by L. E. Bross
“Peter was the one paying Trey to stay quiet. We saw the proof. He didn’t want anyone to know about him. He put Wendi some place where she can’t expose him. He’s behind all this,” I argue.
The sheriff jerks my arm harder and I wince at the pain shooting up my arm.
“It’s your word, a thief and kidnapper, against a man who’s renowned over the world for his security systems. Who’s a pillar of the community. You should have picked a less known target, Ms. Darlington, because not a single soul will believe that you’re a victim here.”
I grit my teeth as he leads me into the processing room where a woman in uniform waits behind another desk. He presses down on my shoulder until I have to sit or be manhandled into the chair. When he releases the handcuffs, I breathe a sigh of relief and rub the red marks on my wrists.
The woman pushes a black pad in front of me.
“You’re going to put each finger on the screen, one at a time, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Start with the thumb on your right hand.”
I go through each finger and when she’s done, I stand in front of a white wall and she snaps pictures. Throughout the entire process I stay quiet, unable to believe this is actually happening.
By the time I’m led to a cell, I’m numb.
“If the judge sets bail, you can post it immediately. If you have that kind of cash.”
I sink down onto the hard cot and a strangled laugh escapes. I don’t have ten dollars to my name, much less enough to post bail. I know what will happen next. I’ll be right here until a trial is set. I look around at the grey walls and hot tears splash down my cheeks.
How the hell am I supposed to fight this? Everything is buttoned up tight. Peter had to have been planning this from the start. Ready to pull the trigger the moment my time was up.
He just saved himself half a million dollars.
The custody papers probably weren't even real.
Fuck. Belle.
My tears fall faster and I scoot up the cot until my back is against the wall. I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. If I get convicted, which I’m sure will happen if Peter keeps pulling the strings, then I’ll be sent to prison for at least fifteen years.
Fifteen years of my life will be gone.
I’ll miss every damn moment of Belle growing up. I won’t get to be the sister I wanted to be. I’ll be a memory, the person she doesn’t talk about because she’s ashamed.
I drop my forehead and sob until I feel like I’m empty. Until I’m sure there is nothing left inside me and I’m just a shell of a person sitting in this cell. I close my eyes and exhaustion pulls me under.
My sleep is plagued by nightmares.
I fight to get back to my sister, to the guys, but at every turn they leave me until I’m alone in a vast nothingness. I wake in a cold sweat, twisted in the scratchy grey blanket, frantically fighting the urge to scream until my throat bursts open.
Surrounded in darkness, I try not to give in to the despair.
I’ve spent most of my life scared of what the future holds, but right now, the terror is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m up against someone with the power to win no matter what the truth is.
He’s turned the people I care about against me with barely any effort.
I have no one on my side.
For the first time in my life, I can’t find even a wisp of hope to grab ahold of.
I sit in the cell for two days.
Two of the longest, loneliest days of my life.
It’s a harsh preview of what will soon be my reality. Already I want to go crazy. The only people I see are the officers who bring me meals and none of them bother to look at me, much less talk. They all blend together and I don’t bother to recognize them, because I don’t care.
I’m pretty sure a dozen rules are being broken keeping me here, but they don’t seem to care. I stopped asking to use the phone because they were no help when I admitted I didn’t know the number I wanted to call.
I even overheard one of them say I wasn’t allowed visitors.
Peter’s influence is everywhere. If he wanted me to know that he owns everyone, I get the message. I won’t be getting out if it this time.
Monday morning I’m already sitting on the edge of the bed when I hear the outside door clang open. I sit staring blankly at the walls. I’ve barely slept because every time I close my eyes I see the guys and the accusation in their eyes. I’ve spent every minute of every hour going over every conversation, every detail of the last few weeks of my life.
With all the time I’ve had to think, I’ve come to the conclusion that everything that’s happened can be firmly placed on my shoulders. I look guilty because for all intents and purposes, I am.
That’s the fucking irony I can’t get away from.
I’m given a small box of raisin bran, a carton of milk and a granola bar.
When I don’t move, he exhales. “Alright then, stand up and put your hands together.”
I cringe when he snaps the cuffs back on my wrists and closes them just a little too tightly. At least my hands are in front of me this time.
A pair of ugly, grey slip-on sandals sit next to my bare feet. They gave those to me when I got here, since the sheriff didn’t even give me a chance to put shoes on before he dragged me from the house. I slip my feet into them.
“Your attorney is waiting for you at the courthouse.”
I’m not sure why they’re bothering to go through this farce of an arraignment when it’s clear I’ll never even have a chance. I’m sure the judge is in Peter’s pocket. Probably the attorney, too. With the kind of money he has, I’m sure he owns every single person in this building.
Probably giving everyone a bonus for keeping me here.
Might as well call me guilty and throw away the key.
“You’ll have fifteen minutes to talk before the judge sees you. This is just to set bail, so you won’t be pleading to charges yet.”
The speech is delivered in a bored, monotone voice. I’m sure it’s all by rote now. Things he has to say to everyone. He leads me through a long corridor, through two doors and then into a smaller room. It looks like some kind of mediation room, with a square table and four chairs around it. There’s only one window and it sits up high, barely letting any sunlight in.
“Your attorney will be in shortly.”
Apparently the court house is connected to the police station. That’s a time saver.
“There’s a guard just outside.” He looks at me pointedly.
Like I’d try to run in these damned flip flops. It’s probably why the window is so high, so no one will try to climb out. I sink down onto a hard chair.
“I’ll see you when it’s time to go back.” He smirks, the first real emotion I’ve seen since he stepped into the cell. It’s easy to read between the lines. He doesn’t think I’ll get bail. Truthfully, I doubt it, too, and even if I did, I have no money and nothing to use as collateral.
I’m stuck here regardless of what happens in front of the judge and we both know it.
“Can’t wait.” I give him a toothy grin that feels more like a snarl.
A few minutes later, a pudgy man in a bad suit walks in, takes one look at me, then drops his files onto the table. He grunts as he sinks into the chair next to me.
“I’m Chris Shilling, your public defender. They’ll probably request bail be denied. I’ll try to fight it, but you are a flight risk. You have no ties to anyone in the area, is that correct? No permanent address?”
My throat goes tight. I did until a couple of days ago.
“My sister,” I manage to choke out. “She’s nearby.”
He pulls a file free and flips it open. “Belle Darlington. I see that you both grew up in foster care. And her foster parents have petitioned to adopt her. I’ll use that, it might help, though honestly, I’ll be surprised if the judge grants bail. You might just want to brace yourself. Mr. Panchard is high profile and the
judge will want to make an example out of you. We can try again once you enter your plea. Not guilty, I assume.”
“I’m not.”
“No one ever is.” He scrubs his hand over his red face when a knock comes at the door. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Exactly the words you want to hear from your attorney. The door swings open and the judge comes in followed by two men in expensive suits. My attorney stands and looks pointedly at me until I do, too. The small room feels overly crowded and the scent of cologne makes my nose itch. The guard looks around then nods at the judge and closes the door on his way out.
I shift from one foot to the other until the judge motions for us to sit.
The judge takes the seat at the head of the table. I’m pretty sure this isn’t normal either. There’s no court reporter. No witnesses. I swallow thickly.
“I’ve read over the charges,” the judge says, barely glancing at me. “I’m assuming the defense is requesting bail?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” my attorney says.
“Your Honor,” one of the men says, “our client is agreeable to half a million.”
I nearly choke on my tongue. The might as well have denied it altogether. Even a bond for that would be fifty thousand dollars. Once again Peter is asserting his control. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming that they’re all bastards.
“That’s acceptable to the defense, Your Honor,” my attorney says without any negotiation.
I watch in disbelief as the prosecution pulls papers out of a briefcase. The judges scrawls his signature and it’s done. Once again, everything was ready.
My attorney snaps his briefcase shut as the men shake the judge’s hand and they all leave without acknowledging me at all.
What the actual fuck just happened?
None of that can be legal. What they just did? I’m not the person that should be going to trial for coercion, everyone is this building is corrupt as hell. If I had the money for a real attorney, I might be able to fight this, but if the farce that just went on is any indication, they might as well take me to prison right now. I’m never going to win a trial.
The door opens and once again, I look into the face of the officer who brought me here.
“Let’s go.” My sandals thwap on the floor as he leads me back to my cell. He unlocks my cuffs and I rub my wrists. I hate the feel of metal on my skin. “If I were the sheriff, I’d lock you up and lose the key if you set my kid up like that,” he says in a low voice.
It all makes sense now.
Of course, they’re siding with their boss.
He shuts the door and I try not to let the sound of the lock clicking into place bother me. I’ll need to get used to that, too. I kick off the hard sandals and pull my knees to my chest.
An hour later, the door opens again.
“Darlington. You’re free to go.”
My entire body locks up and I see Sheriff Stuart standing there. He doesn’t look very happy.
“You made bail. Let’s go.”
My body is frozen while my mind races a mile a minute. Someone posted my bail. My heart starts to beat faster.
“Who was it?”
He glares at me. “Guess you’ll see in a minute.”
I jump to my feet. I don’t even mind the sandals, knowing I’ll be able to throw them away very soon. I follow him down the short hallway and into the same room where they processed me. The same woman is behind the desk. After I sign a couple of papers, the clerk hands me a paper with a date.
Preliminary hearing is in bold font across the top and a date of two weeks from now.
“Be there at that date and time or a warrant goes out and you’ll be arrested.”
It seems crazy to thank her for it, so I tuck it into my shorts.
“Here’s a copy of the restraining order that was taken out against you. You’re not allowed on Panchard property or within five hundred feet of Peter Panchard. If you violate this order it’ll be immediate arrest and bail will be revoked. Do you understand?” I grit my teeth. I guess the bastard isn’t done yet.
“Yes.”
“Okay, you’re free to go.”
Despite the anger at Peter, I can’t help but smile as I head to the door. The only people with enough money to post my bail are the guys. I push through the doors and look around expectantly.
Luc waves and jogs over, relief on his face as disappointment cuts through me.
“Hey.” I give him a half wave but he ignores it and lifts me into a hug. With his good arm anyway.
“I tried to see you yesterday but they said you couldn’t have visitors.”
He lets me go and I blink up at him. “I made bail this morning. Did you pay it?”
His eyes go wide and he shakes his head. “I would have, but no. Baz texted me this morning and said to be here at nine. I didn’t know why until you walked out.”
A smile breaks out over my face.
They didn’t abandon me.
“Where are they?” I ask breathlessly, looking around.
Confusion colors his face. “At school probably? I had the day off because apparently a gunshot wound is an acceptable excuse to miss class.”
At his reminder, my stomach twists into knots. Considering it’s one of the things that have been on repeat in my head when sitting in that cell, I feel horrible I didn’t ask immediately.
“How are you?”
“Good. I got to shower this morning for the first time since Friday night. Be glad, be very glad.” He grins at me and I try to find the humor in it, but I can’t.
When his smile slips, I duck my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so damned tired I can’t even think straight. I’m glad you’re getting better.” I reach out and squeeze his arm. “And thank you for coming to get me.”
“Come on. Let’s get you home so you can shower and change.”
My heart leaps at the word home until I realize he doesn’t mean Peter’s house. I’m not allowed near that.
“The pool house is all ready for you. I put some food in the fridge and there are snacks and stuff, but when you’re ready, we can go shopping and you can get what you need. And you can ride to school with me in the morning, so don’t worry about that.”
He’s throwing so much at me that I can’t focus on any one thing.
“School?”
“Yeah?”
I stop and rub my fingers over my throbbing temples. The sun is so bright it’s making my head hurt. “I’m not sure I’m going to bother. No need for a high school diploma in prison.”
I try to laugh but it comes out broken. Luc hauls me against his side.
“You’re not going to prison. You’re going to graduate in three weeks and then go to college and be kickass in whatever it is you decide to do with your life.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until Luc stops and wipes his thumbs over my wet cheeks.
“Everything will be okay.”
He can’t promise that, but I don’t say anything. The ride back to his place is quiet and I think I might have dozed off because I startle awake when Luc’s door slams shut.
My feet drag through the house and out past the pool. Luc hands me the key to the guesthouse.
“I’m right inside if you need anything. I can order pizza later if you’re hungry.”
He stares at me for a few long seconds, then pulls me into another hug.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
I pull free and duck through the door before he can see the tears that have started up again. They fall because I’m exhausted and feel vulnerable, so I let them, because after today, that will not be me ever again.
No matter what happens, or where I end up, I will not be weak.
I lock the door and kick off the disgusting flip flops. I’m so exhausted I can barely lift my feet but I make my way to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I need to wash the filth of that jail cell off immediately.
I have no spare clothes, but there is a fluffy white robe on
the hook by the door. After I scrub every inch of my skin and smell like a bouquet of flowers, I dry off and pull the robe closed.
My eyes barely stay open as I pad toward the small bedroom. Maybe exhaustion will keep the nightmares away. I flick the light on, turn and freeze.
There’s a suitcase on my bed. I don’t recognize it, but when I flip the top open, all my things are there. My clothes, my shoes, toiletries. It hits me that someone had to have packed up my things.
My life fits into a small box.
Ironic since my life is going to be a small box.
I lie down next to my things and pull the covers over me, curl up next to what’s left of my life and fall into a dreamless sleep for the first time in days.
I wake in darkness, completely disoriented. Half awake, I fumble until I find a nightstand and then a lamp. With a flick the room is cast in warm light.
It take several slow blinks to remember where I am.
Luc’s pool house. I’m not in a cell. I exhale in relief that it’s not a dream.
The clock blinks ten twenty-five. I slept for over twelve hours.
My neck hurts as I bend it side to side to work out the kinks. A loud rumble echoes from my stomach and I force myself to my feet. Now that I have my things, I grab my favorite sleep shorts and a tank top.
It feels good to have on clean clothes.
I don’t bother to turn on any lights because the place is so small the light from the bedroom illuminates enough so that I can see my way to the kitchen. I open the fridge and duck down, pulling out a container of fruit and a yogurt. I grab two bottles of water because I’m thirsty as hell, and make my way to the couch.
It’s late but I’m not tired since I slept all day, so I flick the television on. When I scroll past Walking Dead, a lump grows in my throat. I really want to know what’s happening, but I can't bear to watch it with the memories attached.
But when I turn it off, the silence is too much.
I settle on HGTV and watch obnoxious people complaining about double vanities and needing six guestrooms. I flip when I can’t take anymore and end up watching a Big Bang marathon.
By the time the sky outside the window starts to get lighter, I’m halfway through season four. A soft knock comes at the door and I stand and stretch before making my way over to unlock it.
