed not two blocks from there,” Rex argued.
Molly jumped in. “That’s it? That’s all you have. How many other cars left the hospital or were in the area when Mr. Jackson was shot? Who else knew he was a paid informant? Have you spoken to the security firm that logs my client’s comings and goings from her home? Did she have time to commit this crime?”
Molly would not have asked the questions, if she did not already know the answers. She had spent the time Rainey was in custody, making the case for her client’s innocence. She continued to chastise Rex.
“You haven’t done your homework detective. You jumped the gun, so to speak.” Molly finished with a satisfied smile that spread to Rainey’s face.
“All right,” Wiley said, standing. “Give me your hands.” Rainey held out her wrists, while he unlocked the cuffs. “I’ve known you since you were a girl, Rainey, so I’m letting you go, but if your weapon matches the bullets taken from the body, then I expect you to come on in for a chat.”
Rainey spoke before Molly could stop her. “I didn’t kill Bobo Jackson, Wiley, and you know it. If those bullets match, you’ll have to testify that Rex here had my weapon last night and he took custody of it again this morning.” She glared at the mirror, knowing the prosecutor was behind the glass, watching. “Rex didn’t mention that when he came to you for a warrant, did he? He had ample time to manipulate the evidence. Look at it closely before you come after me again.”
“Are you accusing me of framing you? The O. J. defense, now that’s original,” Rex scoffed.
Molly had grown very interested while Rainey was speaking. They had not talked about the weapon being in Rex’s hands,
because Rainey just learned of its significance a moment ago.
Molly launched into Rex. “You arrested my client for shooting a man with a weapon that you had in your possession not once, but twice in the last twelve hours. Did you allow anyone else access to the weapon? Was it in your sight the entire time? Is there a documented chain of custody? Did you want to make a case for tampering, or are you just that incompetent?”
Rainey couldn’t help herself. “She’s too nice to call you an idiot, but I’m not. Fuck off, Rex.”
#
Rainey exited the holding area, after having her personal items returned, and joined Molly in the hallway. They walked toward the lobby, while Rainey made a mental note to avoid ever being strip searched again at all costs. She spent her FBI career learning to think like the criminals she studied, examining their experiences closely. The strip search was one more thing with which she could now empathize, but would have happily existed without intimate knowledge of the experience.
She saw Katie waiting on the other side of the glass doors to the lobby. Ernie was there too. So much for following Rainey’s instructions. Rainey looked down at Molly.
“Would I go to jail if I put one of those shock collars on her, so she couldn’t leave the yard when I told her to stay home?”
“Yes, I’d advise against that. I think your best bet is to have a GPS chip implanted, so you can retrieve her when she strays.”
Rainey opened the door to the lobby, smiling at Molly. “I’ve actually looked into that, for her and the kids.”
Molly shook her head, saying, “Why does that not surprise me?”
Katie hurried toward them. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, and why are you here? I told you to go home.”
Ernie explained, “I told her to do what you said, but she insisted we needed to come bail you out of jail. I tried to tell her that a murder charge would have to wait for a bail hearing and your best bet was to let Molly here get them to let you go, but you know how Katie is.”
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