Lawfully Freed

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Lawfully Freed Page 5

by Ginny Sterling


  Turning, she walked to her car and got inside. Frowning, she saw that her driver side windshield wiper was out of sorts and up high on the windshield, with a piece of paper underneath. Standing in the open door, she leaned forward to grasp the paper and pulled it out. Gaping, she stared as the wiper arm came right off her car!

  “What the –” she began and caught the piece of metal just before it fell to the ground. Holding the wiper, she glanced around and darted into her car, locking the doors. Gabriel had parked right next to her car, but surely, he hadn’t touched her car? Had Brent broken her wiper off? She hated to assume it was so! Brent had gotten into his car left quickly. The wiper hadn’t been at the weird angle before, was it? Opening the piece of paper, she felt bile rise in her stomach as she read the words:

  All I wanted to do was talk.

  Angrily, she threw the wiper on the passenger side floorboard along with the note. Oh, she’d talk all right! Come Saturday, she’d find out how he wanted to pay for her new wiper arm! They wouldn’t be going to any movie if he’d had the nerve to break it off in retaliation. She would never, ever deal with any form of mental abuse again and this was downright threatening and so not like the person he portrayed.

  What if it wasn’t him? she thought idly for a moment and pushed it away. Could it have been Brent? He’d been here earlier, too. Both of them had pinged her internal radar in high school as life changing and she wasn’t ready for it then, perhaps she wasn’t ready now, either! Throwing her car into reverse angrily, she stomped on the gas and backed out of the parking spot with a childish squeal of her tires. She was glad it was late, and no one was there because she was mad. Mad at the situation. Mad that her car was damaged, and she’d have to get it fixed. And honestly, she was quite pissed that her lovely night had ended like this.

  Five

  The next morning, she got up and got ready to head downtown like normal. She would have to stop by the dealership to get her car repaired. Her day would be shot and was starting out in the toilet, simply because she was still upset about her car being vandalized. She was just glad it wasn’t supposed to rain or she’d have really been stuck.

  Going through the motions of the day, she found herself reviewing case after case. Her pen had been mauled with angry teeth marks from where she’d chewed it up during intense concentration. She’d thought of getting a stress ball, but the pen seemed to be the outlet of choice most days. She actually kept a solo cup in her car with several extras and insisted on carrying a black purse in case one leaked ink from the excessive outlet of frustration.

  “Hey there,” she heard and glanced up. Markham was standing there staring at her. “I don’t know what that pen did to you, but I’m sincerely glad it can’t scream in pain.”

  “Yeah, honestly, me, too,” she snapped and then apologized quickly at his surprised expression. She heard the harsh tone in her voice and knew that it wasn’t fair for her to take it out on him – or the pen.

  “I’ve had a rough day.”

  “It’s only two in the afternoon. Workload too much for you?”

  “No, not that. Someone decided to yank my wiper arm off my new car and… and…” she stammered, feeling her temper begin to boil. “I’m pretty steamed about it!” She glanced down at the pen that snapped in her hands that clenched it. The plastic had finally given way, sending ink all over the table and her clothing.

  “Are you kidding me?” she yelped, jumping to her feet.

  “Hey, hey, kiddo,” he coaxed and shut the door. “Look, obviously you’ve had a lot going on. Do you want to talk about it?” Markham grabbed the trashcan and looked around. He left the room and returned moments later with paper towels, glass cleaner and a t-shirt. “That outfit is ruined.”

  “I seem to have quite a run of that lately, too.” Rebecca grabbed the glass cleaner from him and began wiping down the table, resulting in smearing the black ink along the wood laminate. “This isn’t working.”

  “Go down the hall and wash your hands,” he offered. “I will get this.”

  “Can you get the door?” she asked, swallowing hard. She felt herself near a breaking point. A scream of sheer frustration was edging up her throat, making her feel as if she were choking on the pressure of it. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself any more than the massive inkblot across her torso was sure to do.

  “Of course. When you come back, I have something for you.”

  Nodding, she walked down the hallway staring at the floor in order to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want to see the questioning looks or sympathy on their faces for the ruined shirt. Glancing down, she saw that the ink was not only on her hands but her shirt and pants as well.

  Pushing open the ladies’ room door with her elbow, she heard her name called out. It was Gabriel’s voice. He was in the building working and had spotted her. She wasn’t prepared for this and it was all too much. She darted inside to get away and moved to the sink. Turning on the water, she stared at her stained hands and how they shook angrily. Shoving them under the water, she lathered them up. Hearing a knock, she glanced up in the mirror and stared at the door behind her.

  “Go away.”

  “Rebecca, are you okay?”

  “Not right now, I’m not!”

  “I’m coming in,” she heard him say and the door began to open to her horror. Her face paled in the mirror, leaving two large splotches of red on her face at the idea of him barging in the bathroom. What if she was occupied – did he have any manners?

  “No, you aren’t!” She stepped backwards, soapy hands and all to push against it. Her hand slid straight across the door leaving a great black arc resembling a rainbow where her fingers streaked across the white laminate door. At this point, her day was shot. Why not top it off with ink spread everywhere at the precinct? Doors, floor, sink?

  “Rebecca, don’t be silly. Markham said you were upset. What happened? Was it the present?”

  “What present?”

  “Becky, open this door now.” There was something to his voice, a catch, that surprised her and made her slip for a moment. He never called her Becky, ever. Not back then and certainly not now. It was always Rebecca.

  Gabriel pushed the door against her and easily slipped inside. He was huge in the tiny ladies’ bathroom. She was very nearly seething with pent up frustration and anger, shock and dismay. He frowned as he took one look at the ink and soap bubbles all over her.

  “You okay?”

  “Do I look like it?”

  “No, you look quite angry, honestly.”

  “Ding! Ding! Ding! Guess who gets a ribbon?”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Yes! No! Look at this mess! I’m a mess! My car is a mess!”

  “Did you wreck it? Are you okay?”

  “Don’t act surprised, it doesn’t suit you. You know what is wrong with it.”

  “No, I don’t,” he countered. She glanced up at his face and saw he wasn’t lying. He looked about as confused as she felt.

  “You don’t?” she breathed, feeling tears well up. If he didn’t, then who did? Brent? Someone else? She felt fragile and vulnerable. It was all too much and the sudden rush of relief at his words was overwhelming.

  “No, I don’t,” he murmured and pulled her into his arms. Ink, bubbles and all. “Tell me what is going on.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here and I am getting ink all over you.”

  “Baby, my uniform is black and there is nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

  Rebecca broke down and hugged him tightly, giving in to the rush of emotion before calming herself.

  “Now, tell me what happened,” he encouraged, tilting her chin up and wiping her hair from her face where it stuck to her wet cheeks. “Don’t leave out anything.”

  “There is nothing to say really. I mean, after our date, I walked out to my car and there was a piece of paper on the windshield. I got out, grabbed it and found that it was only held down by the weight of
the wiper arm. Someone ripped it right off and its pretty mangled.”

  “What’d the paper say?”

  “That they wanted to talk to me.”

  “And you thought it was me,” he said, disappointment evident in his tone. His dark eyes looked pained at her assumption, but the understanding was there as well. He seemed to have been waiting for her to find fault with him and it was written all over his face. She instantly felt incredibly wretched and deflated, like any spirit was drained from her.

  “I don’t know. Yes and no. It was certainly someone.”

  “Is your car here? Do you have the wiper blade where it can be fingerprinted?”

  “Yes, I was too mad at the time and threw it on the floorboard of my car.”

  “Where are you parked? Do you want to walk down with me or do you trust me to get it?” They looked at each other for several quiet moments. He seemed incredibly tense, as if he were afraid of her answer. She was stunned that he’d asked that of her. Did she trust him? She felt that she had done so from the beginning and the only reason she’d questioned anything, was because she felt she’d been betrayed.

  “You go. I’m going to try to finish cleaning up the smears I have left behind and see if I can wash my face without getting ink all over it.”

  “Want me to help you wash your face?” he offered with slight upturn to his lips.

  “No, no. Don’t be silly. Look, I don’t have breakdowns often and I swear I am capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I know you are. You’ve always been, but sometimes it’s nice knowing you have someone to reach out to, too.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you have your keys on you?”

  “No, I left my purse in the office with the District Attorney. He’s probably going to be mad I ruined the table.”

  “I doubt that. Do you want to come with me so I’m not digging around in your purse?” She rolled her eyes.

  “You don’t forgive easily, do you? No, just go ahead. I will be there shortly. I’m parked at the corner at the Park & Pay lot off Chestnut Avenue.”

  “Okay,” he acquiesced. “Take a deep breath and I will be right back.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead quickly. “Don’t worry.”

  Nodding, she watched him dart out of the ladies’ room and felt herself smile. It would be all right. She went back to trying to scrub the ink off of her hands and forearms. She could just imagine what her stomach and pelvis looked like under her stained clothing. A Rorschach test gone wrong. This made her giggle. Once the ink was gone and all that remained was stained skin, she gingerly washed her face. She was dismayed because she saw that a bit of ink had splashed on her cheek making it look like she had a beauty mark.

  Hearing another knock at the bathroom door, she was surprised to see another woman walk in with an evidence bag and clothing. “Are you Dr. Tulle? D.A. Markham sent me in here and said you’d need a change of clothes.”

  “Yes, actually I could.”

  “Is that ink?”

  “Very much so and its everywhere. That was nice of him to ask you to bring it here.”

  Nodding, the woman said, “He’s like that. Always says that the police force is like family. We have each other’s backs on everything. This should fit or be close enough. Get changed, you’ll feel better.”

  “Is my face red?”

  “Not really, but your eyes are. Whatever’s wrong, it will work itself out in time.”

  “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

  Changing quickly, she was glad her blouse buttoned so that when she took it off she didn’t smear ink all over her face and hair. Stuffing it in the clear evidence bag, she tossed it in the trash. There would be no saving the clothing. Miraculously, it hadn’t gotten on her bra and her underwear, so she was able to keep those articles of clothing. Her stomach was definitely stained though. Putting on the D.P.D. t-shirt and uniform pants, she sighed and threw her pants in the trash as well. The black ink had ruined the blue slacks she’d worn.

  Leaving the bathroom, she walked back down to where the office was and stepped inside. Surprisingly, there were several people inside. Her purse was on the table, along with the piece of paper, the wiper arm and, curiously enough, the wadded-up letter that had been taped to her front door from the apartment complex. Had he gone through her bag after all when he’d fished out her keys?

  “What’s going on?” she asked, seeing them pry open the envelope with tweezers as they dusted it with black powder looking for prints.

  “You know you had a second note in your purse?” Gabriel asked.

  “You opened it?”

  “No, but it wasn’t addressed, and the paper looked the same. It was sealed so I took the chance and asked them to check it. Should they be looking at it? Is it private?” he said with a frown.

  “It’s from my apartment complex, I think…” she trailed off, watching them. The hard expression on Gabriel’s face told her it wasn’t from the office after all.

  “Here we go,” the man interrupted from the table and slid out the paper from the envelope. They opened it carefully with the tweezers to protect it from contamination and took a photo of it.

  “What does it say?” she asked, seeing their faces suddenly turn businesslike. “What?”

  “It says, ‘stay away from him’.”

  “What?” she breathed and felt herself stumble. Gabriel reached her first, catching her.

  “I don’t want you staying at your place. Stay with your mother,” he ordered. His forehead furrowed with worry. Her heart beat anxiously at the way it felt to be held by him and the idea that she was being followed.

  “No. I’m not going to endanger her or anyone else. Maybe they have the wrong apartment?”

  “And the wrong car? No, this is someone watching you. Watching us.”

  “You think they mean for me to stay away from you?”

  “I think we both know who it probably is but without a print, I can’t prove it.”

  “There are no fingerprints?”

  “Not a one. Yours are on the papers and the wiper, but nothing else.”

  “I can have someone patrol your apartment complex and watch you or you could put a restraining order out on whoever you two think is doing this.” Markham offered.

  “A restraining order might help dissuade him,” Gabriel whispered quietly to her, his eyes firm.

  “No, he’d just find a different way to reach me. I will be fine.”

  “Rebecca,” he began, and she cut him off.

  “No, I’ll be fine. Seriously.”

  “We’ll leave you two to discuss this,” Markham interrupted.

  “Rebecca, please. If Brent is doing this, then you aren’t safe.”

  “We don’t know it’s him or if it was even meant for me. All the apartments look the same in my complex.”

  “No, I know! But if it’s not, then someone else is watching you.”

  “I’m an adult and can take care of myself. I appreciate you helping but I don’t want to stay with my mother. It would put her in danger. I’m on the second floor, so I’m fairly secure.”

  “Do you want to stay with me?”

  “I think that’s a mistake. It would be like putting fuel on the fire, plus…” She stopped. “I don’t think I am ready for that. I mean, I really like you, but I need a slower pace for us.”

  As he nodded, she could see he wasn’t happy about her decision. “Just make sure that someone walks you to your car or contact them when you get home. If there is anything and I mean anything that bothers you or seems out of line, call me or call 911. Please.”

  Just then, the walkie-talkie at his hip crackled with life. She heard several different numbers fired off in a volley causing Gabriel’s face to come alert. It was so fascinating to watch the changes in him. That gangly boy that had followed her around was long gone. So was the adoring man that worried about her. In its place was a hardened officer that had a job to do. When he was called up, it was s
erious.

  “I gotta go,” he told her. And as he opened the door to the office, he called out over his shoulder, “Call me later.”

  Rolling her eyes, she watched several blurs of dark uniforms dart past the frosted glass panes of the office she was using. She felt a rush of pride in knowing that what he did wasn’t for everyone. It took a person of strong fortitude to rush into danger without a second thought. Whereas, she would probably be listening to the radio or watching television to see what had happened or what was going on. She walked over to where her purse lay open and exposed. It should feel like they invaded her privacy but, instead, she was thankful that they’d had the foresight… that Gabriel had put two and two together, realizing that it was the same paper. She’d never opened it or given it a second thought. He seemed so brilliant, so clever, and so very caring.

  Picking up her purse, she glanced down at the small gift-wrapped box that lay underneath. Slowly she unwrapped it and hesitated, wondering if she should grab forensics again and then pushed it aside. The only people here were Markham, Gabriel and the two forensics men that had disappeared with the papers and wiper arm. She finished peeling back the paper and nearly dropped the contents.

  In her hands lay a shiny iPhone.

  Clicking on the home button, she felt tears well up. The wallpaper on the phone was a photo she hadn’t seen in years and barely remembered. It was a photo from their yearbook. The black and white image was from a play she’d been forced to participate in for a grade during her sophomore year. She didn’t even remember the title of the play, or what her line was. But what she did remember was that Gabriel had prompted her on stage when she’d been scared and had forgotten her line. He’d whispered the first part of her line, reminding her so she wasn’t embarrassed in front of the school.

 

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