Wade walks over to one of the desks and opens a drawer, then slams it closed. He opens the second one, pulls out a breathalyzer, and heads back over to me.
“That’s not necessary. I’ve already done one. She blew three times over the limit,” the rookie argues.
Wade glares at him. “Better to cross all our i’s with how things have been handled so far. It will be easier this way when IA arrives to investigate.”
If I weren’t so freaked out, I’d laugh at how pale the rookie has gone.
“Open the door,” Wade orders him. The rookie keeps protesting, so the other cop opens the door instead, holding it open so Wade can walk in. He approaches me slowly and stops with a little distance between us. “Can you stand up for me, please?” he asks me softly.
I do as he asks, but it takes me a couple of tries. My arms are still cuffed behind my back, and my legs are like jelly. I move so I’m sideways and not being blocked by Wade from the cameras that face the cell.
“She still has her cuffs on?” Wade snarls.
“She was violent,” the lying rookie replies before getting torn into by another cop. Huh. I guess they didn’t notice the cuffs with how I was sitting.
Wade pulls some keys from his pocket, which I guess must be universal ones for cuffs, and holds them up for me to see. “I’m going to take the cuffs off, and then we’ll do the test, alright?”
I nod, trying to stay calm. Everyone is on edge, and I don’t fancy getting shot today. I see the rookie with his hand on the butt of his gun and swallow as saliva pools in my mouth.
Wade must notice something on my face because he follows my stare to the rookie. “You pull that gun, and I won’t just have your badge. I’ll arrest you myself. Get him out of here, John.”
At first, I don’t know who John is, but then the guy who opened the door moves, leading a complaining rookie from the room.
Wade turns back to me. “Ready?” I nod and turn so he can uncuff me.
I jolt when I feel his hand on mine, but I don’t pull away.
“Ah, Jesus. Carl, bring me the first aid kit.” The guy Wade first spoke to gets up from his desk as I turn back around.
With my wrists free, I bring my arms in front of me, whimpering in pain when my shoulders protest. I get a look at my wrists and see where the cuffs have cut into them from being on so tightly.
“Get me the camera as well,” he orders as he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. When they answer, he keeps his eyes on me as he asks, “You get the footage?” Whatever the person on the other end says, Wade’s face turns thunderous. “Can you get copies made and bring them to the station? Thanks.”
He hangs up but doesn’t put his cell away. “With your permission, I want to take a few photos on my cell phone as well as with the digital camera.”
What the hell? I look around, knowing that’s not a procedure. When I look up at the camera, it suddenly dawns on me that Wade knows something isn’t right, and he’s making sure that the evidence doesn’t just randomly disappear.
I turn back to him, and though I feel exposed, I nod.
He isn’t invasive. He doesn’t ask me to show him any more than he can see right now, but he captures multiple shots of my wrists and face, plus my top, which is saturated with blood. Once that is done, he steps closer, holding the breathalyzer in hishand, and tells me what to do. I do exactly as he asks and blow into it until he tells me to stop.
He looks at it for a moment before his eyes slip closed, and he snaps a photo of its result. “Breathalyzer shows zero alcohol in your bloodstream.”
I hear murmurs going around the room, but I keep my eyes on Wade, feeling a tear slip over my cheek.
“You want me to call someone for you?”
I try to indicate that I want my own phone because who the hell knows anyone’s numbers? But he doesn’t get it, so I pretend to write instead.
He takes a pad and paper from the cop called Carl and hands it to me. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, and then you can write down what you need.”
I follow him out quickly, scribbling that I need my cell phone, which the rookie took. It contains my lawyer’s information, and my phone has an app that converts text-to-speech for making phone calls. I add my lawyer’s name and my full name, just in case something happens to me before I make my call. I’m about to sit where Wade indicates, and the police chief walks in.
Now, him, I definitely remember. He’s friends with the Bannerman’s and didn’t think twice about screwing me over before. I have no doubt things are about to get dicey once more.
As soon as his eyes land on mine, I brace myself. I see the shocked expression when he takes in the blood, but he gets over it quickly when he marches toward me.
“Sorrow Wells. Why am I not surprised?” When I don’t answer, I can see him getting pissed. “Take her to interrogation room four, Wade.”
