It made sense, but she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew they were together for sure.
She went to the dining room to turn off the light. Scattered across the table was the Monopoly game. They must’ve played a quick game after school. She smiled, though. It definitely meant they’d been together because who plays Monopoly by themselves?
She managed a few deep, thankful breaths of relief and opened the freezer door. Wherever they were, she knew they’d be home for dinner, and she’d have it ready for them.
Grayson apologized for the cuffs, saying it was procedure and that they cuffed everyone.
Damien didn’t say anything as he stared out the window of the patrol car, watching his town pass, street by street, house by house, door by door.
The general mood seemed subdued like the crowd after a holocaust movie. But why not? Many of them had their private words splashed across the Internet. Others read the ugly words spoken about them. The ugly words they’d used themselves.
It made Damien wonder if the words had any power before they were printed for all to read. Did they change the world when spoken, or did they change the person speaking them?
The short drive to the jail was over. The patrol car pulled to the side of the jailhouse into a small, underground parking garage. Grayson helped Damien out of the car, guiding him along as if he were a dinner date, with his hand on his back and his attention to detail, like opening doors and gesturing which way to walk.
“Sit here,” Grayson said. “I have to get paperwork.”
Damien sat in a metal-and-vinyl chair, watching the activity in the jailhouse. It wasn’t particularly busy. A few people glanced at him, but other than that he was left alone.
So he pondered whether or not he would face the consequences of his son’s actions. Would he be willing to spend time in jail for Hunter?
He couldn’t fathom why his son would do such a thing, yet he knew there had to be some good reason. Hunter was not one to cause chaos and destruction for no general purpose.
Through a nagging headache, Damien tried to find the strength to analyze the situation apart from his emotions. But he found it nearly impossible.
And so he sat there, his cuffed hands limp in his lap, waiting for whatever might come. He could do nothing, so he did nothing. He shoved it all out of his mind and stared at the linoleum, a dull gray but clean. He’d once done an op-ed column about the conditions of the jail. Looked as if they’d taken his article to heart.
Jenna had texted, said not to wait on dinner for her. Kay sighed, watching the oven as if something exciting might happen. She’d fixed a simple Mexican casserole, a sure winner. It was bubbling and ready to be served, with no one to serve it to.
Kay turned down the oven temperature and leaned against the counter, fiddling with a dish towel. She wondered what her parents had felt like when she was a teenager and there was no way to touch base with her. Maybe they were forced not to worry until there was confirmation that something was wrong.
She actually had quite a bit of assurance that everything was okay, but her motherly instinct still wouldn’t rest easy.
She tossed the salad for the fourth time and decided to go ahead and fill the water glasses with ice. The phone rang.
She snatched it up before it even completed the full ring. “Hello?”
“Kay? Are you okay?”
Kay caught her breath. “Jill?”
“Yes, it’s me. What’s the matter? You sound worried.”
“Um… no. I’m expecting a call; that’s all. Why do you ask?”
“Just because, you know…”
“Know what?”
“The Web site.”
Kay gripped the dish towel. “I thought you were cutting back.”
“Natalie told me.” She paused. “I didn’t realize Damien was a suspect.”
“He’s not. I mean, he is. But it’s ridiculous. They don’t have any proof. They’re grasping at straws. We’re fine and…” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Fine? She wasn’t fine, judging by how she wrung the towel like there was water to squeeze out.
“I’m coming over.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’m… Jill?” The line was dead.
Damien watched the plump and disengaged woman behind the desk take the man’s fingers one by one, pressing the tips into a pad of dark ink, then rolling them from side to side inside little white boxes. He looked like a criminal. Disheveled hair. Dirty hands. Torn clothes.
She handed the man a wipe, as if he might be concerned about a stain on his fingertips.
Damien remained in his seat, where he studied his own fingers. He wondered why he hadn’t done that yet.
He sensed someone standing above him. Grayson. “You get one phone call. You can make it over at that empty desk.” He talked like there was nothing unusual going on. Just a regular day. “I’m not charging you yet. I want to give you every opportunity to clear this thing up. We’re going to hold you here for seventy-two hours. As we continue the investigation, we’ll be able to ask you to clarify things for us as they develop. I hope you understand.”
Damien wondered whom he should call. Kay? He knew if he heard her voice, he couldn’t lie to her. He’d have to tell her everything. Should he call a lawyer? What was the point? It was his decision to take the fall for his kid or not. Plus, it just made him look guiltier. A friend? And which friend would that be? He didn’t have any close friends except Frank. These days he wasn’t sure where he stood with his coworkers.
“Damien?”
Maybe it was safer for everyone involved if he sat in jail. He needed more time to think things through. “I’ll pass.”
“You’ll pass?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Grayson took him by the arm and led him to a holding cell. “Bail will not be set until we file official charges. For now, you’ll be here until we figure some things out.”
Grayson stepped aside and let the officer working the jail holding area lock the door. The cell was a reinforced concrete box. Damien estimated about six feet by eight feet with a sliding door made of heavy bars. There was a slot, presumably for food. A stainless steel sink and toilet were bolted to the wall. There were two cells on either side of the expansive room. This jail was built in the late forties. Not much about it had changed, except the decor and the floor.
“I don’t know what to say.” Grayson stared at the floor, the sounds of the police holding area whispering between them. He finally looked up. “I don’t suppose you have anything to say?”
Damien answered him by sitting in the single chair near the back wall. He couldn’t look him in the eye for fear that Grayson might read his face and know he was hiding something more than what Grayson perceived as guilt.
Grayson sighed and left.
Damien sat still, his chest barely lifting to breathe, and closed his eyes, remembering the day Hunter was born and the first words he whispered into his tiny ear: “I will always protect you.”
34
“I just wish I knew where they were,” Kay said. She’d taken the casserole out of the oven and served them both a plate, but she couldn’t taste the two bites she’d tried.
Jill noticed. “You’re sure they’re together?”
“Yes. Monopoly was out and they love playing it together. But where they went after that, I don’t know.” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the cell phone on the counter. “I really wish we wouldn’t have grounded Hunter. If he just had his cell phone with him.”
Jill reached across the breakfast bar for her hand. “I’m sure they’re fine. Like you said, you know they’re together.”
Kay smiled. “I bet right now Damien is realizing he forgot his phone and he’s kicking himself.”
“He knows he’s going to be in big trouble when he returns.” Jill let go of her hand and returned to eating her portion of the casserole. “Maybe we should pray.”