I hear that, through my haze, and lift my head. “Stone,” I say, loudly enough for him to hear.
He drops to his knees in front of my chair, tears freely streaming down his face. “Shannon,” he whispers brokenly. “What’s going on? What are they talking about?”
“It’s Troy,” I say, fighting back tears of my own. “Two years ago a drug deal went wrong, and a girl was killed. It was him, I know it.”
“But that’s got nothing to do with you,” he says, standing and turning to face the officers once more. “You can’t take her,” he says loudly, poking the closest officer in the chest. He’s so close they’re almost bumping noses. “She’s innocent, I know it.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the officer says firmly, taking a step back. “Right now, there’s nothing we can do. She will be transported tomorrow morning for arraignment.”
A growl escapes Stone’s throat, and he drops once more to his knees in front of me. “They can’t do this,” he whispers, holding my face between his large hands.
“I have to go,” I say, gripping his hands against my cheeks. “Take care of Zeke,” I say, placing a soft kiss on his lips. I try to pull away, but he drags me back in for another air-stealing kiss that leaves me breathless. In that moment, I know. His feelings are made abundantly clear.
Stone reluctantly stands back and the officers wheel me out of the bar, gently placing me in the back seat of the patrol car. I must look ridiculous. I’m still in my mother’s wedding dress, for God’s sake.
I can’t bring myself to look at the crowd that spills out of the bar. Zeke is running alongside the car, shouting something at me as we drive away, but I keep my face carefully calm and don’t look at him.
If I do, I’ll fall apart. But there’s no mistaking the scream of fury that echoes over the crowd. It’s the sound of a man falling apart, a man driven to madness by the demons of his nightmares.
It’s my husband.
They fucking arrested her.
Just when I thought things were finally looking up, they came and took her away from me. My reason to smile. I swallow another mouthful of beer, my sobriety long gone as I sit on the back porch. I don’t fucking care. She’s gone. I was finally starting to get better. The voices in my head had stopped, as had the nightmares every time I closed my eyes. Now all I can see is the terror on Shannon’s face as they took my new wife away. She’d tried to be brave; I could see it in the stubborn set of her jaw as they’d pushed the wheelchair out. Poor Zeke had been inconsolable, clinging to Ruth as he cried. And I’d stood there. Still as a statue.
I’d let them take her.
A cry of fury rips from my throat, and I throw the empty bottle I’m holding in my hand. It hits one of the posts holding the porch up and shatters. The noise is deafening in the quiet night air. I pick up a fresh beer from the six-pack beside me and open it, swallowing a mouthful as the porch door opens. The light flicks on and I blink at the sudden brightness. “Jesus Christ,” I slur, holding my forearm across my eyes. “Turn that shit off.”
“What are you doing?” Zeke asks as he steps out onto the porch.
My eyes adjust to the light and I slowly lower my arm and give him a lazy smile. “Want a beer?”
Zeke shakes his head, his mouth set in a firm line. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting drunk,” I say, sweeping my arm about grandly. “What else are you meant to do when your wife’s in prison on your wedding night?”
“You fucking disgust me,” Zeke snaps, spitting the words out.
I stare up at him, my mouth hanging slightly open. “You watch your tongue, boy.”
Zeke says nothing but stomps over to me and picks up an unopened beer. He’s taking my advice. I can finally relax. I close my eyes and rest my head back against the couch. That’s when I hear it. The smash of the glass bottle.
I open my eyes and stare in horror as Zeke smashes bottle after bottle of unopened beer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I gasp in disbelief.
He turns to face me, and I flinch at the furious scowl on his face. “You’re a pig,” he says. “Your wife is in prison for murder, and you’re sitting here fucking getting drunk.”
“I said watch your tongue.”
“Like I give a rat’s ass what you think of me!” Zeke shouts. “You were never there for me when I was growing up, and now when things are difficult for Shannon, you’re going to turn your back on her, too.”
“Zeke, I—”
“I don’t want to hear your damn excuses, Dad,” he says sarcastically. “You’ve made enough of them to last us all a lifetime. Just do me a favor.” He pauses and brushes the hair out of his face. “Save Shannon, or stay the fuck out of our lives.” He storms off the porch and a few minutes later, I hear the front door slam. I’m still sitting in the same position, shocked into silence.
His outburst has shocked me sober, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Zeke is right; I’ve abandoned everyone who’s ever meant something to me. But I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never been the hero. I’ve never wanted to be. But the thought of Shannon, alone in prison, spurs me into action. I dress quickly in a black t-shirt and clean jeans. Grabbing my truck keys, I pause and mentally shake my head. I’ve had way too much to drink to drive.
I grab the cordless phone from the coffee table in the living room and call a cab. Waiting impatiently for it to arrive, I pace back and forth at the front of the house. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I can’t just sit here and let Shannon rot in jail. I see headlights approaching, barely giving the driver enough time to stop before I jump in the back of the cab. I practically shout the directions to the club I went to with Shannon a few weeks ago. “Hey, buddy,” the driver says over his shoulder. “That club is an hour away.”
“I don’t care,” I seethe through gritted teeth as I remove a one-hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and pass it to him. “Keep the damn change.”
“You got it.”
I say nothing for the rest of the trip, just sit in the back seat and plan my next move. Find Shannon’s ex, Troy. This is all connected to him.
We pull up at the club and I throw another fifty over the front seat as I jump out. I jog up to the entrance and thankfully get past the bouncers without a problem.
The club is dark, with strobe lights everywhere. It’s as pitiful as I remember. I go straight up to the bar and ask for Troy. The bartender looks me up and down, but points to a darkened corner of the club. I thank him and turn away, heading for the corner he indicated. There’s a small round table and I recognize Troy as he sits there, surrounded by girls and two people I never expected to see.
“Stone,” the woman gasps, scrambling to her feet.
“Effie.” I incline my head slightly at her, my eyes never leaving Shannon’s ex-boyfriend.
“Can I help you with something?” Harold Kensington asks gruffly. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“This won’t take a minute,” I promise. “I just need to speak with Troy. Privately.”
“Anything you have to say to me,” Troy slurs, gesturing around with his hands, “you can say in front of my friends.”
I consider his words in silence for a moment then nod. “Okay,” I agree, spurring into action.
I grab him by his shirt and drag him up, pinning him against the wall as I punch him in the face.
“Start talking,” I growl.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he whines, holding his hands up to his bloody nose. “I don’t know anything.”
“Wrong answer.”
Arrested on my wedding day.