by Mara White
“How far up are we going, Oscar?” I whisper.
“Next floor, Kate. Don’t talk.” He replies.
The entry door clicks audibly behind us signaling that someone else has entered the building and is now coming up behind us. Oscar falls back from my side and positions himself behind me, making me question whether we should be worried about who has just come in more than what’s ahead of us.
Is there any way that this could be a set-up? Would they just take the money and then kill us? Is it even possible for Jaylee, Oscar, and I to leave this situation unscathed? These are the things I should have considered before I decided to come along. I’m so stupid.
Ada and Pearl.
Robert.
Do I only think of myself? Am I so driven by my passion for Jaylee that I’m unable to do anything but try to sate it?
Hushed voices and footsteps come up behind us. Definitely more than one person. Definitely in a concentrated hurry. I grasp Oscar’s hand and he calmly puts his back to me pushing me up against the wall to block me from their passing. There are many of them and they aren’t passing us; they’re here for us.
They are plain-clothed but their mannerisms coupled with the look on their faces somehow give them away. Police, or maybe even DEA. Oscar and I have walked into a bust, a sting, a real-life CSI episode.
Oscar says nothing to me but I hear him exhale. They are rough when they cuff him. Three or so don’t stop but continue on up the stairs. The agents grab my bag and pat me down facing the wall on the stair landing. They cuff me not much more gently.
Handcuffs feel much like one would expect them to, awkward. Luckily they don’t dig into my flesh. My wrists are small. My knees are shaking uncontrollably. I have only ever been the person calling the cops on someone else. This is the first time I’ve ever been the criminal.
I hear a pop above us and know instinctively that it’s a shot fired. My eyes dart to Oscar’s, he shakes his head, no. He doesn’t want me think what I’m thinking. Would the Columbians kill him in the middle of a bust? Would the police shoot him? I have no frame of reference but weeknight television dramas.
I pray they remove Oscar and me from the building before Jaylee sees us. He’ll add ‘resisting arrest’ onto his charges if he knows I’m here. Either by trying to free me or kill Oscar. If he’s even alive. I can’t let myself think it. Why did I have to come?
They read us our rights and march us down the stairs. When we come out onto the street, it’s misting and I can see my breath. Oscar and I are put into the back of the same police car – something I didn’t know they could do. He bows his head and I look out the window, back at the building. No one is coming out yet.
It was misty on my wedding night. We held the reception at Tavern on the Green, which has long since closed. The mist made the setting even more magical. There were lanterns that cast long shadows and the air was perfumed with the smell of gardenias. Robert held me in his arms and we danced. That night was the beginning of forever for me, or at least it was in that moment. I find myself longing for his arms now. He’s always protected me, always shielded me.
“Kate?”
Oscar is calling me but I must have tuned him out. It’s raining and still no one else has exited the building.
“Kate, are you okay?”
I nod my head at him.
“Have you done this before?”
I shoot him a look like he’s an idiot for asking and then immediately regret it.
“No. Have you?”
“Yeah, a couple of times.”
“How old are you, Oscar?”
“Nineteen.”
I direct my attention back to the front door of the building, a few officers are coming out but they return to the car and soon we’re pulling away from the curb. No sign of Jaylee.
“Listen, I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen because at booking I’ll probably be released. They gonna keep you, Kate. Because of the money.”
My eyes are welling up with tears but I look at him and nod. I don’t know if I can do this alone. It didn’t occur to me that Oscar is clean, that we won’t go through this process together.
“They’ll take us to the precinct. Probably the thirty. You get booked, take a mug shot. That’s where I’ll jump off. Then they gonna take you to Central Booking. Kate, you got any quarters?”
“No, I have five thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills,” I say dryly.
“See if you can score some quarters at the thirty. You gonna need them. Are you listening?”
“Yes.” I am but my mind is still lingering on my wedding night and the expectation of forever. Robert in his tuxedo, we were so young and strong and full of potential. I wish Robert would appear now and rescue me from this situation, but that’s a delusion of privilege and I know I’m going to have to face this night alone. Once Robert finds out what I’ve done, maybe I’ll have to face the rest of my life alone too.
“It ain’t pretty in the tombs. They’ll put you in the tank and you gotta try to hold your own in there. Don’t talk to nobody and maybe just speak in Spanish if you have to. That’ll at least confuse ‘em. Kate, they got all kinds up in there and there ain’t no special treatment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you gonna be sleeping with murderers and prostitutes and drug addicts tonight and you got to protect yourself. There’s crazy people and homeless people in there too.”
I’m not better than them. I’m obviously crazy, and after tonight, maybe homeless too. Perhaps jail is where I belong after all. I can hold my own. If I was thoughtless enough to get here, I deserve it, don’t I?
“You got it?”
Again I nod. I can’t believe I let this happen. I’m barely able to swallow what’s in store for me. I never imagined I’d be arrested in my life. My path has been altered irreconcilably in the last half hour and I have no idea what the outcome will look like.
“If Jaylee’s arrested tonight, which, trust me, he will be. You two gonna be arraigned together. That means you’ll be together when you go up to see the judge. The judge’ll give you your charges.”
“How bad is it going to look – the money?” I ask. I squint through the droplets on the window and peer out into the wet night. The rain on all surfaces breaks up the reflections of brake lights and headlights. My head is clear but I can tell I’m starting to fade; I want to leave my body.
“You can get your own lawyer or they’ll give you a court appointed one.”
“Robert, my husband.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Oscar says.
Dozens of sleeping police cruisers signal our arrival at the police precinct.
“I’m gonna say goodbye to you here,” Oscar says, nudging me in the ribs as best as he can while handcuffed. “It ain’t so bad. Shit, Kate, knowing you, you probably even like it,” he says with a grin.
I want to ask him what he means but the officers yank him out by the arm and then the door on my side opens. They pull me out by the shoulder into the pouring rain.
CHAPTER 15
I stand against the painted brick wall and stare into the camera for the mug shot. I don’t know if it’s presumptuous to imagine this shot in the Daily News, but that’s what I see. I can write the headline: UPTOWN LAWYER’S WIFE HEADS DOWNTOWN.
This arrest will mark the end of my privacy. I don’t think Robert will let me stay in jail but my parents will have to find out, my younger sister, my friends. If the media takes an interest, our entire – Robert’s entire social circle will delight in learning the details of my failure. I feel remorse for what I’ve done, for what I’m about to put my family through, but I won’t deny the love I feel for Jaylee. There’s no honor in sacrificing for love if you love the wrong person. My intent was selfless and purely driven only by my desire to protect him and my need to see him. Neither of which were achieved. I don’t even know if he’s alive.
The booking officers are professional bordering on kind, most likely because they ca
n tell that I’m a fish out of water. I apologize for everything. I trip over my own feet because I’m not really present, not ready to accept what’s happened. The officer who does the full body search is methodical and vacant. I tell her that I’ve got nothing on myself and realize mid-sentence that everyone must tell her exactly what I’m saying. I apologize again. She only nods and gestures me closer with a latex-gloved hand. I’m fingerprinted by a young officer with dazzlingly blue eyes. He looks like he might be smirking and I imagine I can tell what he’s thinking, but then I remind myself that this is his job. He does this all night. He’s not even interested in what I did wrong. They’ve all seen worse than me. What registers as extraordinary to me is standard fare to them. The ink is wet and black and I fear it will never come off. I don’t want it on my clothes.
I’m escorted upstairs by an officer who again places handcuffs on me as we exit the stairwell. Does he really think I’ll try to run? I may have been stupid enough to carry cash to a drug bust but I’ve got enough sense to face the consequences like an adult. I’m not Jason Bourne. We walk down a hallway and he double taps a gray door with the back of his hand. When no one answers he opens it into a bleak room containing nothing but a small laminate table with metal folding chairs on each side. Along the wall is a long bar that looks like the kind used in toilets stalls for the disabled. He gestures to the chair that faces away from the door and when I sit, he cuffs one of my wrists to the bar. Up close I can see that the bar and the wall are covered with scratches from the movement of other handcuffs. Ugh, what do they do to people in here? Why would they have to move around so violently?
An older gentleman in a white shirt and tie opens the door and leans in still talking to someone over his shoulder. When he turns his attention to me his wire framed glasses slip down his nose and he peers at me over them.
“Mrs. Champion, coffee – water?” he says.
I just stare at him confused. Aren’t they going to put me in a cell?
He reads my surprise. “I’m detective O’Connor. I’m just going to ask you a few questions before they take you down to central booking.”
My immediate instinct is to tell him that I’m not speaking to him without a lawyer, but I reconsider, thinking maybe I can manage to talk myself out of this mess and get back home to my own bed. Maybe up until now everything was just a show put on to scare me and they have no intention of holding me overnight.
“Coffee, please. Water. Could I have both?”
“Sure, “ O’Connor shrugs as his eyes glide over me coming to rest on my wrist handcuffed to the bar. “Jesus, Rodriguez, Get her out of the cuffs, would you!” he yells out into the hall.
Officer Rodriguez comes shuffling back in looking annoyed. “Sorry, O’Connor, just following procedure.”
I can’t help but throw him a smug look as he unlocks my wrist from the bar. I rub the slight red mark vigorously trying to erase the physical evidence of tonight from my body.
O’Connor returns with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a small bottle of water. He’s got a handful of stir sticks and sugar packets and even two little thimble containers of non-dairy creamer. I want to tell him that he shouldn’t have gone to the trouble but then I dump it all into the black coffee just because he did.
“Mrs. Champion, I need to ask you a few questions about your involvement in tonight’s activity and also some questions about Inoa.”
“Is he alright, Jaylee, I mean?” He’s allowed to tell me isn’t he?
“He’ll survive, but I’ll tell you right now he’s probably going to do some serious time after tonight.”
I clench the table with both hands fighting the urge to let the tears flow out of me. I’m both relieved that he’s okay and horrified that he’s probably been shot. I could have lost him tonight. Something deep inside me settles knowing that he’s alive. Even if I can’t see him or touch him I still feel the connection to him and it calms me.
“How long have you known your boyfriend, Mrs. Champion?’
I hate the way O’Connor says ‘boyfriend’ as if he’s got the ‘in’ on a secret I’m trying to hide from him. His glasses slip down his nose again and he stares me down with a challenging gaze. His eyes are bloodshot and the crow’s feet are visible at the corners even when he’s not making any facial expression. I shoot him a quizzical look. He exhales and leans back and rubs his knuckles over his closely cropped white hair.
“What do you know about the Trinitarios?” he asks.
“I should warn you, Detective O’Connor, that my husband is a partner at Emerson, Cross, and Grey.” I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Detective. I’m perfectly aware of my rights.
“We’re well aware, Mrs. Champion. It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve committed a crime. I’ve got every right to question you.”
“And I’ve got every right to have a lawyer present, should I choose.”
“Of course, but I don’t think you realize how truly deep into this you are and maybe if you can give me some information, I can help you backtrack your way out of it, so to speak. Quid pro quo, it’s up to you.”
I know I can’t trust this man I’ve just met. I’m also aware that he’s been trained extensively in the various methods of how to get me to do just that. I do however, have to tell him something.
“I met Jaylee in June of 2012, last summer. We became lovers in July. I’ve seen him less than a dozen times, at most. I’ve met his family and some of his friends. He took me jet skiing. On the Hudson.”
“When did you start helping him buy and sell drugs?”
I practically choke on his question. That’s what they think I’ve been doing?
“Detective, my relationship with Jaylee is – was, purely sexual.” I’m lying, but of course I’m not going to tell this man about my feelings. “I ended our relationship over six months ago. I came out tonight to help him because his friend came to me saying he was being extorted for money, that both he and his family were in danger.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t know what the money was for?”
“I. . .” I snap my mouth closed realizing it’s in my own best interest to shut up. The confession felt good. I wanted to keep going. I need to stop talking now before I get myself in trouble.
“Mrs. Champion, do you really expect us to believe you didn’t know about the drug dealing? The gang?”
“That was Jaylee’s father, I say. Not Jaylee.” It comes out as a squeak and now the hot tears are pouring down my face. I chose not to, I didn’t want to know. I still don’t want to know.
Detective O’Connor rubs his knuckles on the top of his head again. He opens a manila folder and throws it in front of me. There is a photo of a body lying in the middle of a street, a gunshot wound to the head. He’s young, maybe Dominican, and wearing a light green bandana. There seem to be a lot of people standing around. The photo has captured their images from the waist down. I bring my hand to my mouth and shake my head ‘no’.
“How well do you know your boyfriend, Mrs. Champion?” O’Connor asks.
Chills run up and down my spine. I can taste bile at the back of my throat. I want Robert right now more than I’ve ever wanted him. I need his arms around me. I need him to make this nightmare I’ve created go away.
“I want to speak to my husband,” I gasp.
“I bet you do. You don’t get to do the big deals in these gangs without putting in work. That’s not how they operate. There’s a reason Inoa isn’t out dealing on the corner. You picked a dangerous man to get involved with, Mrs. Champion, but you’ve probably figured that out by now,” O’Connor says. His tone is self-satisfied. He’s enjoying this.
“I want my phone call now, please.” Jaylee isn’t capable of killing anyone. I know him. I know his heart.
“Your husband’s here. Downstairs at the front desk with Inoa’s kid sister. He’s been asking to see you, but we don’t play like that here, Mrs. Champion. Rules are rules and apply to all criminals. You’re under
arrest as an accessory to drug trafficking. I’m afraid you’re spending the night in the tombs. Corrections is just waiting for me to sign you out.”
Detective O’Connor stands letting his chair scrape back and then uses the back of his pen to scratch his crew-cut. He shoves the folder under his arm and sweeps the detritus of my coffee fixings into his large palm. He walks toward the door.
“Mr. Champion seems like a fine person. For your sake, I hope he’s a forgiving one too.”
O’Connor doesn’t wait to see my reaction to his meddlesome comment, he’s out the door taking any hope of negotiating I had with him. I let my head crash into the table and cover my face with my arms. The tears come hot and heavy as I’m invaded with images of my girls, Jaylee shot in a hospital bed, and Robert downstairs trying to help me. I never imagined that I was capable of fucking up this severely – of tainting all that was precious to me.
Officer Rodriguez returns and clicks the cuffs back on. I expect him to do so with gusto but I’m again reminded that it’s his job because he carries it out with utmost professionalism.
“Mrs. Champion, I’ll escort you downstairs where there will be a corrections van waiting to take you to Central Booking.”
“Can I see my husband first?” I know what his answer will be but I ask anyway, praying for some divine intervention.
“No, ma’am.”
Once again tonight I feel the rain on my face but this time it feels like I’m taking my last sip of freedom, my last breath of the old life that I took for granted. I stand in my shackles and look up into the drops as they open the door to the van. I’m full of shame but I can’t undo what’s done. I hold my head back and surrender to my fate, whatever I have done – I did for love.
CHAPTER 16
An escorting officer calls my name and docket number and opens the cell to take me upstairs to see the judge. They call it the ‘tombs’ because the holding cells are in the basement of the central booking building. It’s three levels of stairs before daylight and above ground air return to the sequestered criminal. I’d compare the tombs to a sensory deprivation chamber, but that’s unfortunately not the case with the rank smells of humanity and the swarming fruit flies. It’s also cold. Without a jacket and curled up on the floor, my bones began to ache with it and I forced myself to sleep sitting upright with my knees to my chest in an attempt to preserve my own body heat.