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Hot cop smirked at her and shook his head. “Like hell. You’re coming to the station with me.”
Bianca’s jaw dropped. “For what?!” she hollered.
“Answer some questions.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“If you don’t cooperate.”
“Cooperate with what?”
“Possible grand theft auto.” Hot cop took her by the upper arm and brought her to his car, pushing her into the backseat.
“Wait, w-what—” Bianca stammered. “You can’t—”
He slammed her door.
“Bastard,” Bianca said, unable to believe this was happening as he came around the car to the driver’s side and got in.
Bianca looked out the window as hot cop took her to the station, trying not to cry and failing miserably. She could sense him glancing up at her in the rearview mirror. When she looked up at him, he looked back at the road.
“Do you have someone who can come get you at the station?” he asked, his voice rough like he didn’t want to be asking what he was asking.
Bianca laughed ruefully and sniffed. “Yeah, my brother will send a car. If I’m lucky. If I’m not lucky, he’ll show up himself so he can kill me.”
She heard him laugh under his breath and looked up into the rearview mirror to meet his gaze. He didn’t immediately look back down at the road.
“Are you dressed as Pris from the originalBlade Runner?” he asked, almost like he couldn’t stop himself.
She was so surprised it took her a second to reply. “Yeah,” she said. “But from her first scene, before she becomes the murder doll.”
He nodded and looked back down at the road. “Good movie.”
“Um… it’s agreatmovie?” Bianca corrected.
He chuckled out loud this time, his eyes going back and forth between her and the road before he finally readjusted his seat and stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride.
When they got to Weston Police Station, he took her out of the back seat and held onto her arm as he led her in. It was chaos inside the station. There were about thirty or forty people, all in costume, all of them exceptionally drunk, and several of them bloodied and their costumes torn. The whole lot of them were getting processed, and it wasn’t going smoothly. Bianca heard hot cop swear under his breath as they stood just inside the doors. Another plain-clothes policeman spotted them and hurried over, looking hassled.
“Jesus Christ, Copeland,” he said, looking freaked out when he saw Bianca. “You brought someonein?”
“Do you have a room I can use? Some place away from all this?” Hot cop asked, indicating the madness around them.
“No. This is it tonight,” the other cop said, turning and hurrying them through the main processing area in the front of the station. “Come on,” he said, motioning for someone to buzz them through. “You can use my desk.” he said, leading them past a bunch of desks, all of which were filled with frantic officers. “I wish your people could have picked any other night besides this one. You know Halloween is the worst time for us, right?”
“I’m getting that,” hot cop replied.
He brought them to a very messy desk with a computer, a half-empty mug of coffee, an open notebook with phone numbers scrawled on it, and files scattered all over the place. The nameplate said Detective Roberts on it. “Now if you don’t mind, I have shit to take care of,” Roberts said, leaving them to hurry off elsewhere.
Hot cop took out his phone, tapped the screen, and put it down between the two of them. “Do I have your consent to record this?” he asked.
Bianca threw up her hands. “Do I have a choice?” she asked.
“Of course you do,” he replied.
“Does the other way involve me going to jail?”
“Probably.”
