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“I am,” we all say at the same time.
“I need to see some ID,” the other officer, Rodriguez, says.
“Why are you here?” Clair demands. “No ID until you tell us what you want. I know the rules. I’ve watched several episodes of Law and Order.”
That earns her a well-deserved eye roll from the police.
“ID,” he repeats. “Driver’s license. Student ID card. Hell, it can be a passport, I don’t care. We are here to speak to Ruby James.”
“Not until you tell us what you want,” Kennedy says loudly.
I could show him ID, but frankly, I’m in a damn mood.
“I am Spartacus,” I inform him. Clair and Kennedy join in. We start chanting it.
And that’s how the three of us find ourselves in the back seat of a police car, riding through the mean streets of Manhattan to the local precinct.
At least we’re not handcuffed, although we did have to do the march of shame in front of what felt like half the campus.
Fortunately, it makes us look like some kind of badass rebels, and we got cheers and whistles as we were marched to the car. We waved back at everybody and blew kisses.
“Fight the power,” a guy from my biology class shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
I learn a few things that I never knew before on the way to the police station, like the fact that the seat in the back of police cars is incredibly hard and uncomfortable and smells really bad. Also that the police don’t have much of a sense of humor.
When we get to the station, we are ushered into an interview room. It’s right next to the big open area that I think they call a bullpen. Maybe it’s a bull-pit. A ball pen? I need to look this up later.
There’s a man in a suit waiting for me. He’s sitting behind a desk, scowling and drinking from a chipped white coffee mug, which he sets down when we walk in. There are piles of paper on his desk, and an open laptop in front of him. The nameplate on the desk says Detective Ahearn.
Detective Ahearn looks at the two officers in annoyance.
“I sent you to bring in Ruby James. What, is she triplets? Why did you bring these women here?”
“Because they wouldn’t tell us which one of them is Ruby James,” Officer Hernandez says with exasperation.
“We have the right to remain silent,” Kennedy yells. Then she frowns in thought. “I think.”
“So, now what?” Clair demands. “You rough us up? Beat us with rubber hoses? Throw us in the hoosegow?”
“The what?” Detective Ahearn looks at her in bafflement.
“You’re going to cuff us and throw us in the big house?” Kennedy says shrilly. “Force a false confession out of us?”
He stares at her and shakes his head. “No. Two-thirds of you can leave. You’re staying.” He points at me. He looks at the two officers. “The girl in the video has long blond hair. She’s the only one who fits that description.” True. Clair’s hair is in a pixie cut, and Kennedy has never been blonde a day in her life.
So there’s a video of something, and for some reason he thinks that I am in this video? I feel a huge wave of relief wash over me. Obviously they’ve made a very stupid mistake, and they’re going to be apologizing profusely to me very soon. I have not done anything illegal, so there won’t be anything for them to have caught on video. They’ve got the wrong girl. What a waste of my day.
“We’re not going anywhere. I’ll cuff myself to this bench,” Kennedy yells. She looks at Officer Davenport. “Can I borrow your cuffs?”
“No.”
“Figures,” she pouts.
“My boyfriend has handcuffs,” Clair chirps. “I could have him bring them here.”
Everyone stares at her, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It’s impossible to embarrass Clair. “Nah, it would take too long,” Kennedy says finally. “You’re giving me all the details later, though. If we ever escape Alcatraz Island.” She starts singing softly, “We shall overcome...”
“Escape? Are you serious? Go,” Detective Ahearn yells. “Leave. I already told you to go.”
