“Wait here and I’ll find the arresting officer.”
Ten minutes later, the arresting officer came walking Eshon’s way. He was a tall, well built white boy with short-cropped hair, blue eyes, and a clean shave. He was looking fine in his NYPD uniform. Eshon fixed her eyes on him, and he fixed his eyes on her.
“Officer Spielberg. You’re the one asking about Jessica?” he said.
She nodded.
“And you were at the club last night?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s talk then. Follow me,” he said.
Eshon felt a lot more nervous now. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, and the tone of his voice made it feel like there was something wrong. She followed the cop through the reception area, into the heart of the precinct and amid a sea of blue uniforms, phones ringing, and everyone busy with something. She followed him down a brick hallway and into a small, windowless room. He gestured for her to take a seat at the metal table. She did. He sat opposite of her.
“Your friend was arrested last night, early morning. She was running full speed away from an NYPD checkpoint, and when she was confronted, she put up a fight, kicking and punching a few officers in the scuffle. She’s being charged with assault and resisting arrest. She’s being processed now and will be transferred to Central Booking. But the way this day is going, no time soon,” the officer stated.
Eshon fought to remain expressionless.
He continued. “Your friend is also unruly and disruptive, and if she keeps it up, we’ll add more charges on her.”
Fuckin’ dumb bitch! Eshon thought. If Maserati Meek weren’t such a threat to them, Eshon would have left her trifling ass to rot in jail. But Jessica being locked up was a threat to them, and they had to find some way to get to her or bail her out.
Officer Spielberg had his attention transfixed on Eshon. He noticed something about her—something a little off. “Can I question you?”
Eshon didn’t want to be questioned, but she had to play nice. “Yes.”
“You were at the nightclub last night, right?”
She nodded.
“What is your name?”
“Stephanie Brown,” she lied.
“Date of birth.”
“January first, nineteen ninety-five.”
It was stupid to lie because she had no I.D. indicating that she was that person. And if he suddenly asked for proof of identification, then she was fucked! But surprisingly, he believed her, for now.
“What time did you leave the club?”
“I think an hour before the explosion. I’m not exactly sure.”
“Did you notice anyone suspicious inside?”
She shook her head no.
“Were there any bags left unattended, that you noticed somewhere?”
“I didn’t see anything. We were all having a good time.”
“When did you become concerned with your friend’s whereabouts?”
She had to play things out and keep her cool, even though she felt like a suspect all of a sudden. The way he was looking at her was disturbing. She had nothing for him, but she had to play along.
“Like I told the female officer, I left before her and was on my way home. We got separated. I got wind of the terrible incident. I called Jessica’s phone repeatedly, but no answer. I checked the hospitals, but they said she wasn’t there. I came here as a last resort.”