Page 16 of Dean Daddy

This sounds like the best and fastest way to put this issue to bed, but I don’t know if I want to ask Marcie to get involved in this. She did nothing to cause this problem, and it’s not her job to protect me.

“What do you say we have your stepsister come down and file a report? That way we can have your handsy student brought in for questioning and get this ball rolling.”

“I appreciate it. I really do but I don’t know if I want to do that,” I tell him.

He leans back in his chair and says, “That makes me question the truthfulness of what you just told me. I mean, you’re not just talking about facing criminal charges here. You’re talking about losing your job. Even if you were acquitted, you don’t think they’ll keep you in position when word gets out that you struck a student, do you? You’ll probably have a hard time getting a teaching job anywhere, too. This is your future we’re talking about, and you don’t want to get her involved?”

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I can’t protect Marcie from jail and I can’t provide for her if I can’t get a job, so I nod my approval and he hands me the phone.

“Make your one phone call. Get her down here, asap.”

10

TWO WRONGS

MARCIE

My face still stings from my tears as I wait for the bus to take me back to my apartment. A hot, sticky rain has begun to fall, but it can’t wash away the guilt that I feel. No matter what Mason says, this mess is all my fault.

The idea breaks me, but I can’t help but think that I never should have come here. As amazing as my time with Mason has been, I have potentially ruined his career with my presence. This epiphany leads me to another terrifying thought. Maybe my mother was right.

My phone chimes in my jacket pocket and I pull it out, nearly dropping it in a puddle of freshly fallen rain. The local police department’s information displays on my screen and I answer, expecting some nameless detective to demand that I come in for questioning.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hey, baby. It’s me,” I hear Mason’s voice and my heart stops in my chest.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” the words hang in my throat and choke me.

“I’m fine. Listen, the police chief wants me to call and ask you for a favor, but I’m not going to do that. I just wanted to hear your voice and to let you know that everything will be okay.”

“What favor? Is there something that I can do to help? I’ll do anything.”

“Just be there when I get out tomorrow. Knowing that I can put my arms around you again is the only thing that I need. I have to go. Be careful going home, love.”

“Mason, wait. I want to help you.”

“You just did, baby. Good night.”

He disconnects the call and I stare down at my phone as the bus arrives and the driver opens the door. I look up at him as I contemplate my next move then hold my hand up and say, “No, thanks. I changed my mind.” I turn around and walk back toward the covered entrance to the college.

I have just enough money left on my debit card to pay for cab fare and a light dinner so I order a ride to the police station.

* * *

My hands are shakingas I enter the cold, ominous building. I approach the information desk and have to shout through the bulletproof glass at the officer inside. “I’d like to speak to the Chief of Police, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the officer asks through pursed lips.

“No, sir, but I was told that he wanted to speak to me. My name is Marcella Brown. I’m here about the arrest of Mason Mitchell,” I tell him.

“Stay there,” he commands me.

He picks up the phone and speaks into it but I can’t hear what he’s saying. After a brief conversation, he looks at me and nods his head. After he ends the call, he says, “Wait here. Someone is coming for you.”

My momentary sense of relief quickly morphs into a feeling of panic. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Mason told me that he didn’t want me to involve myself, but if there’s anything I can do to help him, I’d do it. In seconds, a tall, round, older man approaches me and I become a bundle of nervous energy. “Keep it together,” I whisper to myself.

“Ms. Brown, I’m Chief Dixon. If you’ll come with me, we can talk in my office,” he shakes my hand and leads me down a long, empty corridor.

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