Concealed Affliction

by Harlow Stone

  “I don’t fucking know Jay, they said some woman came into the station and said you assaulted her. And the only reason she knew it was you is because the goddamn local news website already posted a picture of you, saying you were back in town for questioning regarding the Roberts case.”

  “Who the hell would recognize me now, Jimmy? Unless they knew me before?”

  “I don’t fucking know. Finish getting dressed and I’ll bring up whatever the hell it is she saw on the website.”

  I find my shirt on the floor and head to my suitcase for socks and boots.

  “Here.”

  Jimmy shoves the tablet in my hands and there I am, me, many months ago. The photo is a close up of me and I don’t mistake the background. I recognize the Italian place where I used to get my favorite dinners from in Indianapolis. It doesn’t take long for me to know someone was following me, and it wasn’t Shawn.

  William fucking Becker.

  I recognize my still shiny face from sweat after I left Brock and Ryder at the gym. This is just more proof of how much he wants Ryder, and how much he wants me out of the picture. It also means I wasn’t a fool all those times my paranoia kicked in. I should’ve listened to my instincts better.

  Ryder chooses this moment to come back into the room.

  “This is fucking bullshit, I’m not sure why that fuck Braumer has it out for you so bad but-”

  I cut him off.

  “It’s not Braumer.”

  I move to shove the tablet toward him.

  “He’s downstairs Elle, it fucking is!”

  “Look!”

  He finally glances down at the photo, clearly not seeing what I am.

  “That photo was taken the night I left you and Brock at the gym. Not too long before Becker called and summoned you back to Chicago. That’s where I got the Italian food that night.”

  I’ve never seen Ryder so mad when he tosses the tablet onto the bed and follows it through with a punch to the wall.

  “Jesus FUCK! WHY! WHY CAN’T HE LEAVE YOU THE FUCK ALONE?”

  I walk up and place my hands on his back, then wrapping my arms around his torso.

  “Because he wants you, but not as much as I do.”

  I place a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turns me around in his arms and forces his mouth onto mine. Squeezing me so tight I don’t think I could breathe if I tried.

  “I can’t stop them right now, babe. I can’t. I don’t know how they got so much, so fucking fast. Well I do know, it’s Becker. But still. This is too fast, they have too much help. And I can’t fucking help you right now unless I haul you out the fire escape and hope we’re quicker. Fuck babe!”

  I grab onto his face with both hands, oddly feeling like I’m the strong one here.

  “It’s bullshit, and I have all of you here to vouch for me. Patrov will get me out. Everything will be okay.”

  I place another kiss on his lips before I hear the pounding of footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “I’ll do everything I can. Stay strong babe.”

  I let go of the man who has become my world and walk into the hallway where the officers will be at any moment.

  A young rookie cop is who I see first. Behind him is Braumer who’s failing at trying to hide a grin.

  “Ms. O’Connor, you have the right to remain silent-”

  I cut the prick off. “I know the Miranda Rights spiel, no need to waste your breath. Sorry I took so long getting dressed but I was asleep. Now, I’ll gladly follow you fellas down so we can get this misunderstanding taken care of.”

  Braumer gives a sick shake of his head before addressing his little deputy.

  “Rookie, what do we do when we apprehend someone being charged for assault, who’s presumably armed and-or dangerous?”

  “We use force if needed Sir, and we use cuffs to ensure our own safety.”

  Braumer pats him on the back. “That’s right boy. Now although Ms. O’Connor is cooperating, I think it’s a wise decision to cuff her seeing as she has a history of violence. As with any repeat offender, this is procedure.”

  I scoff at him. “Repeat offender? Are you kidding me?”

  “Rookie, do as you’re told and escort Ms. O’Connor down to the car.”

  I can tell the rookie feels out of place and uncomfortable, and clearly doesn’t want to cuff me. I take a few deep breaths, hoping I don't lose my shit when I feel my arms pulled behind my back. Andrew never pulled them behind, only above. But it still freaks me out.

  He makes a motion for me to turn and face the wall, and I do, all the while listening to Denny bark on his phone, Ryder bitch to Braumer and Jimmy telling the young rookie not to harm a hair on my head.

  I breathe in and out, over and over as my arms are pulled behind my back, albeit gently. The cool metal of the cuffs settle on my wrist bones. I picture myself somewhere else, away from here, on a beach, in North Carolina where it’s just me, my dog, the water and my handsome neighbor. I replay those images over and over and over again in my mind while trying not to hyperventilate.

  I hear voices, but they’re muffled. I feel my feet moving, but don’t remember telling them to. I feel foreign hands on my arms and a hand on my head as I’m lowered into the car. I keep my eyes closed and keep the happy memory playing. All of it on a never ending loop.

  * * *

  I don’t look down. I look up, trying to portray the strong woman they think I am, but deep inside I’m breaking. I’m led through the same doors, taken down the same hallway and finally pushed toward the end. Braumer holds one arm like I could run, while the lowly rookie trails beside me with a hand placed loosely for support. At the end of the hallway I push left to head toward the cells when Braumer pulls me right. I shake my head frantically which seems to make him happier. He tugs again.

  I don’t think, I just drop to my knees.

  I will not go down there.

  I cannot go down there.

  I can’t.

  I won’t.

  I’ll die.

  “Top cells are almost at full capacity and since the one you were in last night hasn’t been cleaned we need to put you down here so that can be done. We also don’t want you harming anyone else.”

  I remain a deadweight, screaming in my head. Hell, maybe I’m screaming out loud. I don’t know. I have no idea. There’s no one else in the hallway aside from the three of us. I don’t let that stop me.

  “No Basement! NOOOOOO!”

  “Use force if needed son! You’re in charge here and we need to get her down there.”

  “Sir, I’m pretty sure Bates cleaned out the cell already, I’ll go check.”

  He doesn’t wait for Braumer to answer. I don’t begin to cooperate. I curl up in a ball with my hands restrained behind my back, refusing to go down those stairs.

  “Get up! Get the fuck up and go down those steps!”

  I don’t speak back, because I can’t. I don’t fight back when he forcefully grabs my arm and drags me down the first few steps. I don’t kick him because I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. I just remain limp, allowing my forehead to bounce off the steps as he tries to get me down them, wishing I could stop the shakes that are taking over and hoping to hell I don’t vomit all over myself.

  “It’s clean, Sir!”

  I breathe out a silent sigh of relief and tell myself one day I will make this bastard cop pay for the way he has treated me. I also waste no time in rising on shaky limbs to accommodate the rookie who’s now helping me to a much nicer area of the station—one above ground.

  I don’t listen to anymore words I hear coming out of Braumer’s mouth. I don’t thank the rookie even though I want to. I move as quickly and quietly as I can toward the cell and let him deposit me inside. There are only two people in the cell with benches. The one with beds is empty. I wish plenty of evil karma on Braumer as the cuffs are taken off my wrists and I dive for the toilet.

  I don’t make it in time. Half of my sickness ends up on
my jeans before I finally get my head over the toilet. I pay it no mind as I empty everything into the bowl I haven’t eaten in the past two days. I rinse my mouth out in the sink, and do my best with the toilet paper and water to get it off my jeans, then I crawl onto the bed and curl up in the fetal position.

  Back to the wall.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “O’Connor, your lawyer is here. O’Connor! Wake up!”

  I slowly come to, not that I’m sure I was actually asleep. I see the same guard who was here last night, or maybe that was the night before? I have no idea.

  I sit up on the bed and wait to be escorted from my cell, only this time it opens, and the guard steps aside for Andrei Patrov to enter.

  “What in the hell happened to you?”

  Andrei doesn’t waste a moment and is on his knees in front of me. Not at all grossed out as I sit a once semi-sophisticated thirty-year-old woman half-covered in vomit and most likely bruised judging by the way he looks at my arms and head.

  I follow the path his eyes took and confirm that I do in fact have multiple finger mark bruises on my arms. I have no idea what my head looks like because I don’t have a mirror.

  “Talk to me, what happened? We have thirty minutes before we need to leave for court.”

  “Court?”

  He rests a hand gently on my arm.

  “Your bail hearing. You’re entitled to one.”

  I’m so tired. I slowly shake my head, closing my eyes when I realize how much of a headache that small movement causes.

  “I don’t know why I’m here, Andrei. Other than Becker and maybe Braumer. Why?”

  “A woman came in and said you assaulted her the other night. Not the night you were at the cemetery, the night before that. You were with Jimmy, but because he’s a close friend and only one person his statement may not be enough. This woman has bruises on her face, says that you attacked her while she was jogging, blamed her for something or other.”

  “What? Who? I don’t understand Andrei.”

  “She claims she used to date Andrew Roberts and you attacked her out of jealously.”

  “What! I don’t know anyone he was with, he tried to kill me. Why-”

  He holds his hand in front of my face.

  “I know, it’s bullshit. Which is what I will go in there and prove. I had Ryder bring you a change of clothes. We’ll go and change quickly once you tell me why you look the way you do.”

  I take a cleansing breath of air and tell Andrei what happened when I was brought here, not being able to help the trembling in my voice. He curses a few times and types something out on his phone before we leave the cell and head toward the bathroom.

  * * *

  “What the fuck!”

  This is the first thing I hear when I enter the courtroom, dressed in cleaner clothes. Ryder gave Andrei a three-quarter sleeve loose grey top and black tights. Not that I had any courtroom clothes in my suitcase, and apparently Andrei thought it better to show the marks on my body as evidence to what has been done in the past.

  I hate it, I feel naked. But I also know I wouldn't have been allowed to wear my cuffs and scarf along with the rest of my armor in the courtroom. Least of all my knife packed boots. So here I stand, in the short sleeve but long peasant top and tights with gladiator sandals.

  The judge is not in the room yet, which I’m thankful for, and I allow Ryder to assess the bruises I now know that are on my forehead and temple (courtesy of the mirror in the washroom). I watch him take in the finger mark bruises on my arms.

  “All will be taken care of, Callaghan,” Patrov assures him.

  The judge begins his grand entrance into the courtroom and we all take our seats.

  I listen to the beginnings of my bail hearing, someone saying I should not be granted bail because I’m a flight risk. I have too much money and not enough ties to the community. I listen to Andrei bicker back and forth about police brutality. I half listen, knowing there’s nothing I can do to help myself.

  ‘Speak only when spoken to’, Andrei had warned me.

  So here I sit, quietly.

  My ears perk up when Miller enters the room.

  “Your Honor, if I may?”

  He seems put out by the kind officer’s request, but grants him regardless.

  “I have personally contacted Special Investigations in regard to Detective Braumer’s conduct in the police service. I have many men behind me who agree his actions aren’t justified, nor are they condoned. This is not the first instance and I’m sure it will not be the last where his fellow officers have witnessed his ill behavior.

  “In the instance of last night when Ms. O’Connor was brought into custody, the rookie involved also noted that Detective Braumer used more force than necessary. From this point forward, in fact, as of twenty minutes ago, Detective Braumer is once again on leave from the department pending further investigation.

  “I ask that you take this into account before you make your ruling today, and discredit any information that has been given to you by the detective.”

  I thank all that is holy as I listen to Miller, wishing this would’ve happened before I rolled into town. I wondered and was a little upset that Miller wasn’t there for me last night, but obviously he was busy with bigger and better things.

  “I will take your words into account, Detective Miller. However I have been in the courtroom for a long time. I have seen a lot of justice done at the hands of Detective Braumer. I will also remind you that we are not in this courtroom today because of the actions of one detective. We are here because of the actions of one woman. A woman who has not fully been cleared from a previous murder investigation involving two men. And while that may be unsolved, and she may potentially be innocent, we need to remember that she is here because of an assault charge on the ex-girlfriend of the deceased from a previous crime no less.

  “While you may be concerned with the detective’s motives, I see plain as day a continuation for aggressive behavior. Ms. O’Connor did not stick around before and I don’t suspect she will stick around now.”

  Andrei stands up to address the judge at this.

  “All due respect, your Honor. My client was in hiding from a killer who is still out to get her. Kill her, more accurately. Evidence being-”

  “That is neither here, nor there, councilor. We are here on an assault charge and we will focus on that. Ms. O’Connor, I believe Detective Braumer and the counsel are correct. You are a flight risk; you have too much money to be left on your own. I would freeze your accounts and let you stay with a friend but I do not believe that that will stop you, given your history of assumed violence and fleeing the country. You are hereby remanded into custody and you will have a chance to plead your case again in four days time. We will resume on Tuesday at ten a.m. Court is adjourned.”

  I don’t hear the profanity.

  I don’t feel the hands pulling at my arms.

  I don’t recall the look of disgust on the judge’s face like I deserved the marks that are on my body.

  I only hear the sound of the gavel that lands heavily on the hard wood.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Take off your clothes and set them in the bin.”

  I follow the female guard’s instructions, thankful that she sounds professional. I strip off what I was sent here in, all the way down to my birthday suit. She’s done this before and I tell myself this is just procedure, this is just what needs to be done.

  I remain silent through this new routine, taking the clothes she gives me after the pat down. I feel her hands slow when they move over the raised ridges on my skin. I don’t speak or dwell on it as I follow her through a series of rooms. If you could call them that, being as they’re not really separated and provide no privacy.

  I’m issued a towel and a toothbrush, a pair of canvas shoes and scratchy bed linens. I don’t speak back, but I respond when spoken to. I show no disrespect because they’ve not done anything to warrant it yet. These peo
ple are here doing their job and they didn’t do anything to put me in this place.

  I’ve noticed a few male guards. I avoid eye contact and stay close to the female guard. I follow her through another series of bars before she leaves me in front of cell number D13.

  The door opens and she puts me inside, telling me when check times are, when I will be fed and a series of other shit I pay little attention to. I nod my head in silent thanks before she leaves the room.