37.
Jamal
They put us in the same cell, because why not? We were powerless as normal people, me probably even more so than my brother, who still had the physique from his football days. It was dark, only one working light for illumination, and the walls were poured concrete, the kind that might have stopped me even if I’d had my meta strength. Not a single power socket, not that it mattered without my powers, and I’d lost my phone.
Which was everything.
I was wearing an orange jumpsuit for the first time in my life. So was Augustus, and by his silence, he was taking it just as hard as I was.
“Bet you didn’t think us trying to prove Sienna’s innocence was gonna end in us …” I whispered, acutely aware that without meta hearing, we couldn’t speak meta-low, and thus avoid the microphones that were surely listening in in hopes we’d incriminate ourselves.
“In jail ourselves?” Augustus asked, voice dead. “Naw. I didn’t see that coming. I’d call it delicious irony, but I’m kinda choking on it at the moment.”
“I hear that,” I said, ass glued to my cot. It was uncomfortable, but it was something to sit on. And at least we didn’t have company in here. They probably figured we were more likely to discuss our recent spate of crimes among ourselves if we were alone. I was a little insulted at how little they thought of our combined brainpower, and I could tell Augustus wasn’t any more disposed to chatting about criminal activity than I was. I raised my voice, figuring I’d deliver again the same message I’d been shouting since we got here, “Yo, I want my lawyer!” It echoed in the small space, but once again, no answer came.
“We ain’t even got a lawyer, bro,” Augustus said, head against the concrete wall, staring out toward me. Our cots were on either side of the square room, up against the walls. He was facing me, I was facing him. And we were still trying to do everything we could not to look at each other, probably because it’d just reinforce the reality of the situation.
“I honestly thought …” I let my voice trail off.
Augustus’s eyes met mine for a moment, and we understood each other. “You figured once we got out of the Bluff … we were done having to worry about ending up in jail, am I right?”
I nodded slowly. My eyes were burning a little, but I didn’t want to show it.
“You can take the boys outta the hood …” Augustus said, dark amusement laced with a little acrimony.
I didn’t have anything to say to that. What could I say to that? He’d nailed it; I thought we were free and clear of this shit. Even me, despite what I’d done.
But no. Here we were, trying to help a friend, and end up stumbling our dumb asses into a good old-fashioned frame-up. Fresh meat for the grinder.
Augustus shoved off the wall, standing, and moved over to me, plopping down next to me on my cot, pushing his face up to my ear, presumably to defeat the microphones. “What have they got on us, you think?”
I thought about it a second, then moved my lips up to his ear and matched his low whisper, cupping around my mouth so it’d mute the sound and letting out my breath before speaking so it’d help keep me from hissing. “The anonymous tips. The cameras put us at the scene. Local towers pinged our cell phones at that location. And we were the last to meet Spiegel before Custis—before he died. So they’ve got a lot.”
“Circumstantial,” Augustus said, twisting to speak into my ear, taking the same precautions.
“We had the means—or so they’ll say,” I whispered back, “we had the opportunity, because we were there and you had the powers.”
“What about the motive?” he asked, still keeping low.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. If they have a record of our talk with Spiegel, they can probably come up with something. It wasn’t exactly a polite chat, y’know?”
He nodded. “This is the thing I don’t get, though … unless they got something else major, can they even tie this to us? I mean, really, in court?”
I licked my lips, not really happy with how I had to answer this. “Maybe. They could switch evidence easy, with their access and powers. Put a real boulder in place of the murder weapon. Do some digital touchups to conversations to make things sound worse. Be tough for anyone to prove, you know? Because they got the power to erase any digital fingerprints at the 1’s and 0’s level. But even if they don’t …”
“What?” he asked.
“Think about it,” I said, still whispering, still blocking around his ear to keep my words muffled, for him only. “Court cases take years to settle out. And during that time, let’s say we ran across the evidence we were looking for …” I could see my brother tense. “Who’s going to believe it if it comes from—”
“Two dudes on trial for murder,” Augustus finished, sounding as sour as a lemon head. “This wasn’t just a frame—this was an execution of our credibility.” He sagged and leaned back, head against the wall on my bunk now, like he didn’t have the will to fight anymore, not even enough to make it back to his own.
I nodded, and pulled away from his ear, settling back next to my brother. “Yep. Now … we’re out of the game.”