by Mary Frame
“With the neodymium magnet you stole from the station?” he interjects.
I nod, watching him closely. I can’t tell if he totally hates me now or not. His expression is unreadable. “There’s a birth certificate with the name Andrea Winchester. Same age as Paige. Parents were Mary and John. I did some research and found an article from the year Paige—Andrea was born. Her parents died and left her a bunch of money in a trust. She was kidnapped when she was only a couple months old. I think my parents are the ones who took her.”
I tell him about the attorney guy, the way my parents had Paige bring him and his cronies their drinks. How unusual it was. How he was there tonight at the gala and how the parents must be working with him or owe him something.
Finally, I tell him where I took Paige. To Camp Umpqua up in the mountains, with Naomi. The parents would never think to look for her there, plus she’s surrounded by other kids and counselors. I gave the head counselor a giant sob story about how our parents had died suddenly—that was pure wish fulfillment—and Paige needed to spend some time at camp as a distraction. I promised to pay them when I came to pick Paige up. I might have also dropped Jared’s name to get them to believe me. It worked like a charm.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods at the information and makes a note in his book.
Frustration at his lack of expression bubbles inside me.
“I know I’ve broken like a hundred laws. You can put me away. I just want Paige to be taken care of. And away from them. I’ll testify, I’ll go to prison, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep her safe. You promised me before.” My voice cracks a little on the last word. I’ve talked so much my throat is dry.
Still, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands and leaves the room. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh or bash my head against the table. But I don’t have to wait long for him to return. Less than a minute later, he comes back into the room and hands me a bottle of water.
When I try to open it with my cuffed hands, he makes a small, frustrated noise and then removes the cuffs.
His hands don’t linger on mine. Every movement is quick, efficient, and impersonal. And with each detached motion, something strong and sharp stabs my chest.
I gather myself and my emotions—they won’t save me or Paige now—and gulp down a few swallows of the cold water before asking, “What’s going to happen now?”
His mouth flattens into a thin line.
I can’t tell if he’s irritated with me or the situation in general or with something else happening beyond this room.
“I can’t tell you yet. But I have one more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you just turn your parents in when they first came to town?”
“To who? Who would believe me? They’d already set the trap of being my aunt and uncle. Exposing them would have meant telling the truth about who I really am. I would have had to admit I had lied and deceived, and then ask people to trust that I was telling the truth. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
“But now you do?”
“No, I don’t. But what happens to me doesn’t matter anymore. I thought I could fix everything without help.” I slump back in the seat with a sigh, shutting my eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking up at him. “But once I learned the truth about Paige, none of that mattered anymore. I knew I had a way to protect her, regardless of what happened to me. You don’t have to believe me. You can confirm the truth about Paige, and then you can protect her. That’s all I want.”
He watches me closely and then nods, as if I’ve just confirmed something he already suspected. “We have a bed ready for you, so you can get some sleep.” His voice is brusque and businesslike. Like I’m just one more criminal he has to deal with at work.
“Here?”
He nods.
I’m too exhausted to argue, and the truth is, I don’t want to be released. All that awaits me beyond these walls are people I’ve scammed and the parents.
I follow him without argument down the empty hall and past rows of vacant cells with barren bed frames and layers of dust. He leads me to the open door of the last stall at the very end. It’s been swept out and there are clean sheets on the cot, along with what looks like a brand new pillow. Folded clothes sit on top of a chair in the corner.
There’s even a bag of takeout that I can smell from the doorway. I know what it is without looking. It’s my favorite meal from Stella’s: a cheeseburger and fries. A last meal?
I pause before going in. Being locked into a small room does not sound enticing, even with all the amenities.
“If you aren’t charging me with anything, you can’t keep me here.”
“I know.”
I hesitate, only for a second, and then step into the cell.
He backs up, leaving.
“Wait.” I swallow, my tongue thick in my dry mouth. “Paige . . .”
His voice is quiet when he responds. “She’s going to be okay. And you are, too. I can’t tell you anything else right now. But I promise it will all end up okay. Do you trust me?”
The question he’s been asking me, and I’ve been asking myself, for the last three months. I finally have a real answer. “Yes.”
Then he leaves, the door to the cell sliding shut behind him with a decisive click.
And then I’m alone. There’s one high-set, narrow window facing the front parking lot. I have to get up on my tiptoes to look out of it. Two black sedans and an empty police cruiser sit out front. The sky is brightening in the distance. The sun will be rising soon.
I’m exhausted.
I make quick work of the food. Someone also left a new bar of soap next to the sink and I use it to clean up as much as I can. I’m surprised to find the clothes on the chair are mine. Someone got them from my house. I cringe. Ruby’s house. My old sweats, a T-shirt, and then a summer dress Tabby gave me. Under the chair is a pair of sandals that were also a gift from Tabby. Why are those here? Who brought them? I’m too tired to try and dissect it all.
I put on the sweats and T-shirt and crawl onto the bed, at first a little grossed out by the thought of sleeping on a jail cell cot, but the sheets smell like dryer sheets and I’m almost too wiped out to care.
What if this doesn’t work? What if Jared is so mad at me he doesn’t take care of Paige? What if she ends up alone or in foster care or . . . ?
I shut my eyes against the thoughts crowding my brain.
I trust Jared. I know he’ll do what’s right.
~*~
I’ve barely shut my eyes when a noise wakes me up. I can’t believe I fell asleep at all.
It’s the cell door opening.
The sound jars me awake, and I sit up with a start before rubbing my eyes and focusing on my visitor.
It’s Anderson.
My heart drops a little that it’s not Jared, although I don’t know why I would want to see him right now. Don’t need to dig the knife in any deeper.
Anderson nods at me. He’s wearing his uniform. His expression is somber but his eyes are warm. “I’ve got to take you to the court room.”
“Court room?”
“We have a small arraignment room set up for Judge Ramsey. Haven’t used it in almost five years, but it’s here.”
“Arraignment? What am I being charged with? Jared told me I wasn’t being charged with anything.”
Anderson shrugs. “I guess identity theft or something. I think they brought up the charges just this morning.”
“Can I talk to Jared first?” I haven’t even been booked. They can’t do this.
“Not yet. He’ll be there, though. I’m just supposed to get you ready and take you in. We have twenty minutes. I’ll be at the end of the hall. Just holler when you’re ready.”
I’m not entirely sure what to make of this new development. An arraignment? Jared told me less than eight hours ago that he wasn’t charging me. What’s changed?
Trust me, he said.
With numb fingers, I put on the dress that was left for me and the sandals.
I pull my hair into a knot in the back of my head as best I can, wash my face and call for Anderson.
When he comes back, he’s got a set of handcuffs.
“Just a formality,” he assures me when my eyes drop to the silver objects.
I nod and stick my hands out dutifully.
Keeping my head down, I follow him out of the holding area and back into the main building.
I hear the voices before I see them. Some kind of chanting, the words too muffled to discern. But the sound gets louder and louder the closer we get.
We turn down a wide hallway and there they are.
The first person I notice is Tabby. She’s leading a line of people, and they’re all holding signs. Hers reads Free Not-Ruby.
A startled laugh escapes me.
More people with different signs are crowded behind her. Eleanor is holding a sign that says, What she says, and it’s pointing at Tabby. Mrs. Olsen is in an oversized Garfield shirt with cat-print leggings, her own colorful sign reading #Resist. Then there’s Miss Viola in her wheelchair, Mr. Bingel and the boys—each with their own signs—and more. It looks like half the town is here.
When they spot me coming down the hall, they go a little crazy, waving, clapping, and cheering.
What are they doing here?
“Are you letting her go?” Tabby demands once we’re in earshot.
“Tabby, you know I can’t tell you anything about that. Now if you’ll get out of the way.”
“This is a miscarriage of justice!” she yells. “We demand you release her immediately.”
A few hollers of agreement erupt behind her.
He sighs. “Why don’t you talk to your brother? He’ll explain to you that I have to do this.”
“My brother is a moron.”
The door to the arraignment room opens, and Troy sticks his head out.
“There’s the moron now!” Mrs. Olsen yells.
Troy frowns. “What have I missed?” His eyes meet Anderson’s and then flick to mine. “Good, you guys are here. Come on in, we’re ready for you.” He holds the door open wider.
Tabby yells, “What is happening in there?”
“This isn’t a public hearing, Tabby.”
“That’s bullshit. Our voices will be heard!”
“Just let them in, Troy,” Jared calls from inside the room.
Troy rolls his eyes but opens the door a bit wider, and the crowd filters in.
Jared was smart to allow them to enter. Apparently soothed by having one of their demands met, they mellow out a bit, the dissension diminishing into quieter grumbles and whispers, mostly wondering what’s going on from the sound of it.
An answer I’m seeking as well.
Anderson and I follow in behind the mob, but Troy moves out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
It’s set up sort of like a courtroom, with a desk up front for a bench. Facing it is another table and folding chairs for litigants. Jared is sitting at the table on one side, facing the bench, his back to me, but he’s dressed in his police uniform. Chairs for the public face the setup, but there aren’t enough for the number of people who’ve barged in. Some stay standing in the back.
Anderson leads me to the seat next to Jared and I sit. I try to catch Jared’s eye but he says something to Anderson, leaning close to his ear and keeping his voice low too low to hear. Anderson nods and then heads back to the door. He sticks his head out and relays whatever the message was to Troy.
I don’t have time to speak or ask what’s going on, because a side door opens and Judge Ramsey walks in. He’s not wearing a robe or anything, just a simple gray suit and dark-blue tie.
When he walks in, everyone stands.
“Sit down. This isn’t a trial.” He motions to everyone before sitting at the table in the front of the room, facing the rest of us. “You want to explain why we are here today, Deputy?”
Jared stands. “We’re here to determine if charges should be pressed against this woman, Charlotte . . .” He pauses and finally, finally looks at me. “What’s your last name?”
I shrug. I have no idea what my full legal name is.
“Against Charlotte.” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Surprise? Pity? I can’t tell because he looks away too quickly.
“We don’t know if there are charges to be brought?” Judge Ramsey asks, his brows furrowing, and for a second I get a glimpse of the power behind the wire-framed glasses. His voice, although not loud, holds the authority of someone who’s used to being in charge.
“Correct, Your Honor. We asked you here in case anyone has cause to charge Charlotte with a crime.”
“This is a bit unconventional, but I trust you will explain all in due course, Deputy.” He nods at Jared.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
A bit unconventional? That’s like saying Satan is a bit evil.
“The first people we brought in to be interviewed are Charlotte’s aunt and uncle, David and Leah Hampton,” Jared says.
I can’t help but note he didn’t call them my parents, even though I told him they were actually my parents and that David and Leah aren’t their real names. Does he not believe me?
The rear door opens and Anderson lets them in. Murmurs and shuffling fills the room as they come to the front, and then the parents are there, standing between the judge and Jared. Mother has red-rimmed eyes, and she’s clutching a handkerchief in one hand. Father looks somber and tired. They are the perfect picture of grieving relatives. Father has a briefcase in one hand.
“Can you tell us what you know about Charlotte?” Jared’s voice is gentle.
Does he believe them over me?
“We only ask for leniency for our dear niece.” Mother grips the handkerchief tighter and holds it up to her nose. “After her parents passed, she . . . didn’t do well with the trauma. The doctors say she has a persecutory delusional disorder. When someone experiences a shock, sometimes their brain has a bit of a break. In her case, it’s caused her to believe we are out to get her. It’s to be expected, since she was so young, and she’s always had a rather fragile constitution. We thought she was getting better, but then we discovered it was getting worse. That’s why we had to follow her here to Castle Cove. Paige called us and told us what was going on, and we knew her psychotic break was worse than ever before. She was stealing from people.”
I can only stare in shock. This is the angle they want to go for, that I’m crazy?
I can feel the eyes of the people behind me boring into me, and I try to look as sane as possible.
“Stealing?” Jared asks. “Because she pretended to be Ruby?”
Father opens his briefcase and hands him a sheaf of papers. “It was worse than that. We found these in her house when we were trying to find Paige. I think you’ll recognize those accounts, Deputy. Charlotte has a problem. She thinks she needs money and she uses people to get it. She’s the one who stole the jewels and we have proof.”
Jared flips through the papers.
I can’t see them from where I am, but I imagine they are the same photographs they showed me before. I’m glad I already told all of these things to Jared.
“Why didn’t you say anything to anyone about Charlotte not being Ruby?” Jared asks.
“We didn’t want her to get in trouble. It’s not her fault. You see, she’s suffered from these breakdowns before and she just doesn’t know what she’s doing. We thought if we played along for a little bit, we could convince her to come back home with us and we could take care of her, no harm done.”
“So you’re saying she’s mentally unstable?”
Mother lets out a brief sob. “Yes.”
“But you let her care for her young sister even though you know she has these problems?”
Mother’s hand flaps and she dabs her eyes with the cloth in her hand. �
��We thought she was better. She had been on medication and seeing a therapist for some time. And she’s always loved Paige. Her mental disorder doesn’t cause her to harm others, at least it never has before. And we let Paige know we were here for her, so if there was ever any trouble, she could come to us.”
“Do you know where Paige is now?”
There’s a brief flicker in Mother’s eyes. “No. And we’re so frightened.” Now she breaks down in sobs, grasping Father’s coat and burying her face in his shoulder.
Brava. I would slow-clap if it wouldn’t lend credence to my “persecutory delusions.”
Jared thanks the parents and they move back to their seats somewhere behind me, Mother still clutching Father while he consoles her and she sniffs into his neck.
Ugh.
Troy sticks his head in the room and nods in my direction.
No, not my direction, Jared’s direction.
Jared flicks a hand at Anderson.
What are they doing?
“So we have potential crimes of kidnapping, impersonation and identity theft, and then this,” he holds up the papers the parents provided. “Fraudulent withdrawal, robbery, fraud, and obstruction of justice. Let’s address these one at a time. The first one is impersonation and identity theft. For that, I’d like to introduce everyone to Ruby Simpson. The real Ruby.”
Murmurs swell around the room in a wave as Anderson opens the door and Ruby walks in, Jackson Murphy in tow.
She looks the same as when I last saw her, except a bit tanner and blonder, and her hair has grown a little. She’s wearing a long skirt and sandals and a tank top with crochet straps.
She waltzes in and smiles warmly at everyone, her face lighting the room. The murmurs swell into loud talk and speculation. Jackson’s expression is much more serious. He’s wearing a suit and he also has a briefcase. More evidence against me?
They walk to the front of the room and stand between Jared and Judge Ramsey.
I’m not sure what to expect. Is she going to be angry? But then she grins down at me.
“Are you Ruby Simpson?” Jared asks her.
“Yes.”
“Did you know this woman was impersonating you?”