Page 38 of Deathmarch
Devon Abram flashed her a pointed look and cleared his throat.
Right, don’t joke about committing a crime, while in court.
“You only have to come up with ten percent for a bail bond,” her lawyer said.
She dropped her gaze, humiliation burning through her. “I don’t have two thousand cash at the moment either.”
Then they were filing out of the judge’s chambers, and as Abram left, promising to call later to set up a strategy meeting, Harper took Allie by the elbow and escorted her back to his cruiser. He said something, but she was still too frazzled to pay attention. All she could think of was that he was returning her to jail.
He locked her in the back then slipped behind the wheel in the front and turned to her. “Listen, Allie—”
“No.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I don’t want to talk to you.” She swallowed, hard. “I need a minute here, okay?”
Her eyes burned. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Harper Flipping Finnegan who was ruining her life. She was choking on despair, and she hated the taste, so she called up fury and let its cold fire fill her instead. And she let him see that anger in her eyes. Let him see that if the bars weren’t between them, she would be choking him with her cuffed hands.
“Okay.” He turned back to the front, sent off a text, then drove her back to Broslin in silence.
The whole way there, as Allie watched the fields and trees zoom by, she kept feeling as if she was stuck in a weird nightmare snow globe, banging on the glass, trapped.
Except in this case, the snow was outside. Frigid cold. Empty fields. Dead-looking trees. A perfect reflection of what she felt like inside.
Then when they arrived at the PD and Harper helped her out of the cruiser, hot fury filled her again. When they walked inside and she saw Kennan Finnegan waiting at the front desk, she snapped at him. “Here to gloat?”
He leaned casually against the counter, exchanging a glance with Harper. “Here to pay your bail.”
She blinked at him.Dear God, or Goddess, or spirits, or freaking sugarplum fairies, or whoever is listening—please let life make sense again.
“Sorry about Brittany the other day, by the way,” Kennan said. “She was drunk. If she kept on with it, I would have stopped her.”
While Harper took the cuffs off Allie, Robin produced the paperwork with a smile. “Everything will be all right.”
Except she didn’t say it in a platitude-y kind of way that people said everyday niceties. She said it in a spooky tone and all googly eyed. And it actually made Allie feel better, because Robin moonlighted as Broslin’s resident psychic.
“You think?”
“I do.” Robin’s smile didn’t waver. “You hang in there, honey.”
Kennan paid, then shot Harper awhy are we doing this?look before heading toward the door.
“Thank you?” Allie called after him, rubbing her wrists.
What is happening?
Kennan sauntered out with an odd grin at Harper, and a wink at her.
“What was he talking about?” Harper asked as he turned to her. “When did you see Brittany?”
“After you dropped me off at Finnegan’s last night.”
“You didn’t say anything about it. Hang on for a sec.” Harper headed over to his desk. “Need to grab some files, then I’ll give you a ride to the B and B. What did Brittany say?”
Allie trailed reluctantly behind him. “Wasn’t a big deal. She came in with her posse. Asked if I was looking for another bike. Made fun of me. A flashback to the good old times.”
“What bike?”
She wasn’t in a sharing mood, but he had, for some unfathomable reason, arranged for her bond and was taking her to her room instead of a jail cell in the back, so she forced herself to be civil.
“Middle school bullshit.” She shrugged. “My father gave me a fancy new bike for my birthday. He said he got paid for a job, but in hindsight, who knows? Could just as easily have stolen it. Then he needed money a couple of months later, so he sold the bike.”
