Page 85 of Follow Me Down

How would the cops have known this?

They were clearly looking for something when they pulled us over, and they most certainly found it. But none of this makes sense. Titus isn’t a drug dealer. Hell, in the weeks that I’ve known him I’ve only ever seen him smoke marijuana once, and I smoked it with him.

This doesn’t make sense.

“Cuff ’em,” one of the officers says seconds before a hand closes around my wrist, my arm being pulled behind my back.

“Wait, what?” I cry, fear causing my knees to shake.

My eyes swing toward Titus. The third cop, a younger looking guy that stands a good foot shorter than Titus, has him pinned against the top of the car, snapping hand cuffs around each of his wrists.

His face is turned away from me so I can’t see his expression.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down,” the police officer behind me says as the cool bite of metal closes down around my wrist.

Calm down?Calm down?I’m being handcuffed right now. How the hell does he expect me to calm down?

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice trembles as I speak.

“We’ll get this all sorted out at the police station.”

“At the police station? But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The officer snaps the second cuff around my other wrist, this time closing it so tightly that I swear it cuts off the circulation to my hand.

Titus is already in the back of one cop car as the burly police officer behind me leads me to the second. I’m trembling like a leaf when he lowers my head and guides me into the backseat.

——

“What’s going on? Where’sTitus?” I stand from the small metal table in the room where I’ve been held for what feels like hours when a female officer enters the room, a cell phone clutched in her hand.

“He’s next door talking to detectives.” She closes the door behind her.

“Why? What’s going on?” I ask, panic clear in my voice.

“Here.” She extends the phone to me. “You’re free to go but you have a phone call.”

“A phone call?” I question, not sure who in the world could be on the other end to talk to me.

With shaky hands, I retrieve the small device from her hand, pressing it to my ear.

“Hello?” My voice cracks.

“Fallon.” The sound of my father’s voice on the other end makes my stomach go queasy.

“Dad,” I choke.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he instructs. “They have Mr. Driscoll on some pretty serious drug charges, but you have the power to clear his name.”

“What? How?”

“There’s a black town car waiting for you in the parking lot. When we hang up, give the phone back to Officer Purdy, gather your things, and exit the station. Get in the car.”

“What? Why?” I continue to ask one worded questions, not really processing a single thing that he’s saying.

“Get in the car. It will bring you home.”

“I... I can’t.” Emotion clogs my voice.

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