Close Call by Amelia Wilde

Close Call by Amelia Wilde

Author:Amelia Wilde [Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-25T18:30:00+00:00


11

JAMESON

Everything hurts.

I’m not a doctor—not enough time between being a criminal mastermind and getting my JD, ha fucking ha—but I’m fairly certain that one of those motherfuckers just missed breaking a rib and another one just missed driving the steel toe of his boot into a kidney.

Couple of close calls.

They didn’t miss my face, though, so at least that’s something.

The lights in the small-town jail are like hellfire. I don’t think I’ve been booked here before, but I can’t tell. My head throbs at one temple and stabs at the other. I have a split lip and—no. My jaw isn’t broken, but fuck.

My main concern is getting back to Lily. That’s top of the list.

My second concern is that the gang of cops who claimed I was resisting arrest in the middle of a creepy forest when I definitely was just standing there might not have been made up entirely of cops.

I think that because they brought me in through the back, handed me off to some bewildered sheriff who had no idea why he was being interrupted in the middle of his dinner, and left.

They didn’t fill out any paperwork.

Not to paint with a broad brush, but in addition to being walking red flags, cops loved paperwork. A real cop would’ve relished in writing down the many details of my threatening behavior and suspicious movements and such.

It’s weird that they didn’t.

Although one of them might’ve handed something off to the sheriff. Couldn’t see before, because most of my vision bailed on me at that particular moment.

Fuck, my rib hurts.

There’s no good way to sit. I don’t blame the holding cell for that. It’s pretty quaint, as far as holding cells go, like a historical replica. I dripped a little blood on what I know for a fact is an antique hardwood floor.

“This place would go for at least a million,” I say.

The sheriff doesn’t answer. He’s been on the phone since I got here. His desk is about ten feet away down the hall. There’s nobody else here.

“People like old shit,” I go on. At this point, I need to focus on staying awake. Could be some concussion action going on. Gabriel had one of those when he jumped out of that building. I thought he was dead, and he pulled himself up on my sweatshirt and then hurled all over said sweatshirt. On the upside, I haven’t done that. Yet. “You could get a zoning exception and make it multi-use. Stay in the old-timey sheriff’s office. Arrest some—” My stomach turns. “—bad guys or whatever. Mug shots. Operate it under a non-profit and build some new parks. Places like this always have parks. Maybe there could be a park next door, and then you can have a walking path.”

“Jameson?” The sheriff oozes in front of the bars of the holding cell. People aren’t supposed to move like that. Must be my eyes. Except I did see a plant watching me earlier, so it’s anybody’s guess. “I brought you an ice pack.



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