Keeping Secrets part seven

By Annie Lisenby Smith

“This stinks,” Paige says resting the side of her head against the window of the police cruiser. Shifting, she tries in vain to release the pressure of the handcuffs from digging into her wrists.

“I’m so sorry,” Alice replies, tears streaming down her face. With her head drooped forward in defeat, the tears fall to her lap leaving dark circles on her slacks.

Paige and Alice, mom and daughter, ride in silence the rest of the way to the police station. Alice had already instructed Paige not to say a word about their evening. Her eyes are so intense that Paige knew she was deadly serious. The only saving grace was that when the police cruiser passed Tech Guy Tom’s white SUV, Paige could clearly see the silhouette of two men in the front seats watching as the car slipped by.

“We’re here,” a gruff officer says from the driver’s seat. He and his partner, a middle-aged woman with gray hairs escaping her tight bun, climb out of the car and adjust the various items on their belts before opening the doors for Paige and Alice to climb out.

“She’s my daughter,” Alice says, “so we should be kept together.”

The policeman huffs, his face soured by years of dealing with criminals. “That’s up to the chief.” He ushers Alice and Paige into the quiet police station. Not surprisingly to Paige, there aren’t many criminals or police lingering in the station at 2:00 a.m.

As Paige is stifling a yawn, Alice leans over and whispers, “Don’t forget your one phone call.”

“Who am I going to call?” Paige asks with a pointed glance at Alice. “Grandma won’t hear the phone without her hearing aids, and I think that Dad is off the table for now too.”

“Her hearing is that bad now?” Alice frowns. “I know she was going downhill a few years ago, but…”

“Mom,” Paige starts, “you’ve been gone two years. What did you expect?”

Alice bites her lip, which makes Paige want to wrap her arms around Alice in a huge hug. Wearing handcuffs makes this impossible, so she leans into her mom, resting her chin on Alice’s shoulder.

“No touching!” the lady cop commands. At this, the guy cop comes out of an office, his face even further soured. “Put them in interrogation room 3.”

The lady cop leads Alice and Paige into a stark room with only a table, two chairs, and a big mirror. Paige is stifling another yawn when she catches sight of her reflection. Her hair is fried, flying in all directions. Circles are darkening under her eyes, and she has a ketchup stain on her shirt. It’s been the longest night of her life and it’s not over yet.

“Don’t say anything,” Alice says sinking into one of the chairs. “Let me do all the talking.”

Paige nods and leans against the wall, the cold cinder blocks against her arms helping to stimulate her senses and keep her away. But after a few minutes, a new cop with lots of decoration on his uniform comes in, introduces himself as Captain Graves, and starts throwing questions at Alice.

Each of her replies are either “I can’t comment on that” or “I don’t have knowledge of that.” The back and forth between Alice and Captain Graves continues forever. Without a clock on the wall or a phone in her hand, Paige has no idea what time it is. But with her arms stiff from the handcuffs and her eyes drying from exhaustion, Paige knows she needs a change of location ASAP. If not, she’s sure she’ll fall over dead asleep on the floor in the next two minutes.

“I want to make my phone call,” Paige says from the corner of the room.

Captain Graves shifts his gaze to Paige with a quirked eyebrow. Swiveling in her chair, Alice’s eyes ask questions that Paige can’t answer.

“And I really have to pee,” Paige adds. “It’s been forever, and I just really have to go now.”

Paige has no idea what she’s doing, she hasn’t all night long. Getting out of this room is the biggest goal she has now and she’ll take any chance she can get to make that happen.

“Officer Fisher!” the captain yells at the door. When the lady cop opens it, he instructs her to take Paige to the restroom. As she leads Paige down the hallway, the squeak of Piper Glen’s voice bounces through the halls from another interrogation room. As they pass, Paige leans for the door trying in vain to hear what lies Piper is making up now. Just the sound of her mouse-like voice makes Paige’s blood run cold.

Standing in the tiny, tiled bathroom with the scent of industrial cleaners stinging her nose, Paige turns to Officer Fisher. “Can these come off?” She nods at her hands still cuffed behind her. “It’s kind of hard to do this without my hands.”

Officer Fisher’s eyes tighten as she looks Paige over from head to toe. “Okay,” she says reaching for her keys. “But make it quick. I’ll be standing right here, so don’t try anything.”

“Okay,” Paige shrugs. With the click of two tiny locks, Paige is released from the handcuffs. She immediately rubs her wrists. Red lines cover them from where the metal had dug into her skin for the past few hours. She stretches her fingers relishing their freedom.

“Hurry up,” Officer Fisher nods at the stall door. Going quickly, but not too fast, Paige takes care of her business and goes to wash her hands. As she squirts thick pink soap into her palm, she sees the numbers still scrawled there. They’re faded, but she can clearly make out Brayden’s phone number. The idea hits like a ton of bricks. Brayden. Her last phone call. She can’t do anything to save herself now, but she can call Brayden to apologize for getting him wrapped up in this mess. And she can make sure that he’s okay, that Piper’s henchmen haven’t gotten to him.

Turning around and holding her hands out in front of herself, Paige tells Officer Fisher, “I’m ready for my phone call.”

To her great relief, Officer Fisher cuffs her hands in her front before leading her out. “Sit down,” Officer Fisher points to a chair next to a desk. It’s covered in cheap vinyl, cracks splitting and digging at the back of Paige’s legs where her shorts don’t cover. But Paige quickly dismisses the comfort when Officer Fisher passes her the phone from her desk.

Her fingers trembling with anticipation, Paige dials Brayden’s number. It rings but goes to voicemail making

Paige’s heart quicken. She can’t do this over voicemail. No one uses voicemail anymore anyway. Her gaze jumps to Officer Fisher.

“He didn’t answer,” she says. “Probably because it’s so late. I guess it is, I don’t know what time it is now.” Paige looks around the room searching for a clock.

With a quick glance at her computer screen, Officer Fisher says, “It’s 3:50 a.m.”

“Oh, wow,” Paige says surprised. This is the latest she’s ever been up. Even at slumber parties, she is always the first person to fall asleep. “Can I just try the number again?”

“Sure,” Officer Fisher says wrapping her arms over her chest and yawning widely.

The line connects and the phone rings. Paige holds her breath counting the rings. One. Two. Three. Four. Fiv—.

“Hello?” Bryden’s sleep-filled voice cracks over the phone.

“Brayden!” Paige jumps as she shouts his name with excitement. She presses the phone harder against her ear.

“Who is this?” Brayden asks to the sound of him shifting in his bed.

“Paige. It’s Paige,” she replies feeling hopeful to hear his voice but also dreading all she has to tell him in a short amount of time. “Did you get my text earlier?”

“Paige?” His volume rises as he wakens. “Are you okay? After that weird text message, I didn’t know what to do. Did you get my texts? You never replied.”

“No, I didn’t get them,” Paige blurted, her words falling like a waterfall. “I had to destroy my phone. Was that you who called the police? Because I’m kind of in some trouble now and I was worried you were in trouble too.”

“Yeah, I called the police,” Brayden says. “They didn’t believe me at first. Then this one guy called back right after I hung up. He said he was with the CIA. Paige, what is going on?”

A look at Officer Fisher assured Paige that she was eavesdropping. Watching her words, Paige replies, “Look, I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brayden says. “Are you okay?”

Searching for the right words, Paige licks her lips. “Yeah, I’m fine. Things are weird, but I’m fine.”

“What can I do to help?” Brayden asks.

“Nothing. Just forget everything tonight,” Paige says. “Everything is going to work itself out, that’s what my mom said. So, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Smiling as she talks, Paige hopes with all her heart that Brayden believes her. Her speech teacher last year had said to smile when you talk to win over your audience. Paige doesn’t know if that works over the phone, but she keeps the smile plastered anyway.

“Okay,” Brayden sighs. “So you’re okay?”

What is happening? Paige falls in line behind Alice and the surfer suit guy. The Latin suit guy follows behind.

“Mom?” Paige whispers.

“No talking,” commands the surfer suit guy.

“Yeah, I wanted to thank you for calling the police,” Paige replies sinking into her chair. Across the room, two men in dark suits stride down the hall like they’re on a mission. When they stop at the interrogation room where Alice is still talking to the captain, Paige freezes.

“Paige? You still there?” Brayden’s voice is tight, strained. Does he feel the tension filling every cell of Paige’s body?

“Yeah, I’m here,” Paige forces out. “Thanks. And sorry to call so late. My phone is broken. And I just wanted to make sure everything was good there.”

The two suits knock quickly, then enter the interrogation room. The stern looks on their faces and the briskness of their movements makes Paige sit up taller.

“I’m fine here, just stayed up too late playing Fortnight with the guys.” A faint knocking sound comes over the line. “Hold on,” Brayden says.

“What is it?” Paige asks.

“Time’s up,” Officer Fisher informs her reaching for the phone.

Paige grabs the phone and presses it against her chest. “Just give me another minute,” Paige says. “Brayden, are you still there?”

“Come on, kid,” Officer Fisher rolls her eyes.

“There’s someone here. That’s weird,” Brayden says.

“Who is it?” Paige asks avoiding Officer Fisher’s hands reaching for the phone.

“Kid, cut it out,” Officer Fisher warns. “Give me the phone.”

“My mom is talking to them, probably no one,” Brayden says sending a wave of relief over Paige. He’s home. He’s safe. Nothing will happen to him. “Hold on. I gotta go. Mom says I need to go down and talk to someone.”

Every alarm bell in Paige’s body goes off at once. “No! Don’t!” she yells into the phone, but the line is dead. Brayden is gone. Paige doesn’t try to deflect when Officer Fisher grabs the phone from her hands.

“Officer,” a booming voice comes from across the room. Outside the interrogation room, one of the suits is motioning to Officer Fisher.

“Let’s go,” Officer Fisher lifts Paige under the arm and pulls her to standing. As she directs Paige’s feet toward the suit, Paige feels every nerve in her body screaming to run, to get away.

The suit, a Latin man with thick hair and a thin beard, stands in the doorway. His face is neutral, like a gambler. It says nothing. And that nothing is crazy scary to Paige. He looks over his shoulder and with another nod, the other suit leads Alice out of the room. This guy is blonde and tanned, looking like a surfer in a sharp suit.

“Ladies,” he says, “come with us.” Alice gives Paige a deflated nod. What is happening? Paige falls in line behind Alice and the surfer suit guy. The Latin suit guy follows behind.

“Mom?” Paige whispers.

“No talking,” commands the surfer suit guy.

They follow in silence down the hall and outside to where a big, black SUV waits. After the night she’s had, Paige bucks at the SUV.