Yours Forever

by Bella Winters

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I exclaimed. “This is total bullshit. “

  “As soon as I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” she said with a sympathetic tone.

  I nodded my head and smiled, grateful that at least one person in the precinct actually gave a shit about Josie. I didn’t know what made them think that she was a criminal, but I had to get her out of there. I walked back into the lobby and waited, pacing the floor as I ticked through the things in my mind. I had so many emotions flooding through my mind, from anger to sadness, to fear, and then to a gut-wrenching feeling of hopelessness. There was nothing worse than watching someone you loved get taken into a situation like this, unable to understand her rights, and put to the test by the hard-ass cops. I could already see Josie now, sitting in the interrogation room with tears flowing down her cheeks.

  I took a deep breath and sat down in one of the chairs in the waiting area, starting to understand that it was going to be a long day if I didn’t do something about this. But what? I didn’t have any rights, just because I was an attorney. I really wished my father was there at that moment. He would have kicked the door in, picked up Josie, and marched out of the station, enraged at how they were treating her with no real support or representation. As a lawyer, I knew what they could do in an interrogation room, but all I could do was wait and hope that my arms would be wrapped around Josie’s body soon.

  Chapter 18

  Josie

  “How do you know, Eliza Barber, Ms. Gray?”

  The police were interrogating me, and they had been for many hours. I was exhausted, and the only thing they offered me was a cup of coffee. Everyone looked at me so angrily, as if they were positive that I was a cold-blooded killer. I was terrified of every person that came into the room. It was like a crime drama show. There were people pretending to be nice, people pretending to be assholes, and others that just asked direct questions, wrote something down, and left.

  I had no clue what was going on, but I didn’t want to incriminate myself, so I just denied every allegation they threw at me. In reality, I wasn’t lying. I really had no idea what these detectives were talking about. They threw pictures of a dead woman in front of me, witness testimony of seeing a girl that fit my description, and told me that they had evidence that I was the murderer.

  I shook my head when I first heard that. There was no way they could have evidence on me. Obviously, I hadn’t killed anyone. Well, it was obvious to me, not so much to the cops who kept grilling me. After I denied any connection to the murder, the female detective left the room and then came back carrying two plastic evidence bags in her hand. She tossed them down on the table in front of me and looked at my face. One bag held a large knife, and the other one contained a bloody, ripped up shirt. I shook my head and looked at her confused.

  “We found that knife, the murder weapon, wrapped in that shirt, the victim’s shirt, in your trash can,” she said.

  “That’s impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t know that woman. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t know how that got there, but I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Come on, Josie,” the woman said, sitting down in the chair across from me. “Your only alibi witness is your father, and he’s nowhere to be found. There is testimony from other eyewitnesses placing you, or someone that looks like you, at the scene of the crime. We found the murder weapon wrapped in the victim’s shirt in your trash can. Do you really expect us to believe that you’re innocent?”

  “Yes,” I said with exasperation. “Doesn’t that seem awfully convenient to you? Besides, the witness saw someone with dark hair from the top of floor of an apartment building across the street. There was no way they could ID me as that person, and the reason for that is because I didn’t fucking do it!”

  “Look,” she said, putting her hands in her lap. “Just confess. Tell us everything, and we will ask the prosecutor for leniency. You understand that when we take you to court, the district attorney is going to seek the maximum sentence if you don’t cooperate. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, and sweetheart, those girls are a lot tougher than your victim. You won’t last long in there at all.”

  I crossed my arms and looked away, growing tired of being called a murderer. I knew how the evidence looked, but I didn’t do it. I wasn’t going to confess to a crime that I didn’t commit. I knew the deal was that I take the fall for this murder. I knew that when Paulie and Harry got wind that I was refusing to claim that I was guilty, they would probably go after my father if they hadn’t already done so, but this was serious. I had given my life to my father for the last twenty years, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of it behind bars because he couldn’t get his shit together. I could tell the detectives about Paulie and Harry, but then what? They would research it, find them, and those gangster assholes would refuse to admit it. Then they would kill my father anyway. I was pretty much stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  “Fine,” she said, slamming her hands on the table and startling me from my thoughts. “We’ll do it your way. I hope you understand that when we go into that courtroom, we are going for the win. We’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

  The detective grabbed the bags and looked at me one last time before walking out of the interrogation room. She slammed the door behind her, and I jumped, still completely terrified of every sound. All I could do at that point was stay silent, no matter who came into the room. I had said my piece and didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have it twisted in court. I was innocent, and I was being set up by the mob. It was like a bad cop drama, only I was the innocent one, and the cops were doing everything they could to pin it on me, just like Harry and Paulie. I just wished it would all go away, like a bad dream.

  Several hours later, and a dozen detectives later, one of the cops came in and grabbed me by the arm, lifting me from the chair and escorting me back to the holding cells. He took off my cuffs and shoved me into the empty room. I rubbed my wrists and looked over my shoulder, waiting for him to leave. I walked over to my bed and curled up in a ball, wrapping my arms around my body. It was so cold in there, and the orange jumpsuit they had put me in was thin. Tears began to pour out of my eyes as I laid there, shivering, and I muffled the sound of my sobs so I didn’t alert the other inmates. They had already ruthlessly teased me like I was fresh bait when I walked in. Then, as if it were a dream itself, my tears went silent, and I heard a familiar voice. I sat up quickly and looked around, my eyes falling on Blaine, standing at my cell with a sad face.

  “Blaine,” I cried out, running to the bars and sticking my hands through for him to hold.

  I pressed my forehead against the metal and could feel his skin touching mine. It was exactly what I needed at that moment, and for a second, I felt a little bit stronger. We stood there for several moments, just taking in each other’s presence. I had been so scared and so lonely, and I didn’t know where he was or how to contact him.

  “Sorry, it took so long to get back here,” he said, pulling his head back. “I had to push my way through the ranks to even get this small amount of time.”

  “I thought attorneys could do that,” I replied.

  “Not unless you tell them you want to see your lawyer,” he replied. “They will keep me away as long as the law allows. They know once you lawyer up, they have lost their edge. It’s harder to bully someone when they have a lawyer letting them know what they can and can’t say.”

  “But I didn’t do it,” I said. “There were these—”

  “Shh,” he said, looking around. “Not here. We are not alone here, and anything that is said can be used against you. Besides, if what I gathered is what happened, you can’t trust the other inmates in this place.”

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  “Stay quiet, and the next cop you come across, tell them you want to see your lawyer,” he instructed. “That way, the next time we see each other, it will be private, and we can
go over everything. Until then, you can’t say anything, not a word, no matter what they threaten you with.”

  “They are ruthless,” I said, looking down at the floor.

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure from the way they are acting, this is pretty serious,” he said.

  “I know,” I said, too afraid to tell him the charges. “I just want to get out of here and be somewhere safe. Be with you.”

  Everything was such a mess, and from the outside, I understood that it looked like I was one hundred percent guilty, no questions asked. I wanted to be there when he had the charges explained to him so I could tell him what really happened, but that would mean getting out of jail, and they weren’t letting me go anywhere, anytime soon. I knew that all of this might have been too much for Blaine to take, and I would understand if he took off and washed his hands of the whole thing. We may love each other, but sometimes, outside events are stronger than love. Sometimes, even love can’t hold up against murder charges. I wouldn’t blame him, though. I wasn’t even sure what I would do if the roles were reversed. There was no way he could totally believe me, without questioning it in some way.

  Blaine leaned his head forward and slid his hands up to grasp my face. He kissed me gently through the bars. The buzzer to the outside door went off, and a guard walked in. Blaine looked over at him and nodded, grasping my hands even tighter. He looked me in the eyes like he always did, and I didn’t see a tiny pinch of doubt in his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed me again, and I could tell our time was up.

  “I want you to stay strong,” he said. “Let them know you want to see me so I can start being allowed regular visits, and we can get this all straightened out. In the meantime, I’m putting together a team of the best lawyers in the state, and we are going to find a way to prove your innocence. Whoever is doing this will not get away with it forever. I promise. There are always holes in every story, and I’m going to find theirs.”

  “Okay,” I said, sniffling and walking along the cage as he walked toward the door.

  “I’m going to get these ridiculous charges dropped if it’s the last thing I do,” he said. “Just hang in there, okay? And Josie? I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, walking along.

  “You’ll see it’s all worth it when you are free and we sue the hell out of the city for putting you through this.”

  I shook my head and grasped onto the bars as he was escorted from the area. The door slammed behind him, and I jumped, closing my eyes and letting the tears fall down my cheeks. I walked back over to the bed and opened up the gray, scratchy blanket. I pulled the hood of my jumpsuit over my head and laid down on the thin mattress. I pulled the blanket over my body and huddled underneath, thankful that it was at least warm. I stared at the cinder block wall, only glancing up when a guard would enter or exit the area outside the cells. I could smell the cold steel of the bars and the not so clean toilet against the wall. I turned my body over and faced the wall, not wanting anyone to see me crying. I pulled the rubber band from my hair and let my locks fall to my shoulders, covering my neck and helping me to stay warm.

  I wanted to crawl into a ball and never come out. I was absolutely terrified in that place, and it got even worse when the women in other cells would start acting crazy. I knew they were bored, but I was the target of the moment, being the newest one in there and the most fragile. Those girls saw right through me, and I even heard them whispering that there was no way I could have killed anyone. I wished the police would open their eyes and see it that way, too. But they weren’t going to, and I needed to come to terms with the fact that there was a really good chance I would be spending a lot more time behind bars. I needed to start getting comfortable with the steel bars and cold floors.

  Chapter 19

  Blaine

  I scanned through the court documents in front of me, unable to fully comprehend what I was looking at. The district attorney was throwing a long list of charges at Josie, from obstruction of justice to murder in the first degree. Anyone who talked to her for five seconds would realize she wasn’t capable of committing crimes like these, but apparently, the state of Florida didn’t agree with me.

  Obviously, the first-degree murder charge was the most serious. It was a capital offense. If convicted by a jury, she could be facing the death penalty. She could be facing lethal injection or a life in prison for a murder she wasn’t even part of. I couldn’t understand how the justice system had failed her so badly. I became a lawyer because I believed in the system. I knew if the judicial system was working properly, someone’s innocence or guilt would be brought to light, but this did not feel like the system was working properly. This was a witch hunt.

  Every single one of the detectives working the case seemed more interested in pinning this murder on Josie than actually finding out the truth. They weren’t trying to determine her culpability or look for other suspects. They were completely focused on proving she was guilty.

  Josie was my sweet and innocent baby. There was no way she was guilty of this crime. She was the most loving woman I had ever met, and she didn’t have connections to anyone in the community where the victim lived, much less the victim herself. There had to be more to the story than what was being presented. Unfortunately, the police had some damaging evidence against her, and although the witness testimony could be explained away since they were so high up in the building, the fact that the murder weapon and victim’s clothing were found in Josie’s trashcan would be difficult to explain. There had to be a mistake here somewhere, and I was determined to find it.

  I knew that I couldn’t solve this case on my own, so I had been putting together a team to help with the research and defense. I called Anderson to my office to go over the details and help consult with me on proving Josie’s innocence. I knew it would be hard for him to swallow, but I had never been surer of anything in my life, and I knew that he would respect that. I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing over the details presented so far in the case. Although our firm specialized in financial law, we had some really solid talent and were ready to start diving into criminal defense. I knew my father would have never questioned me on the decision, and I think that Anderson knew that as well, since he didn’t even try to argue us out of taking the case.

  Anderson walked to the door of my office and tapped on the doorframe, bringing me out of my swirling thoughts. He was wearing one of his Armani suits, and his peppered hair made him look like Richard Gere. I nodded and tipped my chair forward, motioning for him to come in. He shut the door behind him and sat down across from me, his face twisted in concern.

  “I want to say something, and you may not like it,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” I replied.

  “The evidence is mounting against Josie, and it’s going to be incredibly difficult to prove her innocence without a single soul seeing her that day,” he said.

  “Her father saw her,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, her gambling-addicted father who has been MIA now for weeks,” he replied. “I want to make sure that you really trust this girl. I don’t think it’s a strange or outrageous question to ask. You’ve only known her for a couple of weeks. Is it possible she just pulled the wool over your eyes?”

  “No,” I said, looking down at the documents on my desk. “I know Josie, like really know her. She is the kindest woman I have ever met, and there is no way she did this. I know it, not just in my brain, but in my heart as well. It’s not wishful thinking. It’s just the way it is.”

  “All right,” Anderson said with a sigh after watching my face for several moments. “So, let’s get to it. What are we working with here?”

  I pulled out everything I had on the case, and Anderson and I went to work, starting to piece together our defense strategy. I could see the concern on his face when he went over the evidence, but I realized how good of an eye he had for details. A fresh pair of eyes was worth its weight in gold. Anderson pointed out that the knife and shirt w
ere found in a trashcan on the curb, not necessarily Josie’s trashcan. And even if it was her trashcan, anyone could have had access to it.

  We called the precinct to find out more about that and sent one of our team members over to check it out. If it wasn’t Josie’s trashcan, that could help us prove that someone was trying to set her up. Just as we pulled out our notebooks and started making lists of things to do, my secretary alerted me to a call on line one.

  I picked up the phone, looking down at the paperwork as I answered. The voice on the other end of the line was a woman’s. She was quick to respond and started asking me questions about the school teacher that was accused of murder. Instantly, I realized that she was someone from the media. I replied to her with no comment and slammed the phone down on the receiver. The media frenzy was starting already.

  “That was the media asking about the school teacher accused of murder,” I said, rubbing my face. “I knew it was coming eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this fast.”

  “We’ll get the media crew on it,” Anderson said, pulling out his cell phone.

  “Wait,” I said, putting up my hand. “The press is going to have an absolute field day with all of this, especially when you take one look at how fragile and innocent Josie looks. We need to have two approaches. We need to start out by not giving any information to the press. When the media frenzy starts going wild, then we need to approach it and show Josie’s sweet side, which won’t be hard because it’s pretty much the only side she has. We need to play up her lack of a criminal past, her challenging home life, and the fact that she was looking forward to spending the school year with her students. Make her look like the angel that she is.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  “Is there any way we can keep this out of the press?”

  “I can make a couple of phone calls, but unfortunately, it is usually out of our hands,” he said with a grimace. “These things tend to take on a life of their own.”