“Hey,” I shouted. “Josie!”
Josie looked across the crowd, her face landing on mine. Immediately, her eyes popped open, and she looked at the cop leading her to the police car for transport. I slapped my hands down to the side and let out a deep breath, frustration setting in. I watched as Josie approached the car, still looking over into the crowd for me.
“Hey, let me in,” I shouted to the cops. “I am her lawyer. Let me in the car with her, please.”
Every single cop turned their backs toward me, completely ignoring my request. I grunted angrily and turned, running back to my car and hopping in. As soon as I pulled up toward the house, the cop car carrying Josie sped off for the precinct. I followed closely behind, looking up at Josie as she turned and peered out of the window. Her face was incredibly calm, and I could tell whatever was going on, she knew she had to keep her emotions in check and follow along as much as possible.
When I pulled into the precinct parking lot, I watched the cop car pull around back to unload Josie into the holding cells. I walked into the front and told the clerk my client had just been brought in, and I needed a chance to speak with her. The woman looked at me like I was nuts and then told me that she needed to be processed first. She looked over my shoulder at the waiting area and nodded her head in that direction. I had no choice but to sit and wait, knowing that I would get the ability to talk to her soon. When she was done with processing, they led her back to the interrogation room, and I stayed put in the lobby, waiting for my turn.
The woman at the front desk nodded her head at me, and I walked over, smiling charmingly. She looked behind me and around the room, making sure that no one was listening. She leaned over the desk and began to whisper.
“She is done with processing, and now, they are going to ask a ton of questions,” she said. “This young lady has to invoke her right to an attorney before you can go back there. I’m sorry. There is nothing I can do about that.”
“She doesn’t even know anything about that rule,” I said with frustration. “You might as well wait for her to admit to being the tooth fairy.”
“I know,” she said. “Hopefully, she’s watched Law and Order and can pick up some cues from that.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I exclaimed. “This is total bullshit. “
“As soon as I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” she said with a sympathetic tone.
I nodded my head and smiled, grateful that at least one person in the precinct actually gave a shit about Josie. I didn’t know what made them think that she was a criminal, but I had to get her out of there. I walked back into the lobby and waited, pacing the floor as I ticked through the things in my mind. I had so many emotions flooding through my mind, from anger to sadness, to fear, and then to a gut-wrenching feeling of hopelessness. There was nothing worse than watching someone you loved get taken into a situation like this, unable to understand her rights, and put to the test by the hard-ass cops. I could already see Josie now, sitting in the interrogation room with tears flowing down her cheeks.
I took a deep breath and sat down in one of the chairs in the waiting area, starting to understand that it was going to be a long day if I didn’t do something about this. But what? I didn’t have any rights, just because I was an attorney. I really wished my father was there at that moment. He would have kicked the door in, picked up Josie, and marched out of the station, enraged at how they were treating her with no real support or representation. As a lawyer, I knew what they could do in an interrogation room, but all I could do was wait and hope that my arms would be wrapped around Josie’s body soon.
Chapter 18
Josie
“How do you know, Eliza Barber, Ms. Gray?”
The police were interrogating me, and they had been for many hours. I was exhausted, and the only thing they offered me was a cup of coffee. Everyone looked at me so angrily, as if they were positive that I was a cold-blooded killer. I was terrified of every person that came into the room. It was like a crime drama show. There were people pretending to be nice, people pretending to be assholes, and others that just asked direct questions, wrote something down, and left.
I had no clue what was going on, but I didn’t want to incriminate myself, so I just denied every allegation they threw at me. In reality, I wasn’t lying. I really had no idea what these detectives were talking about. They threw pictures of a dead woman in front of me, witness testimony of seeing a girl that fit my description, and told me that they had evidence that I was the murderer.
I shook my head when I first heard that. There was no way they could have evidence on me. Obviously, I hadn’t killed anyone. Well, it was obvious to me, not so much to the cops who kept grilling me. After I denied any connection to the murder, the female detective left the room and then came back carrying two plastic evidence bags in her hand. She tossed them down on the table in front of me and looked at my face. One bag held a large knife, and the other one contained a bloody, ripped up shirt. I shook my head and looked at her confused.
“We found that knife, the murder weapon, wrapped in that shirt, the victim’s shirt, in your trash can,” she said.
“That’s impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t know that woman. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t know how that got there, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Come on, Josie,” the woman said, sitting down in the chair across from me. “Your only alibi witness is your father, and he’s nowhere to be found. There is testimony from other eyewitnesses placing you, or someone that looks like you, at the scene of the crime. We found the murder weapon wrapped in the victim’s shirt in your trash can. Do you really expect us to believe that you’re innocent?”
“Yes,” I said with exasperation. “Doesn’t that seem awfully convenient to you? Besides, the witness saw someone with dark hair from the top of floor of an apartment building across the street. There was no way they could ID me as that person, and the reason for that is because I didn’t fucking do it!”
“Look,” she said, putting her hands in her lap. “Just confess. Tell us everything, and we will ask the prosecutor for leniency. You understand that when we take you to court, the district attorney is going to seek the maximum sentence if you don’t cooperate. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, and sweetheart, those girls are a lot tougher than your victim. You won’t last long in there at all.”
I crossed my arms and looked away, growing tired of being called a murderer. I knew how the evidence looked, but I didn’t do it. I wasn’t going to confess to a crime that I didn?
??t commit. I knew the deal was that I take the fall for this murder. I knew that when Paulie and Harry got wind that I was refusing to claim that I was guilty, they would probably go after my father if they hadn’t already done so, but this was serious. I had given my life to my father for the last twenty years, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of it behind bars because he couldn’t get his shit together. I could tell the detectives about Paulie and Harry, but then what? They would research it, find them, and those gangster assholes would refuse to admit it. Then they would kill my father anyway. I was pretty much stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Fine,” she said, slamming her hands on the table and startling me from my thoughts. “We’ll do it your way. I hope you understand that when we go into that courtroom, we are going for the win. We’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars.”
The detective grabbed the bags and looked at me one last time before walking out of the interrogation room. She slammed the door behind her, and I jumped, still completely terrified of every sound. All I could do at that point was stay silent, no matter who came into the room. I had said my piece and didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have it twisted in court. I was innocent, and I was being set up by the mob. It was like a bad cop drama, only I was the innocent one, and the cops were doing everything they could to pin it on me, just like Harry and Paulie. I just wished it would all go away, like a bad dream.
Several hours later, and a dozen detectives later, one of the cops came in and grabbed me by the arm, lifting me from the chair and escorting me back to the holding cells. He took off my cuffs and shoved me into the empty room. I rubbed my wrists and looked over my shoulder, waiting for him to leave. I walked over to my bed and curled up in a ball, wrapping my arms around my body. It was so cold in there, and the orange jumpsuit they had put me in was thin. Tears began to pour out of my eyes as I laid there, shivering, and I muffled the sound of my sobs so I didn’t alert the other inmates. They had already ruthlessly teased me like I was fresh bait when I walked in. Then, as if it were a dream itself, my tears went silent, and I heard a familiar voice. I sat up quickly and looked around, my eyes falling on Blaine, standing at my cell with a sad face.
“Blaine,” I cried out, running to the bars and sticking my hands through for him to hold.