“Step forward, please.” The burly guard indicated the line he had to stand on. Far enough away so he couldn’t hurt anyone, but close enough to be subdued if needed? Like that would happen with hishands in cuffs.
“Scott Holland,” the police officer who had driven him here said. “Waterbury PD. Sexual assault, battery, and attempted rape.”
Flinching at the charges, he kept his temper under control. It sucked being treated like a criminal when he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or it might not have mattered where he’d been. He suspected this whole thing was a set up. Why the hell else would that bitch say he’d beat her? But why was he being set up? It all came back to the renovation project.
And he’d be here until Tuesday morning. More than three days. Fuck. He was supposed to be enjoying the long weekend with his cousin and friends. He’d been hoping to entice Heather to the beach with him. Seeing her in a bathing suit would be a highlight. Not that he hadn’t seen her in less. Shit. This sucked.
The guard eyed him up and down then reached behind him for some orange fabric. Oh, yay,just his color.
“Go in there, put these on. Leave your clotheson the bench.”
“Um…” He held up his cuffed hands.
“Go inside and put your hands through the door.”
Oh, there was a slot in the door. How convenient. Also a nice big window.
“No curtains for privacy,” he joked. The guard didn’t look amused. Clothes plopped in his arms then he walked inside the small enclosure. After the door closed behind him, he dropped the orange ball of fabric on the bench then stuck his hands through the slot. The cuffs were removed and he rubbed his wrists. They hadn’t been that tight but they’d still chafed a bit.
“You can keep on your socks and underwear. Leave the boots on the floor. Bang on the door when you’re done.”
As quick as he could, he shed his pants and shirt then shrugged into the orange pants and top. The material was lightweight and loose, like scrubs. He took a second to tighten the tie on the pants then turned back toward the door. As soon as he knocked the guard appeared. At least he hadn’t been staring at him while he changed.
“Hands through the door.”
He complied and the cuffs were replaced. Would he need to wear them the whole freakin’ weekend?
“Sit over there.” The guard pointed to a bench in the outer room and another guard took his boots for a thorough search of them. Were they expecting tofind a weapon?
“Putthese back on.”
No casual chatter for these guys. Once his boots were on, the guard who’d checked them put his hand out toward the back door. Big and metal, with a window in the middle, it clanked open and they stepped through. It took a few minutes of walking through long hallways then up a set of stairs to finally reach their destination.
“Orientation first.”
The room was small with a half dozen chairs on one side. He was pushed into one and his handcuffs were connected to a chain attached to the chair. As if running awaywere an option.
For the next few hours he was lectured on all the rules of the facility and what to expect. Not that he’d be allowed to roam around at all. Apparently when you were in here simply for “lock-up,” the term for the safe keep of people who hadn’t been arraigned yet, you were stuck in the cell the whole time. Yeah, he felt so fucking safe.
“Unit six,cell nineteen.”
The same guard was back, escorting him through a few more hallways and big metal doors. Each door had to be locked then unlocked as they went through. To keep him safe. Right.
“You’re in here. Meals will be delivered twice a day.”
“Do I get one tonight?” It had been midafternoon when the detectives had picked him up and he hadn’t eaten a big lunch. Although whether his stomach could handle food right now was another question entirely.
“Kitchen’s closed. You’ll get something tomorrow. There’s a sink in there if you need water.”
“Thanks.” Did he catch the deep sarcasm?
Walking into the tiny seven-by-ten-foot room, Scott sighed. Luxury accommodations. Lots of privacy. At least he didn’t have a roommate.
At the sound of the door closing, he turned.
“Handsthrough here.”
Slipping his hands through the slot, he sighed as the cuffs were removed. Apparently, he wouldn’t be wearing them all weekend.
