Page 61 of Race to Me

I walk away and open the passenger door, sliding in without a word. Kate leans up in the seat, and I politely raise my hand when she goes to speak. “Nope,” I tell her.

Foster gets back in and peels down the road. He places a hand on my leg, which calms me slightly. “What do—”

“Nope,” I tell him, not wanting to speak to a soul right now. All I want is to handle the missing person’s report, get Brett out of jail, and go to sleep.

“I don’t want to bring you stress, Sky.” Foster breathes deep, bringing his tattooed fingers over to graze my cheek. “It’s all going to be okay, baby girl.”

Kate taps on my shoulder, peeking her head around the headrest. “What’s happening, Sky?” she inquires.

I look to Foster and shake my head, grabbing her hand that’s resting on my shoulder. “I’ll explain later, all right?” I suggest, trying to not say anything hateful. I’m just having a really, really bad day.

She nods, patiently leaning back against her seat.

When we pull up to the station, I grab Kate’s card, my ID, and head inside. Foster follows, unwilling to let me go alone. But with the news of my parents placing a missing person’s report out, I’m glad he’ll be there with me.

A woman sits at the desk, greeting us when we walk inside. “What can I help you with?” she asks.

I look at her nameplate. “Hello, Ruby. I would like to get my friend out of jail.”

The woman nods, pulling up something on the computer. “Name?”

“Brett Miller,” I reply with a waning breath, hoping he’s okay.

“Okay,” She nods, rolling through the information. “Miss, it looks like his hearing won’t be until tomorrow, so bail hasn’t been set yet.”

“So, he’s stuck here another night?”

She nods. “That’s correct. The judge won’t be in until Monday morning.”

I quietly seethe. “He doesn’t need a hearing.” I reply.

“Have you seen his charges?” she asks, raising a brow.

I nod. “Yes, because the allegations of assault were about me.”

Her brows lift, and she steps around the counter to walk up to a nearby sheriff. They exchange a few tentative words, and he looks over me. “Ms. Wells,” He nods, then he turns his attention to Foster. “Nice to see you again, Jennings.”

I don’t ponder long on why these two know each other when Foster grits his teeth. “We need your help.” he strains to say this.

The sheriff looks amused, crossing his arms. “Normally, you’re running away from us. Now, you want our help?” He laughs. He’s plump, with rosy cheeks that remind me of Santa.

Foster runs a long hand down his face. “Someone used my name to make false allegations against one of your inmates, Brett Miller.”

“Oh, the Miller boy!” The sheriff chuckled, adding, “He’s being processed for release now.”

“The clerk said it would be Monday before the judge would set bail.” I state, furrowing my brows.

“She was mistaken. His dad came by about an hour ago.” He nods his head towards Brett’s father who is sitting against the wall, his eyes stuck in a magazine. I blanket my face with my hair, not wanting him to see me. My heart sinks; his dad knows. And I know why he’s getting let go, because money controls everything.

I’m happy that advantage is going to Brett, who doesn’t deserve to spend another second here.

We walk past the clerk, and she waves me down. “Anything else I can help you with, dear?”

I groan. “Yes, I need to un-file a missing person’s report?” I question the way I word it, giving her a nervous look.

She lets out a low whistle. “Busy day for you, isn’t it?” She laughs, trying to break the tension on my face. I can’t help but smile a little.

“Name?”

---