by Hannah Ford
My hands balled into fists as my side as anger pulsed through my body. I was losing my grip on my emotions, and I struggled to hold on.
“Go home, Charlotte,” he said as he began walking toward the door. “You’re not needed here anymore.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To Central Booking to see if I can talk to Noah.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing you can do.” He began walking toward the door again, his steps echoing through the empty room.
“No,” I said, running after him. “Please, I want to come.”
“Charlotte – ”
“Please,” I said. “You told me I needed to get a thicker skin. So let me try.”
My instinct was to keep talking, to list all the reasons I should be allowed to go with him. But something inside of me said to be quiet, to stay silent, that talking too much was going to make me seem weak.
Professor Worthington sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you are not to say a word.”
I nodded.
I would promise anything, as long as it got me to Noah.
***
I drove Noah’s car to Central Booking, then parked it in a lot around the corner. It would cost a fortune, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to try parking on the street – I was lucky enough I’d been able to navigate the car through the maze of one-way streets and honking cabs and red lights without getting into an accident.
Professor Worthington was waiting for me outside the building and we walked inside together, the familiar smell of urine and steel hitting my nose.
A uniformed guard told us Noah was still at the police station.
So we sat down to wait.
I told myself that Noah would get himself out of this, the same way he’d done before. That if he could get himself out on bail for a murder charge, that he would certainly be able to do the same for a simple assault charge.
And yet we waited.
And waited.
My body was wired with anticipation, so I pulled out my iPad and pretended to work, but my eyes slid over the screen, not absorbing anything I was reading.
Noah, Noah, Noah.
He was all I could think about, all I could focus on.
The hours ticked by, until finally, at around six o’clock, an officer appeared in front of us.
“You can see him now,” he said curtly.
Professor Worthington stood up, and I stood up too, but he stopped me. “No, Charlotte,” he said. “You stay here.”
“But – ”
“He’ll be out soon,” he said. “I’m going to get him out. Don’t worry.”
I wanted to fight him, but I was afraid of seeming too emotional. And Professor Worthington was right. There was nothing I could do.
He followed the officer down the hallway, and I sat back down.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I’d never known what patience was until now. I remembered those days waiting for my father to die, how the time between his breaths had begun to stretch, how I’d been so ready for his suffering to end. And yet somehow the time seemed to have passed faster then than it did now, because I’d known deep down that once it was over, my father would be gone, and even though he had been ready to die, part of me had wanted to hold on to every second.
I tried not to seem nervous as a man on the other side of the room eyed my iPad. I wondered if he wanted to steal it. I put it back in my bag and hugged it to my chest.
Finally, after about an hour, Professor Worthington came storming back into the waiting area, looking agitated.
“He won’t be out until tomorrow,” he said.
“What?”
“They won’t let him out until he sees a judge. And that won’t be until tomorrow.”
I followed him down the stairs, struggling to keep up with him. It was dark out now, and the air had turned chilly. I had no coat, and a blast of cold wind hit me hard, sucking the breath out of me.
“So what do we do?” I asked. “I don’t … what can we do?”
“He asked me to drive you back to my apartment,” he said. “You can stay the night with me, and then tomorrow morning we’ll come back to the courthouse for his arraignment.”
The thought of the hours stretching before me was unbearable.
“I want to go back to Noah’s,” I said.
“No.” The professor shook his head. “He was very clear that you were to come with me. He told me what happened with Josh. He’s very worried about you.”
I swallowed. “Okay,” I said. “Just… can we stop back at Noah’s apartment so I can get my things?”
“Yes.”
We’d been walking toward the parking lot on the other side of the street, and Professor Worthington handed the ticket to the parking attendant, who brought his car around.
It was a dark Lexus, with tinted windows and a moon roof.
I slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather hitting my nostrils.
Professor Worthington turned the key in the ignition and I pressed my forehead against the window, the pane of glass cool against my forehead.
“Are you okay, Charlotte?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He stayed silent for a moment, and then he said quietly. “I’m proud of you.”
“What?” I turned away from the window and looked over at him. He was sitting up straight in the seat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“I’m proud of you.”
“For what?” I was pretty sure it was a compliment, but it was also a strange thing to hear coming from your professor. Law professors didn’t normally use the word ‘proud’ when speaking to you. It was also a little odd seeing as how just a few hours ago he’d basically called me weak.
“For going to Force. For trying to lure Josh out. You were very brave, Charlotte.” His tone was light, casual, but something about it was disconcerting.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Of course, I’m disappointed, too.”
“Disappointed?”
He looked at me. “Josh?”
“What about him?”
“Did you really think Josh killed Katie? What would be his motive?”
An icy hot shiver of fear ran up my spine, and my mouth went dry.
“You were very brave, Charlotte. But you went off the script.” He sounded angry now. “You took things into your own hands. And that’s not allowed. That’s not what I’ve come to expect of you.”
He reached over and locked the doors, the sound reverberating through the car and rattling my throat.
“Josh didn’t kill Katie, Charlotte. I did. And now we’re going to play a little game. And see if you can figure out why.”
The car turned off onto a side street, nowhere near Noah’s apartment.
The horrible reality of the situation hit me like a train slamming into my body.
Josh hadn’t killed Katie.
Professor Worthington had.
Noah was locked up in jail.
And I was alone with a killer.
End of Book Thirteen
Look For Book Fourteen, Coming Soon!
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