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“Have I?” The officer doesn’t even glance at the items in his hand. He seems more composed and impassive than the last time I saw him after my meeting with Florence.
“Stay put.”
He strolls back to his car, and Jason watches him from the side mirror.
“How much worse do you think I’d make it if I put the car into Reverse right now and just—”
“Jason!” I exclaim, cutting off the bloody fantasy.
The sharp breath exhaling through his nose serves as protest. “I hate feeling so fucking helpless.”
Guilt claws at my chest, making my throat sore. “I’m sorry, Jason. He’s only doing this because of me.”
He turns his sharp eyes on me, so blue and blazing their attention makes me suck in a breath. “It’s not your fault. He’s not doing this because of you. He’s doing it because he has no leads on Lily and no one holding him accountable, so he’s fixated on harassing you. It’s all on him, Siena, not you.”
Maybe, but Jason’s the one getting all the tickets.
The crunch of gravel alerts us to Officer Liu’s approach. “In the time I’ve been gone, have either of your memories been jogged about some useful information regarding my daughter? Anything you want to tell me?
Anything you want to admit?”
I blink at him. Is he serious? What could we possibly know that we haven’t already tried sharing?
Jason doesn’t bother to address the statement, instead asking, “Can I have my ticket now? I have places to be.”
“Hmm,” Officer Liu mutters, pursing his lips. “That’s a shame.” He presses a button on the walkie-talkie attached to his chest. “Bring it in, Bert.”
Jason and I exchange a glance.
“Turn off the engine,” Officer Liu commands, and Jason begrudgingly does.
Officer Liu takes a step back from the window, his hand going to his hip, where his handcuffs are. “Out of the vehicle.”
“What? No!” I exclaim, my hand clamping down on Jason’s arm to hold him in place without even realizing it.
“He didn’t do anything!”
Officer Liu shifts to pin me with his hard gaze. “I meantbothof you, get out of the car.”
Nausea hits me in an intense wave. There’s only one reason he could want us to get out of the car, and it’s not to apologize for wasting our time. He’s going to cuff us, put us in the back of the cop car, maybe parade us through the station again.
My throat constricts, and the walls of the car close in on me, cutting off my access to fresh air.
I can’t be arrested, can’t stand being in the stale cell that smells like bleach, sweat, and regrets with no windows andno air. I can’t do it. Iwon’tdo it. And yet, like always, I’m helpless.
“Siena, baby,” Jason soothes, taking my chin between his thumb and finger and forcing me to look at him.
So many things pass through his eyes as they bore into mine, and I see the promise in them as much as I hear it in his voice when he says, “We’re going to be okay; we’re in it together.”
I hear his words, and I know he means them, but my breath is coming fast and shallow, and I can’t do anything to steady it.
He lifts the hand that’s not clutching his arm in a death grip, opens my palm, and places it flat on his chest.
He’s solid and stable beneath my touch, his eyes holding mine hostage despite the blackness creeping in around the edges.
“Breathe with me, baby. Copy my breaths; feel my chest rise and fall with every inhale and exhale. That’s it, in and out.” He inhales and exhales deeply and slowly, and I try to imitate him, try to loosen the knot in my throat.
There’s commotion outside, beeping and loud machinery and directions being shouted, but Jason never spares it a glance, never once breaks eye contact with me.
