The cop led me to a different cruiser, and I was pushed into the backseat. Her hand covered my head until I cleared the door. Once inside, she popped into the front seat and turned up the heat. It was then that I realized how cold it was. The clock on her dashboard said it was 4:17 a.m., cold for the little clothing I was wearing. She didn’t say anything before she left again, shutting her door, and I was alone.
I was numb.
I was shocked.
I was livid.
I kept playing out the image of the cops bursting through the door. Elijah. This was his fault. No, it was mine. I should’ve listened to my brother. No. I was going back to my boyfriend. This was all his fault. Well. Check that. Ex-boyfriend now.
Hell. I was tired, too—tired and wired at the same time. My chest was moving up and down at a rapid pace. My skin was crawling, but I wanted to curl under a blanket at the same time. I understood why criminals looked crazy on those cop shows, if this was what they were feeling.
Then the cop came back and got inside. “Your name is Brielle Masterson?”
She was cold and brisk. Well, whatever. I watched those shows, too. I knew to keep my mouth shut. Plus, even though I was pissed at Elijah, I wasn’t exactly being flooded with warm feelings for these officers. It was dumb and immature, but I kept my mouth closed. That was my middle finger to her.
She turned around to face me and held up a file. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t tell us. We know who you are.”
How?
She arched an eyebrow. “We have your phone, Brielle.”
Oh. Well. Color me foolish, except—gritting my teeth—I still didn’t care.
The officer added, “Do you have any idea why we’re arresting you and Mr. Turner?”
I said nothing. I could be stubborn. My brother would testify to that. I wasn’t guilty of anything, so I wasn’t worried, or I didn’t think I should be worried. The cop kept talking, but I tuned her out and caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. I was surprised at the hard mask looking back at me. My face looked etched in stone, but there was anger boiling under the surface. Damn straight. Thanks a lot, Elijah. Wrinkling my nose, my dark hair was a mess. I hadn’t showered since the day before, so it was greasy. I reached up to smooth my hair out, at least to look a little presentable, but it was pointless. My hair had a mind of its own.
The cop was watching me with narrowed eyes. When I saw that, I turned away, and my chin rose in defiance. She sighed. I caught movement from the corner of my eye as she put the file down on the passenger seat. “Look,” she started, “I don’t know your full story. You have a juvie record, I see. Some fights when you were younger. It says you took on a group of girls. Another time you assaulted your boss at Dairy Queen.”
I snorted. The pervert thought breasts were on the menu…my breasts.
She kept going, “You are going to be processed, and you’ll be booked. You don’t have any drug-related charges. I’d hate for this to be your first one. If you cooperate, you can make it all go away.”
My gaze jerked to hers.
“Tell us what you know about Elijah’s drug circuit.” She smiled at me, though her eyes remained flat. Her tone sounded so friendly. I rolled my eyes. I grew up being poor. My mom worked the night shift, so it was Braden and myself. Our dad left when we were six, and we had to learn to fend for ourselves. We fed ourselves. We dressed ourselves. We figured out what things we needed for school. Mom tried, but she was usually a zombie. I wasn’t an idiot, and this cop wasn’t going to fool me otherwise.
She was saying, “…the more you help us, the more we can help you.”
I slumped down in the seat and took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to happen. I was now in a waiting game. Glancing out the window, I wondered how long this would take. Braden’s band played at Rowdy’s last night, so that meant they might still be there. Even if it was another hour from now, they could still be in the basement. It was where they practiced, but it was where they partied, too. I’d try Rowdy’s number when I was released. Because, you know, they’d have to release me if I wasn’t guilty.
“Fine.” The cop held up her hand in surrender. She turned back around to face the front. “I hope you’re ready for this. You’re going to be interrogated just like every other criminal we arrest.”
Except I wasn’t a criminal. They’d figure that out sooner or later. As she pulled out onto the street, I closed my eyes to try to get some sleep, or at least to calm down more. My heart was still racing. When we got to the police station, the wired feeling was fading, and the exhaustion was taking over. When I was taken into an interrogation room, I eyed the table and had visions of just lying on top of it and going to sleep.
“How long have you been dating Elijah Turner?”
Instead, this was what I got.
“Do you sell drugs for him?”
No answer.
“We know you graduated two years ago, but we know he’s got students from the high school selling for him. Is that what you do? Do you recruit students at your old high school?” She laid a file onto the table.
I closed my eyes. The questions were giving me answers, not the other way around.
“There are witness accounts placing you and Elijah at a rave last night. Drugs were sold at that rave. Your boyfriend’s drugs. If you were a part of it, come clean now. Brielle.” She gentled her tone. I opened my eyes to see a soft grin on her face. “We know a rival organization is moving in. Are you helping both sides?”