Page 7 of Burned
~5~
Axe
I wasn’t a stranger to being handcuffed and thrown in the back seat of a police car, but it still baffled me as to why. The officer said I was being arrested in connection with the explosion of Margot’s bookstore. I had nothing to do with it. Getting any kind of information from these two bozos was useless. Both of them appeared to be new cadets from the police academy who were probably given instructions to take me in and nothing more.
Once we got to the police station, the officer who rode shotgun opened the back door to the police car and helped me out. His grip on my arm was tight, but not powerful enough to showcase his authority or offer him any deserved respect. He might have earned the badge he wore on his chest, but only years of committed service to protect got my vote.
After I had gone through the booking process, I requested the one call I was allowed and called Davian. Dialing the only number I had memorized, I punched in the number to the warehouse and waited for someone to pick up.
It didn’t matter who answered, I just began talking, “This is Axe. Tell Davian that I’ve been arrested. I’m being held at the police department off Monroe. Let him know I need a lawyer.”
“Jesus Christ, Axe,” Patton said in an Atlanta accent I would know anywhere. “Do you know what they are holding you for?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but I have a good idea it has to do with the bookstore explosion.”
When I finished the call, another officer led me to a small room with a small table, three chairs, and a two-way mirror, which allowed whoever was on the other side to witness the interrogation.
One thing I knew for sure, once the interrogation began, I was smart enough to request my attorney before getting hit with questions I didn’t want to answer. Even though technically I didn’t have one, requesting one would delay answering any of their questions.
After handcuffing me to the metal bar secured to the table, the officer left the room. As I sat alone with only my thoughts as company, I tried to figure out what evidence they could have against me that would warrant them arresting me.
I heard the door open, and I focused my sights on an overweight middle-aged man as he walked through the door. He was holding a manilla folder which more than likely contained the bogus evidence they had against me. Before taking a seat, he pulled out the chair across from me and placed the folder on the table. Shaking his head back and forth, he met my eyes with an arrogant expression spread across his face. “Mr. Riley, it looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a heap of trouble,” he said as he opened the folder.
I looked down at the opened folder, staring at what was left of Margot’s bookstore. Even though I didn’t press the button on the detonator, I felt responsible for the destruction. This was Wilkerson’s doing. He knew me well enough to know that I wouldn’t go through with his request. The police finding evidence against me was his doing, too. No way was I going to say anything until I knew for sure what they had against me.
“The way I see it,” the detective began. “The only option for you is to admit that the explosion was your idea, and just maybe, if you tell us who else was involved, the judge might go a little light on your sentence.”
Blowing up Margot’s bookstore was far from my idea. If this detective thought he would get a confession, he was dead wrong. “Is that what the information inside that folder is telling you?”
“The evidence doesn’t lie, Mr. Riley. We found a print on an explosive device found inside the building. Thanks to your military tenure, we were able to match the print. It was yours.”
There was no disputing that my prints were on file, but no way were my prints on the explosive device used to blow up the bookstore. I hadn’t made a bomb in ten years. If the investigative team lifted my print, then someone put it there.
Before I could say another word, the door swung open. Davian and another man wearing an expensive suit entered the room. “Don’t say another word, Axe,” the man said as he looked at the detective. “I am Mr. Riley’s attorney and will represent him, so if you have any questions, you can direct them toward me.”
The expression on the detective’s face fell flat as he closed the folder. Looking over at the man claiming to be my attorney, the detective said, “Maybe you can convince your client to cooperate. Mr. Riley is facing several felony charges, including manslaughter.”
“Manslaughter?” Davian, my attorney, and I choked together.
“Yes, manslaughter. The fire department found the remains of an unidentified male in the back room of the bookstore,” the detective offered—a smug expression on his face.
“Do they know who this man was?” Davian asked.
The detective reluctantly opened the folder. Licking his index finger, he began thumbing through the documents. “Since I’m feeling a little generous, I will let you know that we have not identified the man… yet. Once the autopsy is complete, I’m sure we will have an ID on him.”
~
Three days had passed since my arrest. Three days alone in a six-by-eight cell gave me more than enough time to think. In two days, I would have my bail hearing, which would allow me to get out of here, at least until the trial. The autopsy finally identified the man killed in the explosion. His name was Zach Turner. He was a part-time employee and wasn’t supposed to be working. My attorney, Felix Shields, said Zach must have arrived at the bookstore after we got Margot to safety. The bookstore was empty, according to Margot, when Marcus and Calvin took her out.
Finishing the last of my three sets of push-ups, I thought about how I loved the way my arms burned after a good workout. I was just about ready to start on crunches when the prison guard showed up outside my cell. “You have a visitor,” he said rudely, his arms crossed at his chest.
I got to my feet, grabbed my inmate shirt from my bed, and pulled it over my head. The guard slid the cell door open and waited for me to step out. Maybe the person who came to visit me would bring good news. My bail hearing was still two days away, but maybe it got moved up. Getting out of here today would make my day.
When I entered the visitation area, to my surprise, Davian sat on the other side of the partition. He looked tired, but more than that, stressed. Taking a seat, I lifted the phone from its cradle and put it to my ear. “I’m glad to see you, boss, but I’m sure this isn’t a social visit.”
“We think we might know where Kenzi is. Patton has been keeping tabs on all the airports, bus stations, and train stations in the event River Stevenson took her out of Georgia. Turns out his private jet left Atlanta two days ago. We can’t be sure if Kenzi was with him, but since the plane landed in Chicago, there is a good possibility that she was.”
“I need to get the fuck out of here. You and I both know I didn’t blow up Margot’s bookstore, and that Wilkerson set me up.” My words came out harsher than necessary, but I hated feeling helpless and being in this hell-hole instead of outside getting to the woman I loved.
