Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons
Page 46

Fresh tears welled in my eyes and my throat closed up when I realized I wasn’t going to go to Little Rock for the weekend. What would Joe think when I didn’t show up?
In the end, there was only one person to call.
She answered on the second ring, hesitation in her voice. I could only imagine what she expected based on Fenton County Jail showing up on caller ID. “Hello?”
“Violet.” My voice was muffled with my tears.
“Rose?” Panic laced her words. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“No, Violet.” I was crying harder and I forced myself to calm down so Violet could understand me. “I’m going…to jail.”
“Jail? What on Earth for?”
“For contempt…of court.”
“What? How is that possible? Did you have a vision and blurt it out?”
“No. That’s not it.” I gulped back the sobs about to break free. “I was investigating the case.”
“You what?”
“I was invest—”
“Oh, I heard what you said. I’m just not believing it.”
“Violet, it’s true. Can you call Deanna?”
I heard her sharp intake of breath. “This is all his fault.”
“Bruce Wayne Decker’s?”
“Who in the world is that? No. Joe McAllister. Joe Simmons. Whatever his name happens to be this week. Who can trust a man whose name’s always changing?”
My mouth dropped open. She was choosing now to go into this? “Violet, you’ve got it all wrong. Joe had nothing to do with this.”
“Of course, you’re defendin’ him. You take his side over mine even after this.”
“Violet, I have no earthly idea what you’re sayin’. Can we please talk about this later? I don’t have much time.”
“What do you mean you don’t have much time?” Her breath came in short gasps. “Oh, my Lord! They’re executing you for investigating a case?”
“No! Violet, please! I need you to call Deanna.”
“Surely they won’t execute you today!”
“No one’s getting executed!” I shouted in exasperation. “I’m runnin’ out of time on my phone call. Violet, listen to me! I need you to call Deanna.”
“Oh.” She seemed to have regained her wits. “I’ll call her right away.”
“And then I need you to call Joe. Otherwise, he won’t know what happened, and he’ll worry himself sick when I don’t show up or answer my cell phone.”
“You expect me to call that man after what he’s done to you?”
“Violet! He hasn’t done anything to me. He wasn’t part of this at all. Please, Violet. I need you to do this for me.”
The guard pointed to his watch. “Time’s up.”
“I have to go. Please take care of Muffy. I’m gonna be in here for thirty days.”
“What? Thirty days? I’m calling Deanna right way. She’ll get you out.”
“And call Joe.”
“No, that man deserves—”
The phone went dead and I looked up at the guard in horror.
He shrugged. “I warned you.”
As he marched me to my cell, my dismay that Joe wouldn’t know what happened to me almost overwhelmed my fear of getting locked up. What would he do?
The guard stopped in front of a room with bars across the front and slid the door open. “Here’s where you’ll be staying.”
I stood in the entrance, my feet to be glued to the floor. Thankfully, the jail cell wasn’t as dingy as I expected. It held a cot and a toilet. But there weren’t any windows and three of the walls were a light gray concrete. I wasn’t sure how’d I survive five days in there, let alone thirty.
“How am I supposed to go to the bathroom?” I pointed to the toilet. “There’s no doors.”
The guard laughed. “You’ll figure it out.” He put his hand on my back and gave me a small push.
My feet dug in and I resisted. “There’s been a terrible mistake.”
“The only mistake I heard about was you deciding to play detective when your job was supposed to be juror.”
I couldn’t argue with that, and I also couldn’t resist his firm push. I stumbled into the cell. The door slammed shut behind me. Spinning around, I sucked in a deep breath as panic swamped my head.
It’s just a room. Just an ugly room.
A room with a locked door. You’re trapped in here.
I sat on the cot, taking deep breaths to stave off my brewing anxiety attack.
About an hour later, the guard brought me a metal tray with sandwich and a bottle of water. “Lunch time.”
“Already?”
He chuckled and handed the tray though a slot on the door. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
I glared. There really was nothing funny about incarceration. “I’m not hungry.”
“You better eat anyway. Dinner time’s not for another six hours and there ain’t any snacks.”
I stood and pulled the tray through the slot. “Has my attorney shown up yet?”
“Nope. The only person who’s been asking about you is a blonde-headed woman who won’t stop talking. She’s asked to see you about ten times and we keep telling her no, but she’s a persistent thing.”
I couldn’t resist my smile. “Neely Kate.”