I don’t know why I answer it like it’s a question, but I do.
“You look like the woman on this driver’s license, and her name is Jane Anderson. Where are the kids?” another cop asks.
I tense at the mention of my kids.
Evan. This has Evan all over it.
Oh god. He’s going after them. Not because he wants them, but because it’s an easy way to get to me. They will give the kids to him while I’m locked up, and who knows what he will do to them before I get out.
When I look over at the cop who asked, I flinch at the look of disdain on his face. It’s almost as if he thinks I’m the gum on the bottom of his shoe.
Before I can even think of something to say, Mac steps in.
“She won’t be answering any of your questions. You can talk to her lawyer,” he says.
The asshole cop scoffs.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the first cop says.
I look over his shoulder and see the other two policemen looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Enough of this bullshit. Jane Anderson, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and parental alienation,” the asshole cop says as he steps forward.
My body is locked in fear as he puts the cuffs on my wrists.
I should have run. I should have left when I had the chance.
Mac steps in front of me, making me look up at him.
“Don’t say anything. Understand? I’ll be right behind you with the lawyer,” he tells me.
The asshole cop jerks on my cuffs and pushes me forward, making me walk toward his car.
I don’t even care about myself. I need to get the kids out of here. I look at Mac and beg him with my eyes to do something for the kids. Hide them and never let him get to them again. I don’t know if he sees it or not, but he nods at me.
“Stay strong, Jane,” Tank says as I pass by him.
The asshole cop pushes me into the cruiser and gets into the driver’s seat. When his partner slides into the passenger seat, he sighs.
“Was that really necessary?” his partner asks.
“She’s mentally unstable and kidnapped her kids. Of course it was necessary.” The driver scoffs.
Mentally unstable? Please, the only person I know who is unstable is the one behind this mess. Sure, I might have taken the kids and run, but it was for their own safety. I don’t say a word, though. I trust Mac.
When we get to the police station, they throw me into a cell.
“Phone call,” I say quietly.
“Please, bitches like you don’t deserve phone calls,” the asshole cop, whose name badge says Whitmore, states before he leaves me alone.
Okay then.
Taking a deep breath, I move to the bench along the wall and sit down. I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart.
Mac is on his way with a lawyer.
They didn’t read me my Miranda rights, take my fingerprints, or anything, so protocols have been broken.
