“What if she goes toprison?” James sobbed to no one in particular. “She can’t go to Rikers! She won’t go anywhere above Forty-Fifth Street!”
Ellis patted his shoulder and turned back to Anne. “Do you have the address?”
Anne pulled out her phone again and a moment later, Ellis’s pinged. “I also sent you the arresting officer’s name and badge number.”
Freddie wanted to say something. Anything. But he had no idea what. Why the hell did he feel so paralyzed? He should have helped Anne down there, or calmed James, or at least gotten Ellis’s app to work. It had all happened so quickly; his brain hadn’t had time to engage.
“You might be able to get her released tonight, but I would call a lawyer to make sure it’s all handled properly,” Anne added.
At this, Freddie perked up.
“I have an attorney,” he said, finally snapping out of his stupor and stepping forward. “I can give him a call if you need—”
Ellis shook his head. “It’s okay. We know somebody.”
“We do?” James asked, throwing his hands in the air like the question was rhetorical.
Ellis frowned. “Yeah. Glen in 2B. He’s on the co-op board.”
“But he’s a tax attorney!”
Anne cleared her throat. “James, why don’t you come home with me and—”
“No,” James cut her off, shaking his head defiantly. “I will not abandon her. What if they hurt her? What if they make her wear orange?”
“It’s fine,” Ellis said, nodding to Anne and Freddie. “You two should head home. We’ll grab a cab and head to the police station to see if we can’t get her released tonight.”
James was still lamenting every possible fate that could befall someone in an NYPD holding cell as Ellis guided him to the curb and waved down a passing taxi.
“We’ll text you when we know what’s going on!” Ellis yelled just before they climbed in the back seat. Then the car jolted forward, and turned at the corner.
Just as quickly as the chaos descended, it was gone, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to swallow up their small section of the sidewalk. Freddie turned to look at Anne just as she brought her gaze up to his, and for a moment they just stared at each other. From the nearby subway stairs he could hear a train approaching on the platform—brakes screeching, doors sliding open, an announcement to stand clear of the closing doors.
“I should head down there. Grab the next train,” she said.
Freddie let out a long breath. All the tension had left his body, and now his muscles felt like rubber. He was exhausted. “Want to share a cab? I’ve had enough of public transport for one night.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for a train and—”
“Come on. You’ll be home in half the time. It’s my treat,” he cut in.
She hesitated, then finally nodded. There was a hotel across the street and a few cabs waiting along the block. Freddie nodded to one of the drivers who was idling, then opened the back door of the car for Anne.
She slid in, sinking into the seat. Just as Freddie sat down in the other, a low moan escaped her lips.
He froze. He remembered that moan, and for a split secondhe hated his brain for conjuring up why, those moments so many years ago when he had been the one to elicit them.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I don’t normally wear heels.” She sighed, reaching down to slip her heel from her shoe. “And now I remember why.” She wiggled her other heel free and let out another moan. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes, her neck arching up and lips parting slightly the way they used to when he—
He turned away abruptly. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
“Avenue A and Ninth Street,” Freddie replied.
The cabbie nodded and turned left, heading downtown.
