Stella

The last few hours of my life seemed to play out like some kind of bad movie I never wanted to star in. I felt numb, drunk almost. Only bits and pieces stuck out. The fluorescent lights buzzed, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The room was cold, bright, bleak. It smelled of bleach and body odor. The booking officer took down my information. P. Gianetti, her nameplate read. She was short, stout, solid. Over and over I told her and anyone within earshot this was a mistake. But they’d heard all of this before. Of course, everyone said that. P. Gianetti rolled my fingers in sticky ink and took my fingerprints. She handed me a rough paper towel to wash off the dye but the stain wouldn’t quite come out. She led me to an X taped to the floor and told me to look straight ahead. A quick camera flash that blinded me and she told me to turn to the left, then to the right as she completed my mug shots.

Mug shots. What the hell was happening?

“What are they charging me with? I’m not sure I understand.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. Plus, I knew better. It wasn’t the type of advice you ever think you’re going to have to use, but the less I said the better. These people were just doing their jobs. I knew that. But right now, no one here was on my side. I was just another probable criminal to be processed into the system. These were thankless jobs. Not glamorous. Dangerous, even. And right now, I was nobody.

When they took me to a holding cell the muscles in my legs stopped working. God. Chipped yellow paint. Cold metal benches along the wall.

“You’re lucky,” Officer Gianetti said. She had her brown hair pulled back into a severe bun. She had deep lines on her face and a strong grip as she pulled open the cell door. “Quiet night. That’s Bernice. She probably won’t wake up for a few hours.”

Bernice slept on her back on one of the benches. Her forearm rested across her face, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the overhead lights. I took the bench on the opposite side of the wall. As Officer Gianetti slid the cell door shut I gave her a pleading look.

“You’ll be able to make a call soon, honey,” she said. Honey. Just that one word turned my insides to gelatin. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back tears. They’d give way to hysteria if I wasn't careful.

I drew my knees up under my chin and hugged myself. Bernice snored and stirred, but she didn’t wake up. Part of me wished she would. The distraction of a conversation might do me good. Right about then, I needed something to ground me. Some lifeline to yank myself away from the madness of this situation. I had to sort out my next step. Who would I call? A lawyer. You’re supposed to call a lawyer. Except the only one I knew just did wills and estate planning. Well, at least it was a start.

I don’t know how long they kept me there. Hours had passed since the officer pulled me over just past Tyler Smith’s house. It had to be five o’clock. God, even if I was able to get a hold of the one lawyer I knew, she probably wasn’t in her office anymore. My parents in Florida wouldn’t be able to do much for me there and I saw no point in scaring them until I had a better handle on what the hell was happening. God, what was happening? Would I have to spend the night in here?

I heard a commotion down the hall. I guessed an unruly inmate had been brought in. Bernice stirred again, shifting to her side, facing away from me. I sort of envied her ability to tune completely out at the same time I felt bad for her. What had gone wrong in her life that she felt comfortable enough to sleep so deeply in a county jail holding cell? I just prayed that whoever they brought through wouldn’t become my new cellmate. I didn’t think my luck could hold out that she’d be as complacent as Bernice. Bernice let out a grunting snore as if to punctuate my thought.

“Where? Down here?” A male voice. Commanding. Authoritative. Loud footsteps across the marble floor. My heart seemed to jump start all over again. I almost couldn’t breathe. I let my legs fall to the floor and sat with my back against the wall, my hands beneath my knees. His silhouette seemed to fill the space on the other side of those bars.

Mitch.

My spine turned to water. I shielded my eyes with my hand. God, he looked so tall. So strong. Officer Gianetti stood beside him, glaring up at him with a scowl on her face.

“Interview room three is open,” she said. “For now, anyway. You can talk in there.”

Jangling her keys, she motioned for me to come forward. “You’ll need to put your back against the bars and slide your wrists through this opening.” She pointed to a small rectangular cutout in the bars. I knew what she meant to do. Again, that rational corner of my brain told me it was for her safety. She couldn’t risk letting inmates just walk around without being cuffed. But God. She was going to cuff me in front of Mitch. The second I thought it, I caught sight of the pain reflected in his own eyes. He remained perfectly still but his whole body seemed coiled with kinetic energy. Like a tiger just before it made its deadly leap and caught its prey. This might actually be causing him more distress than it was me. Knowing that freed me a little bit. Gave me something to do. I had to manage Mitch. It would be okay.

“Hey,” I said, jerking my chin at him. “We’ll get this figured out, okay?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes flashed. I did what Officer Gianetti told me and slid my hands through the bars. She cuffed me again, then opened the door to let me out. She kept a hand on my upper arm and led me down the hall with Mitch. He stood beside me, tall, strong, like a moving mountain. We stopped at a gray metal door with a small window cut out.

When she opened it, it looked like every interview room you see on television. A long metal table and chairs. Blazing overhead lights. Two metal loops at the center of the table. Gianetti pointed to one of the chairs and told me to sit. She had a chain in her hand and meant to thread the cuffs through the loops.

“Pam, take those off her, for God’s sake. I’m going to be in here with her.”

“Look, Gates, I get that this isn’t to your liking. But I’ve bent about sixteen rules for you as it is. Don’t push your luck. You might not give a shit about your job, but I care about mine. Now, you can stay in here as long as you like, but the cuffs stay on. And don’t make me out to be the asshole in this scenario because in your right mind, you know I’m not. We good?”

Mitch let out a grumble that sounded part grizzly bear, but he gave Gianetti a quick nod and let her thread the chain through the loops. Once I sat, I was more or less comfortable, even able to scratch my nose if I needed. I gave Mitch a weak smile as he turned a chair and sat on it backward next to me. A look passed between him and the officer, and she shrugged and walked out the door.

Then he touched me.

His hands were broad, strong, and warm and he gently placed them over mine and the cold, hard metal of the handcuffs.

“Jesus, Stella,” he said, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to try so hard to get my attention.”

A beat passed. Then another. Then I couldn’t help it, I dropped my head and laughed. I laughed so hard my sides started to ache. Mitch laughed with me and pressed his forehead against mine. He smelled good. Crisp and clean with that hint of male musk and spice. He rubbed my wrists beneath the metal and it felt like heaven.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

I looked toward the ceiling and shook my head. “I don’t even know what I am. Is this a joke?”

“Has anyone been in here to interview you? Have you talked to anyone?”

“You mean other than you? No. Are you here to coerce a confession out of me, Detective Gates?”

He narrowed his eyes at me then shot me a devastating smirk. “Not funny.”

“No. Actually everyone’s been relatively nice to me considering they all think I’m some sort of drug kingpin or whatever the hell it is they think I did.”

Mitch cast a glance toward the mirror on one wall. He pointed toward it and then looked back at me. Of course, we weren’t alone. Or maybe we were, but this room wasn’t private by any means. A small stab of fear went through me at the thought that maybe Mitch really was here on someone else’s behalf. Then he looked at me again, lowered his chin, and warmth flooded through me. I realized I wasn’t alone. No matter what happened over the next few hours, he wouldn’t let me face it by myself. That made all the difference. My shoulders sagged and I rested my head on the table and over Mitch’s hands. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said and it nearly broke me. I hadn’t realized until just that moment how badly I wanted someone to tell me that. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Lifting my head, I nodded. The beginnings of a tear started at the corner of my left eye and I quickly smoothed it away with the back of my hand. The chains rattled and Mitch moved his chair closer to mine.

“What happens next? Can you get me out of here?”

He let out a hard breath and my heart sank. “I’ve gotten hold of a criminal defense lawyer I trust. He’s working on getting you a bail hearing as quick as possible. But it’s after six and we probably won’t be able to get you in front of a judge until morning. And it’s further complicated by the fact the warrants that popped for you are out of state. Have they told you anything about it?”

I shook my head. “You know, I’m not an idiot. I’m educated. Capable. But the last few hours have just kind of been a blur. I feel about eleven years old.”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you through this. It’s drug charges mostly. Felony possession with intent to sell. There’s a Nevada and New Mexico warrant. The judge here is going to have to decide whether or not to extradite you over there to face those charges or let you go on bail.”

“Oh God, Mitch! Do I have to spend the night in this place?”

“Stella, look at me. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to stay right here with you. You’re not going back to that holding cell. We’re going to hang out right here. I’ll have dinner brought in and it’s going to be fine. A little uncomfortable maybe, but fine. It’ll be you and me. That’s all.”

I nodded. He held my hands in his and I gripped him hard. He ran a thumb along the pad of my right hand, sending a shiver down my spine. He was strong, solid, and here.

“Do they understand that this is a mistake? Those warrants, the criminal background. They know it’s not me, right?”

Mitch shrugged. “Well, that’s going to take some doing. And we will do it. Okay? Don’t worry. I’ll know more after my lawyer friend sorts through the paperwork. But we’ll get you out of this mess.”

“But how? Mitch. What happened?”

Mitch looked at the mirror and back at me. I understood. He had an answer for me, but not one he felt comfortable explaining in detail until we were alone. I nodded slowly, letting him know he didn’t have to say anymore. Except I was going crazy without the answers I needed.

“Just hang in there,” he said. “And I know that’s probably the most frustrating thing to be told. But, Stella, this is just a hiccup. Okay? A really fucking awful one, but I bet a year from now we will look back on this and laugh.”

I shook my head. “Very funny. And you better be right or I might just have to kick your ass.”

“Look, we might be in here a while together. Are you hungry? I’ll have them order in some pizza.”

“Yeah. I suppose I should be starving.”

“Good.” Mitch was on his feet. He crossed the room and pounded on the door. Officer Gianetti opened it a crack and he stepped outside after giving me a reassuring look. But when the door closed behind him, cold fingers of panic snaked up my spine. I hadn’t realized how scared I was being alone here until Mitch walked in. I hated that I needed him so much. Hated feeling helpless and out of control. But I was. And Mitch was the lifeline I craved.

I pressed my thumbs against my lids and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. He was right. This was a hiccup. Someone had stolen my identity or someone had made a horrible mistake, but these were fixable problems. This was a temporary nightmare. I just wondered how much damage might already be done. I’d already earned the undeserved scorn of one school principal. Judy Smith was another. I could explain to her what happened, but I suspected she’d assume some part of this had to be my fault. If any of her neighbors had seen me this morning too, it wouldn’t really matter what I told her. She’d never have me back. And Tyler. God. My stomach dropped. He’d be more forgiving than his mother, but it wouldn’t matter. He’d just know I was never coming back.

As I waited for Mitch, I bit back the fear rising in my chest again. I could come back from this. I had to come back from this. Six months ago, I’d tortured myself wondering if a move back to Northpointe was the right thing to do. But it all just felt like fate pulling me in this direction. The job opportunity at Collingwood. Brian’s anniversary. The perfect house I found on Drummond Road. But now, everything was falling apart. I felt stuck in quicksand and sinking fast. If I didn’t find a way to pull myself out, I’d lose everything.

The door opened and Mitch shot me a dazzling smile as he held a box of pizza in one hand, two paper cups and a can of pop in the other. His words skittered over my skin, warming me. They were like the rope pulling me out of the quicksand.

“I was afraid you weren’t going to come back,” I said. I meant it as a joke. But Mitch’s eyes flickered and his smile faltered.

“Not a chance,” he said, his expression solemn. “Don’t you remember me promising you something ten years ago?”

My heart dropped. I remembered. At the darkest hour of my life, it was Mitch who stood beside me, his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me up. And here he was again. Impossibly strong. Flawed just like I was. But he was here. I smiled and let out the first easy breath I’d taken all day.

“I remember,” I said. “And that better be pepperoni or they can add assault to my list of charges.” I shot him a wink as he sat down beside me and opened the box.