Page 31 of Bad Seed

Justine was right in the middle of a hissy fit when she saw a cop walk in. “It’s about fucking time!” she cried, wiping tears from her face. “I should report you to the chief of police!”

“I’m the police chief. Chief Warren. You’ve had your rights read to you. You are being charged with drunk and disorderly, two accounts of assault, property damage, and bodily injury to two women who were eating there. One has a broken arm. The other, cracked ribs. Your father has already reclaimed the keys to his car and has advised that he will not be calling a lawyer on your behalf.”

Justine was already reeling from the reality of her situation when she heard those last words. She let out a scream of despair that would have put a howling wolf to shame.

“He can’t do that!” she wailed.

“Oh, yes, ma’am. He can and did. You are not a child, you are a twenty-four-year-old adult woman, and in the eyes of the law, he does not owe you shelter or support. You can call a lawyer for yourself, or a court-ordered attorney will be furnished for you. You will be arraigned sometime within the next twenty-four hours, and I assume bail will be set. You also need to knowyour father has no intention of putting up bail money. I’m allowing you a phone call. Think carefully who that might be before you waste it begging for something you’re not going to get.”

All the while the chief had been talking, Justine had been backing up all the way to the farthest wall of the cell, as if trying to get away from the truth of her situation. She was pale and shaking, and her stomach was rolling. All of a sudden, she dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around the toilet bowl, and threw up until she was gasping for breath. When there was nothing left to come up, she dragged herself to the bunk and sat staring at the floor, unaware the police chief was still there.

“Do you want to make a call?” he asked.

She jerked, startled at the sound of his voice. “Mama. I want to call my mama,” she whispered.

“Do you know her number?” Sonny asked.

Justine nodded.

“Wait here,” Sonny said, and went to get Randy. “I’m giving her time to make her phone call. Bring the cuffs,” he said.

Randy opened the cell, cuffed her, and then he and the chief escorted her to a phone and gave her a little space to make the call.

Justine was shaking. “Don’t I get any privacy?” she asked.

“The only privacy you have left in this situation is what passes between you and your lawyer,” Sonnysaid.

Justine’s hands were trembling as she made the call to her mother, praying as she counted the unanswered rings and scared it was going to go to voicemail. Then just at the last moment, the call picked up.

“Hello.”

Justine started crying. “Mama…Mommy…I am in so much trouble and I’m so sorry. Daddy has washed his hands of me. Will you help?”

Karen sighed. “I know. He called me. What do you need?”

“I will be arraigned sometime within the next twenty-four hours and bail will be set. But there’s no one to put up bail money, and I don’t know how much it will be. Will you come? I won’t be allowed to leave Jubilee until this is over, and I’m pretty sure Daddy won’t let me back in the penthouse, either. I don’t know what to do.” Then she broke down sobbing.

Karen succumbed to resignation. She’d run out on Justine once. She couldn’t live with herself if she did it again.

“Yes, I’ll come, and I’ll find a bondsman to post your bail. We’ll figure the rest out after I’m there, and I’ll talk to your father. We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you, Mama. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Justine said.

“I know you’re sorry you’re in jail,” Karen said. “But I wonder how sorry you are about what you’ve done to other people. I’ll see you soon,” Karen said.

“I love you, Mama,” Justine said, but her mother had already disconnected. “Bitch,” she muttered, and went quietly back to the cell, then lay back down on the bunk and turned her face to the wall.

Chapter 6

Ollie Prine arrived in Chicago, caught a cab to his hotel, and was trying to remember the name of the guy he’d done time with who lived here. If he could find him, Harley Banks might be high-profile enough in the city for someone to know where she lived. His name was something like Shultz, or Shulter. He’d remember it in a bit when he quit thinking about it. That’s how names always came to him. When he let go of worrying about it.

***

Harley Banks was already packed for her flight tomorrow and was in the living room with her feet up, balancing her laptop as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She was doing what she always did before beginning a new case—getting background on the people she would be working with.

She already had notes on Ray and his family and was running a background check on Larry Beaumont and his daughter, Justine.

She now knew Larry’s daughter had been kicked out and failed out of two different colleges. She had been arrested for shoplifting and picked up on one DUI that was dismissed. Both criminal offenses were in Dallas, Texas, and she had no work history, but she did have a record of rehab stints for alcohol abuse. Harley was still running checks when an update appeared on Justine’s police record. She’d just been booked into jail in Jubilee, Kentucky, on various charges, all stemming from drunk and disorderly.

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