A Swatch of Murder by Summer Prescott

Author:Summer Prescott [Prescott, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2023-12-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Riding in the back of a police car wasn’t as terrifying, or as exciting, as I had imagined it might be, but my stomach still turned somersaults as I wondered what was coming next. The only thing that I knew of being detained and/or going to jail, was what I had seen in the TV crime shows. I imagined being thrown into a cage with street people, high on drugs, who were looking for someone to beat up. I might catch lice, for crying out loud!

My imagination worked me into such a state that by the time we got to the police station, my teeth were chattering, and I wondered if I was going to pass out or throw up. Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten much of Mom’s delicious dinner.

I tried to ask Griff questions a couple of times on the ride over, but my polite, and somewhat desperate-sounding, queries were met with stony silence. I didn’t even attempt to use feminine wiles to sway the taciturn detective. That might work on ticket-issuing street cops, but I had a hunch that this guy would be impervious to even my boldest attempts to flirt. Why couldn’t I be more like Charla, who could talk her way out of anything?

Griff opened the car door for me, after pulling into the police vehicle parking lot.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

How rude. I got out of the car, and he made me walk in front of him, using nods of his head to steer me through various brightly lit hallways that weren’t anything like the jails that I had seen on TV. We got to a secured area that looked like a waiting room, with molded plastic chairs bolted to the floor, in front of cubicles scattered throughout a warehouse-sized space. It was mostly quiet, with murmurings of official conversations barely audible in the background, and there were only two people in the chairs. One was a woman with a turquoise plastic mini-skirt and a bubblegum pink tube top, and the other looked and smelled like a homeless person who’d had too much to drink.

“Sit,” Griff commanded, like I was a dog or something.

There were three rows of chairs. The homeless guy was in the back row, on the far left, the colorful woman was in the second row, on the far right, and I sat down in the middle of the front row. Griff went to one of the cubicles and spoke to someone. I felt naked and alone without my purse and phone, which he’d taken as we left the house and insisted that I couldn’t have, and a chill went up my spine when the woman that I’d seen slid into the seat behind me and leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

“What’d they get you for?” Her voice was both sultry and weary.

She smelled like cheap perfume and cigarette smoke, which was oddly not unpleasant.

“Murder,” I whispered back, thinking that I would stun her into silence.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Whoa, dang girl.

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