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“Yes… you,” I grind out, taking a step toward her but being stopped with a hand to the arm from Pop. “You didn’t want us to be happy so you decided to set her up, huh? Was my car not enough to prove your point? You had to ruin our lives too?”
Her face drops, the smirk that she was wearing when I first walked in is gone and in its place is a frown. “However much I don’t like what you’re doing, I’d never do that.”
I scoff. “Bull. Shit.”
“Hey!” Charlie barks. “Don’t talk to my officers like that.”
I spin around to face him, stepping toward him and getting right in his face. “You have no idea what your officer is like, the kind of shit she pulled on the daily.”
“That—”
“She’s a prejudice bitch who needs to stay far away from me!” I turn my gaze toward hers, warning her with my eyes to never come near me or speak to me again; she’s behind this, I know she is.
“That’s enough,” Pop says, his voice brooking no room for argument as he pushes me out of the precinct. “I’ll be in touch,” he tells Charlie, not letting up until he has me out of the door and to his car.
My eyes are still focused on Geena, narrowing as I watch her face break out into a grin as soon as she thinks I’m far enough away from her. I step back toward the doors, ready to confront her again. “I swear to—”
“Stop!” Pop shouts. “Get your ass in the car, I’m taking you home.” I shake my head, not wanting to go anywhere or do anything apart from see Lexi. “There’s nothing you can do right now
, son. There’s nothing I can do yet either. We have to go through the right channels or you’re going to make things worse for her.”
How can six hours go both fast and slow at the same time? I barely remember getting to the station and being interviewed. It all feels like a blur, like a bad dream. Maybe if I pinch myself hard enough I’ll wake up? But I am awake, I’m living a nightmare and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the side of the van that is transporting me to the prison. The same prison that slowly became my hell.
“Do you understand why you’re here, Miss Deacon?”
I shake my head, because I don’t. I’ve never seen the drugs that are sitting in an evidence bag on the table. But it doesn’t matter what I say or do right now. None of it matters.
I hold my hands tightly, squeezing them until they turn white.
“If you’d rather wait until a lawyer gets here…”
My head whips up, connecting with his chocolate-brown eyes and then flitting to his small smile. “I don’t want a lawyer. They’re not mine.”
He nods sadly. “I never usually say this, but…” He looks around the empty room even though there isn’t anyone here. “I really think you should call someone… maybe Evan?”
“No.” I shake my head emphatically. I can’t bear the thought of seeing his eyes and the doubt that is surely to shine through them. I can’t do it.
We both sit there for several minutes, but after a while, he huffs and stands up. “It’s out of my hands now, Miss Deacon, you’ll have to be transferred to the prison and face the parole board after the investigation has finished.”
My heart thumps, the thought of being back in that place breaking me out in a sweat.
“Deacon.” My eyes snap open at the rough, demanding voice and I spot the male guard who has opened the door, signaling me to get out.
I stand up slowly, my legs feeling like jelly as the chains clang around me. My eyes meet the metal door that leads into the prison, my breaths turning to gasps. I shouldn’t be back here, I didn’t do anything.
I come to a stop, shaking my head and silently begging him not to put me back in there. The guard doesn’t listen though, his blue eyes meet mine and I see nothing. Not a single emotion as he grabs my arm and yanks me forward, nearly making me lose my footing.
He pulls me up, not giving me a chance to right myself before he’s being let in the door and dragging me with him.
I start singing nursery rhymes in my head: anything to pretend I’m not in this position. Back here, about to be stripped and searched. I put myself out of my head, going to the safe place where everything is fine and I’m sitting watching butterflies dance around me.
“Strip.”
I swallow as I shimmy out of my shorts and Evan’s t-shirt. It still smells like him and I’ve been clinging to it for comfort since I entered the precinct, but now it’s gone, and I don’t know when I’ll see it or feel it against my skin again.
The woman searches me everywhere making me wince as a sob bubbles up my throat. I can’t let it out though, I can’t let them see any kind of weakness.
