Concealed Affliction (34 page)

Jesus I missed this. Missed him.

As usual I was just too stubborn to admit it.

Ryder positions himself on top of me. At the same moment the bedroom door bursts open.

“What the fuck?” Ryder curses, while trying to cover up my body.

Jimmy rushes into the room and turns on the side lamp since the sun has now set. Or maybe it’s almost morning, I don’t know.

“The cops are here to arrest you Jay. They said you have ten minutes to get downstairs.”

What the fuck?

“Do they have a warrant?”Asks Ryder, always the smart one, even while he unabashedly jumps out of bed naked and begins tugging on his clothing. Boots and all. I follow suit, a little more discreetly, and thankfully Jimmy has turned his back to give me privacy.

“Yes, they have a fucking warrant. Denny is on the phone with the lawyer and Laura is down there half-licked, doing her best to end up in the cell with you again.”

“Jesus! What the hell did I do? I thought that shit was over this morning, I don’t understand!”

Jimmy cuts me off mid rant.

“It’s not the shit with Andrew. They say it’s an assault charge.”

Ryder is long ahead of me, storming out the door and down the stairs.

“What do you mean, assault. On WHO?”

Jimmy wastes no time now that Ryder is gone, embracing me in only my jeans and bra.

“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?”