by S I Taylor
“Lori, we have to get out of this house for a few days. I’m not sure if the people want to do any more damage than what they did today. I’m glad that neither one of us was home,” he said.
“Yeah, I was going to suggest the same. I found a place not too far from here that I was planning on moving to by the end of the month, but it looks like I’m going to ask to move in sooner,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here, it’s just that I want to feel safe and I’m shaken by all of this.”
“I know. I’m sorry you had to come home to this.” Nixon looked into Lori’s dark brown eyes and saw the worried look in her eyes. He didn’t want to put her through this but he was left with no other choice.
“It’s not your fault.” She rubbed his hands from across the counter. A smile spread across her lips, replacing the worried expression from just a few seconds earlier. “Come on, let’s start getting things in order before I pick up Reagan and you can help me move my things out of storage and into my new place once I get the approval.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’ll start with the kitchen and you can start in the bedrooms,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to turn on some music. It will calm my nerves while I work.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
He watched as she took her cell phone out flipped through the screen, her eyes brightened, and before the music started her head was already bopping to a tune in her head.
They both walked to their task and the upbeat rock music livened the mood as they both sang out of tune to the lyrics. And once more the thought of Barbara crept into his mind as he remembered the soothing tune of her voice. I hope you’re fine, Barbara, he thought as he worked.
Chapter 26
The soft, thick grass beneath her knees was cool. The day was hot. And the wind was still. She hoped that one day she could enjoy the day without being in a tough situation. It was as if she was saying a silent goodbye to everything that she hadn’t made time to enjoy.
Barbara raised her hands above her shoulders and stood, damning her sour luck. His voice echoed in her mind as he was speaking to her or rather at her.
“Barbara Wolf, you’re under arrest.”
She knew he was directly behind her and probably pointing a gun at her. She weighed her options. Should she run or stay and get arrested? If she ran and got caught, fleeing would be an added charge. If she stayed then she would be spending a lot of years in jail for stealing a lot of jewels.
She didn’t have time to think too much. She had the upper hand in this situation. He didn’t know what she would do next but she knew that his only objective was to arrest her. But he’d have to catch her first. She had made her decision. She spun around and shoved her way past him without making eye contact. He stumbled back, shocked that she would attempt to flee. He shoved his gun back in its holster and ran behind her.
There was no way she was going to jail again, let alone prison, for stealing jewels that weren’t even hers to keep.
Damn it. I left my gun on the ground when I petted the dog. Fuck, how did I let myself get distracted? she thought as she ran. Being savvy was something that she always strived to achieve but today she was acting more amateurish than ever.
She raced across the street between passing cars blowing their horns at her and angry drivers who flung their not so endearing middle fingers at her direction.
“Barbara, look out!” the officer shouted.
A loud screech jolted her still in the middle of the road. She saw a bright light ahead of her and her mother came into view. She thought it was the end. She’d dreamed about her mother many nights and it was the same nightmarish dream. But this time it was different.
A force pushed her out of the way and the stench of burned rubber in the air and its black mark stamped on the paved road was the only thing left behind. She didn’t look back to see who or what assisted her. But she wanted to believe that it was her mother’s spirit who intervened. She got up and kept running and reached a crowded park, dodging runners, bikers, skaters, and people walking along the winding path.
“Stop running,” he yelled.
He was persistent. He must have been in a special task force, because she had outrun the police many times before but with him it was getting difficult.
She looked over her shoulders and a glimpse of his gun on his hip and his silver badge swaying from his neck grabbed, her attention. He was a cop for sure. She looked forward but her knees buckled, either from exhaustion or from not paying attention to her surroundings. She didn’t have time to react before tripping and tumbling over several times.
“Shit,” she growled. She tumbled down a small hill and the weight of the boxes hitting her back with every turn. As she tumbled, the grass scratched her exposed skin, leaving rash scrapes and grass burn behind. If it wasn’t for her jacket and jeans there would’ve been more visible scars for the world to see.
The hill came to a final stop near a lake. She could barely stand as her steps went from a limp to a hop. She looked down and noticed that she had sprained her ankle. Thanks to the spark of adrenaline the pain hadn’t hit her yet. She tried to regain her momentum, but her ankle was slowing her down. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar area but there was one way to get away and that was up the hill that she came tumbling down from.
She knew that with her ankle, going up would be impossible without assistance. She thought about maybe going around the lake, but she figured it would be pointless as she would end up exactly where she was standing. She was trapped but that didn’t keep her from trying to retain the minutes of freedom that were about to be stripped from her.
She was limping but she was still moving. The pain was slow as it crept from her ankle up her legs and radiated within. It was a throbbing pain that she tried to fight through. Her face scrunched and her jaws were clenched as she tried to run, or rather jog, through the pain.
He was gaining speed as she was slowing down. She was going to get caught. Her heart was racing and her chest was rising and falling faster with the realization of her fate.
The clicking of metal being drawn slowed her down further.
“Stop running. Barbara Wolf, you’re under arrest,” he repeated.
She held her hands above her shoulders in defeat and stopped. Sweat dripped down her face. Her clothes were wet, her heart raced, and her chest heaved as she caught her breath.
His momentum caused his body to collide with hers, sending her face down on to the grass. A loud huff escaped Barbara’s lips. The sound of two bodies hitting the ground echoed in the park.
He grunted, but he didn’t hesitate. He perched up on her back and reached for his gun. He held the gun tight and pointed the round barrel on her back.
Barbara felt like her getaway ticket out of Huntersville was being stripped from her when he removed the safety blanket she had considered her backpack. “What do you have in here,” he asked.
“My personal items,” she said, grateful for the lock and chain on the boxes. There was no reason for him to search a locked box without her consent or a warrant.
His breathing was hard and labored and she heard a static sound and then he spoke. “This is Alpha-836 and I need a female officer for assistance.”
“10-4. What’s your 10-20?” the dispatcher asked.
His adrenaline was pumping and the dispatcher’s last transmission hadn’t registered yet.
“Alpha-836, what’s your location?”
He quickly answered. “I’m in a park east of Ronald Freeway Interstate-4.”
“10-4. The two female officers in the area are 10-6 at the moment on an armed robbery call.”
“10-4. Advise the chief if it’s 10-4 to go ahead with the search.”
“10-4.”
The static of the radio started again after a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Barbara, who was still pressed against the grass face down. It was a welcome interruption to the glaring eyes of the small crowd.<
br />
“Go ahead,” Alpha-836 said.
“He advised that it was 10-4 to proceed and to call him on his cell when you’re not 10-6.”
“10-4,” Alpha-836 said.
His breathing slowed by the time he was finished with his transmission. She could feel his hot breath on her. She felt hands run the length of her body not in a seductive way but in a systematic way. The hands roamed her neck, arms, torso, legs, and her pockets. When he felt satisfied, he reached for his handcuffs and placed the gun back in its holster.
“Do you have anything that will harm me such as the gun you so carelessly left on the ground which I had to pick up or any sharp objects like the one I retrieved from your jacket in this backpack?” he asked.
“Gun? What gun? Whatever you found on me is mine, anything else I cannot attest to.” She wasn’t going to implicate herself and admit that the gun was hers. Besides, it wasn’t registered to her and right now she was grateful that she left the gun behind. She at least had one less charge against her. And since he picked up the gun his prints were all over it right now.
Although she couldn’t see exactly what he was doing she heard the backpack being unzipped.
“What are these two boxes?”
“My personal items and trinkets. I said that already. I don’t have a stable home and I carry my valuables with me everywhere.” She knew he wouldn’t open the boxes as he did not have probable cause to open it for a weapon that he knew Barbara couldn’t get to since both boxes were sealed and locked.
“Isn’t a female officer supposed to search me?” she asked confidently. She wanted to bide her time but thought better of it. However, if there were more officers around, she knew that they would probably be taking their time assessing and discussing, which would make the drive to Huntersville that much longer.
She wasn’t one to wear any jewelry besides her stud earrings and the cuffs were the type that she didn’t want to wear again. He reached for her left arm and pinned it behind her lower back. He clasped the heavy metal bracelet tightly around it and then reached for her right arm above her and clasped her small wrists together, locking them in place as if handcuffing was his hobby after work.
The small group of spectators clapped as he arrested Barbara.
She had forgotten she had asked him a question by the moment of silence that transpired while he was handcuffing her. But it appeared that he was concentrating on his task before words uttered. “No female officers were available so I was given permission to search. We have a long walk back to my car,” he said. She felt droplets of liquid hit the back of her neck and considering that the afternoon was hot and humid, and it must have been his sweat that landed on her neck.
“Well, can you get off of me so I can move?”
He kneeled on one knee next to her, placed his hands on her upper arm, and with one forceful tug pulled her to her feet as he stood.
He never looked at her face. He stood next to her, took the backpack, and grabbed Barbara by her arm and guided her out of the park.
With every step she took she grunted in pain.
“I strained my ankle so our long walk could take a few hours,” she said as she limped down the path.
He stopped and assessed her ankle. She stood still, not wanting to anger him any further or give him reason to shove that gun at her once again.
He walked in front of her, crouched, grabbed her by the waist, and carried her across his shoulder like a caveman with his bride in tow.
Barbara closed her eyes as she was being carried over a man’s shoulder. Even though those shoulders were strong, broad, and muscular, these were the shoulders of the man—the cop Alpha-836—who would take her to justice and put her behind bars. She felt herself bounce up and down and her stomach pressed against his shoulder. But she dared not open her eyes, as she didn’t want to look at the faces of people who wondered about the girl being carried away like a child who’d just thrown a temper tantrum.
She made sure to jab her knees on his chest. She thought it was a payback for the foot chase and for her injured ankle. She must have tripped some sort of silent alarm in the house. How had they known she was the thief? Either those jewels had a tracker, or the job was bait for her arrest. Regardless, the police had gotten to her fast.
He came to a stop and fished for his keys in his pocket. He opened the door and Barbara opened her eyes. She was expecting to see the blue sedan, but instead she was shoved inside the back seat of a black Cadillac SUV.
“Ouch!” She yelled as her body throbbed, and being shoved in the back of the SUV added to her pain.
He locked the door and walked to the driver’s side. He started the car and sped down the street and the only sound in the car was the robotic voice of the GPS navigation on the dash.
“I didn’t do anything. Why am I being arrested?” Barbara said, breaking the silence.
“You’ll know soon,” he said. “Besides, do you know how many traffic laws you just broke with your driving?”
If her hands were free she would’ve crossed them in front of her. But instead she looked away, angry at him, at herself, at her situation, and at the world. “I have rights and I demand a lawyer.”
“Fine. If you want it that way, then that’s the route we’ll take.”
He jerked to a quick stop and she jolted forward as her head collided with the back of the passenger seat. With her arms clasped behind her back it was impossible to use her hands to prevent her collision. If not for her long legs and the fact that her knees secured her, she would have fallen on the floor and would have struggled to get back up.
“Fuck, you did that on purpose.”
“I’m doing exactly what you want.”
“I didn’t ask to get rammed into the back of the passenger seat.”
She readjusted herself and peeked at him. He grabbed a small notebook from the center console and started reading her rights verbatim.
As he read every line she felt as if those same rights that were supposed to protect her were being stripped away one by one.
“One. You have the right to remain silent.”
What difference does it make? If I speak, I’m lying, and if I don’t, I’m hiding something.
“Two. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”
Yeah, the same court of law that will lock me up for the mere fact that I’m a black female, living in a shithole of a crime-driven neighborhood, and with a fucking record.
“Three. You have the right to talk to a lawyer and have him present with you while you are being questioned.”
Of course, the lawyer I can’t afford to buy. Even the money I got as an advance will not be enough for this lengthy trial that I’m sure will be dragged out just to piss me off and make me plead guilty. Fuck, what am I saying? What trial? People like me don’t get fair trials.
“Four. If you cannot afford to hire a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you before any questioning, if you wish.”
I could probably represent myself better than the appointed public defender who just graduated from law school. Which is obviously a setup. The system is set up to fail people like me.
“Five. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements.”
What a load of crap. These rights were not designed for the poor. But it shuts any questioning down.
“Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?”
“Fuck, I invoked them, so of course I understand them.”
His eyes shot up from the small notepad at her. He rolled his eyes and continued reading.
“Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us now?”
“No!”
I don’t even know the charges, or your name for that matter. I’m not going to incriminate myself.
“There. That’s your Miranda Warning. Your rights.”
He shoved the card back inside the center console, gripped the
steering wheel hard, and resumed the drive.
He didn’t speak the entire ride and she was sure it had something to do with her invoking her rights. He was upset. Maybe for the chase, or because he’d had to carry her, or that she wasn’t a fool and would not talk. She knew the game and knew how to play it well. And she was not there to make any friends.
The sound of music cut through the silence. Barbara realized it was his cell phone that was ringing. He fished for the phone in his pocket and quickly answered.
“Hello,” he said. “Yes, she’s in custody. We’re on our way to the… I’m not sure, sir. I could be wrong… No mistakes, understood. Okay, we’ll go there instead and wait for further instructions,” he said and hung up.
She looked out the window after an hour drive. They came to stop at a cheap motel as dawn approached and the sky was filled with hues of reds, yellows, and oranges. She wondered why they were at a motel. The blinking neon-red motel sign blinded her instantly.
This must be a rest stop for truck drivers, as the parking lot was bigger than the motel itself. The deserted location creeped the hell out of her. She hoped the rooms were nicer than the old chipped green paint and rusted metal that decorated the old two-story building.
“What are we doing here?”
“Following orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“My boss’s.”
“That still doesn’t answer why we’re here.”
“Are you going to talk to me now after I read you your Miranda Warning?”
“That’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“Well, anything that comes out of my mouth will be regarding what happened, so if you don’t want to hear it then I suggest you exercise your second right. You have the right to…”
“You already said them and I know them well.”
“Good. Spares me from repeating myself. Now stay put, I’ll be right back.”
“As if I could go anywhere,” she mumbled.