Page 75 of Love Always

At nine fifteen, I hear sirens.

“If you were a real suspect, they’d probably run silent. Just to reassure you,” says Mateus.

I look out the window. Five patrol cars have pulled up, their lights and sirens blaring. Then, with a final “whoop,” the lights are left to themselves. Detective Carlson steps out with a paper in his hand and two officers walk with him to the door. I can’t see them anymore, but the knocking is loud.

I still jump.

Mateus gives me a quick hug. Devon goes downstairs to answer the door.

From the window we can see a few people stepping out of their homes. Lindy suddenly has her hearing restored and stands out in the road, pointing to the cops to move their cars. Footsteps echo from the staircase and then two officers step into the room with Detective Carlson.

One of the policemen jerks me around, and Mateus is instantly furious. The handcuffs hurt. Carlson’s reading me Miranda rights and then I realize, as the policeman pushes me, that Mateus is not acting. He grabs the cop by the shoulder, and the other one tries to muscle in.

Carlson intervenes. “Hey, she’s under arrest. She’s not charged or convicted. You treat her with respect. Get her into the car nicely. We do not roughhouse,” he says. “Mr. Gutiérrez you may not touch the police. Are we clear?”

They lead me down the stairs to the car. Finn and Claire stand on the porch of The Inn, holding hands and looking quite surprised. Chloe steps out and then I’m in the car. Even though I know it’s all fake and I know it’s not real, and it’s all for a good cause, I start crying.

This is my worst nightmare. That people know I’m a terrible person, that I have a terrible reputation, and that it’s public.

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At the police station Detective Carlson takes me into an interrogation room, dismisses the two other cops, strings the cuffs through a chain on the table, and we sit and talk for a very long time. Someone brings me a chicken salad sandwich. Claire has called the family attorney, and poor Aiden McCardell has no idea what’s going on. He’s not a criminal lawyer and I keep trying to tell him not to worry, and he keeps telling me not to say anything. He’s flustered and drops papers out of his briefcase. I say I have nothing to hide. I’m willing to speak to Detective Carlson. The good detective pretends to get a text, excuses himself, and leaves.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier? Why wasn’t I the first person to call?”

“Believe me, this isn’t a big deal. I didn’t do anything. It’s fine,” I say though my heart’s breaking and I’m afraid he’s going to have a heart attack or something. He’s got to be in his early seventies.

“Are they treating you nicely? I know Carlson. He’s a good guy.”

“Yes, I got lunch. It’s fine.”

Aiden actually uses long large legal pads and he’s got three fanned out in front of him.

“Really. It’s fine. It’s all good.”

“You seem pretty calm,” he says.

“I didn’t do anything.”

A few more minutes go by and Detective Carlson steps back in. Taking out a key, he unlocks the handcuffs and sets them on the table. “You’re free to go.”

Aiden, who had been writing things down nearly the entire hour he’s been here, stacks the legal pads like a giant deck of cards, picks them up, and follows the two of us out to the small lobby in the station. Detective Carlson stops.

“That was ballistics and the forensics crew. We don’t have a good set of prints and there’s no DNA evidence tying you to the crime so we can’t keep you. What I’d like to do is ask you not to leave the area and if you can think of anything else I want you to contact me immediately.”

“No. She’s to contact me immediately. Do you need a ride home?” Aiden says, still looking flustered. He is a great attorney, but criminal law is out of his wheelhouse. He’s also watched all of us grow up, and saw us through our parents’ death and Geo’s guardianship. The whole thing. I feel so bad he’s unwittingly involved now.

“No, my ride’s here,” I say. Because there’s Mateus just sitting quietly in a plastic chair, his hands on his knees, one foot tapping. Just seeing the muscles in his legs straining under suit pants is sexy.

Detective Carlson looks surprised. “Oh. He’s with you? He wouldn’t talk to any of us.”

Mateus stands and stares at Carlson. “That’s because I thought earlier you had a brain and clearly you don’t.”

I almost burst out laughing. Carlson looks genuinely hurt. Carlson made clear this had to look real, feel real. It made sense Mateus was mad at him for shifting his position from “oh she’s being framed,” to “maybe she really did it.” If there were any moles in the department or anyone went home and told their sister or brother who told somebody else … well. It would all seem real.

Small towns plus juicy story equals lots of gossip. I know all about that.

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