Fighting to be Free by Kirsty Moseley (49 page)

I walked the couple of steps to the wall and leant against it before slumping down and pulling my knees up to my chest. All I could think about was Ellie and how much she was going to hate me for screwing everything up. It was probably now about four in the morning and I was supposed to pick her up in less than seven hours so that we could go to the airport and start our new lives. Instead, everything had changed because of one stupid night. Even though he was dead, the resentment started to build against Brett because I wasn’t even supposed to be there tonight; if he hadn’t forced me then I wouldn’t be in this situation now, facing jail and a life without the girl that I loved. But I couldn’t hate him though, I actually really liked the guy and although he’d done bad things in his life, he deserved better than to die in a dusty old workshop. I was really going to miss him.

…...................................

A click of the door lock made me look up and stop fiddling with the zip on my hoodie. I’d been here forever already; it felt like hours that I’d been pacing around the room like a caged animal. I had no idea what the time was though because they’d taken my watch. The grey walls of the eight foot cell were driving me crazy as I struggled to remain composed and not smash everything up in frustration.

The door opened to reveal a new cop that I hadn’t seen before. “Jamie Cole, your turn for questioning,” he muttered, motioning with his hand for me to walk out.

I sighed with relief that I would get to step outside of the cell and see something other than the grey walls. I even welcomed the questioning because that would give me something else to think about.

“What time is it?” I asked curiously.

“Just before six,” he muttered as I walked to his side. Wow, had I seriously only been here for two hours? It felt like an eternity already. His hand clamped on my arm tightly. “Am I going to have to put cuffs on you, or are you going to behave?”

I smiled. “I’ll behave,” I confirmed. I’d always respected authority, I’d done wrong, I’d been caught, that was all there was to it really. These guys were just doing their jobs. He nodded, looking a little weary as he guided me out of the cell and down the narrow hallway. I could hear people shouting inside the other holding cells as we passed them. I recognised one voice as Byron; he was ranting and banging around inside his cell, screaming about the inhumanity of being locked up with no windows. I stifled a laugh - from what I remembered of him, the guy was claustrophobic.

My surroundings didn’t really register as we weaved through the station, cops passed, not making eye contact with me - obviously because I was scum - and the detainees that I saw were all too busy with their own worry to think about me or pay me any attention. Finally we got to a wooden door with a strip stuck on it labelled ‘Interrogation Room 6’. The cop opened it and motioned for me to go inside.

Inside the room was a desk with four chairs around it, a tape recording system and nothing else. My eyes flitted to the wall of what appeared to be mirrored glass. The cop I was with pointed to one of the chairs, instructing me to sit and that my interrogating officer would be here shortly. I slumped down into the chair, unable to resist sending a little wave in the direction of the glass wall, knowing there would probably be people in there watching me.

The door opened seconds later and a young, scrawny looking guy in a cheap suit came in, shuffling papers as he walked, dropping most of them onto the floor. I sighed. Defence attorneys really were a pile of shit, and this guy was my only chance out of here? I was screwed already.

“Mr Cole, I’m Darren Sanders, your court appointed attorney, I’ll be representing you,” he greeted as he bumbled his way into the room, extending his hand towards me.

I nodded, shaking his hand. “Great. This should be an open a shut case then. I imagine I’ll be home in time for breakfast,” I muttered sarcastically.

He frowned, pushing his glasses up his beaky nose. “I don’t think so. You have a lot of charges against you, I think the breakfast target is a little overly optimistic,” he replied obviously not getting my humour.

I blew out a big breath and sat back in my chair, closing my eyes. “Right. I’ll let my hopes fall back down then, for a second I was confident that you’d get me off all charges and I would be free to go on my merry way.”

The chair scraped next to me, more papers shuffled. “Let’s get started going through everything. We only have half an hour before they come in to start their questioning, I need you to tell me in your own words what happened tonight,” he instructed, his voice shaking as he spoke. I looked up at him curiously, maybe he wasn’t used to working cases like this - he looked fairly young, for all I knew this could have been his first case.

I sighed, deciding on what I could let this guy in on and what I would keep back. Usually in this situation I would just answer everything with ‘no comment’ so that I didn’t drop anyone else in anything, but to be honest, with Brett dead there was no one to really protect anymore. Everyone would be facing the same charges as me, and we were all going down for it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but a knock at the door interrupted us. A cop poked his head in, smiling apologetically. “Mr Sanders, sorry to interrupt but Mr Cole’s private appointed attorney has just arrived to take over the case.”

I frowned. My appointed attorney? I didn’t have an appointed attorney which is why I was stuck with this little imbecile.

“Oh really? I was called to represent Mr Cole. Why was I called if he already had someone?” my guy asked, standing up and looking confused and more than a little put out.

The cop shrugged. “We weren’t aware that he had one. Mr Barrington has just arrived at the station and is demanding council with his client.”

Mr Barrington? As in, Brett’s attorney, the hardass? A little smile twitched at the corner of my lips as my heart leap into my throat, maybe there was a chance I’d be home in time for breakfast….

The guy that had just settled himself down at my table started grumbling under his breath about time-wasters and hotshot, overpriced attorneys thinking they’re above everyone else. He picked up his papers and marched out of the room without so much as even looking at me again. As he stepped out of the room, in stepped a guy I’d never met. His black suit looked tailored and expensive. His blonde hair was styled perfectly even though he’d probably been woken up to come down here tonight. He stood with a confidence and self-assuredness that only came from knowing you were better than everyone else around you.

He stepped into the room and turned back to the police officer that had interrupted. “I expect that,” he waved his hand to the mirrored wall, “to be empty. Ensure you turn on the light in there so I can be sure that my private meeting with my client isn’t being viewed,” he instructed.

The cop frowned, not looking too impressed. “Absolutely,” he agreed, his voice harsh and annoyed.

He stepped out of the room leaving us on our own. I stood up and opened my mouth to speak, but he held up one hand signalling for me to wait. Seconds later the mirrored glass disappeared and you could see through it like a window as someone flicked on the light in there. An empty room was the other side, chairs and recording equipment was set up pointing in here. Mr Barrington peered inside curiously before turning back to me and smiling sadly.

“I expect that you’re confused as to why I’m here for you,” he said, walking around the table and sitting down.

I nodded in confirmation, noticing that he wasn’t bumbling with papers like the previous guy; I guess that just showed his superiority in some ways. “Yeah, I didn’t call you.”

He nodded, looking me over curiously. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Brett and I were old friends so I’ve heard about you for years. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he stated. I frowned, unsure as to what to say. Did he know that Brett had died tonight? As if sensing my question, he answered it. “I got a call from a good friend in the police informing me that Brett had been killed. Naturally I asked about the situation, and as soon as they mentioned your name I rushed down here. Brett told me that I should look after you if you ever needed me, so here I am.”

I gulped. “Oh,” was all I could manage.

He smiled sadly. “I know you and Brett got on well, he thought a great deal of you. He’d be saddened to know you were here right now. I understood from him that you were getting out of this life, and leaving to do some travelling. With my son’s ex-girlfriend no less,” he said, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands together tightly.

I nodded. “Yeah, we’re supposed to go today. I don’t suppose you can wave a magic wand over all of this and get me out of here so I could still do that?” I asked hopefully. Even if he could just get me out of police custody, maybe I could try and leave the country or something if they let me out ‘pending investigation’. Well, that’s if they didn’t seize my passport that is.

He frowned and shook his head. “I wish I could, Jamie. I promised Brett that I’d always do my best for you, and I will, but this isn’t something that will just blow over.” He sighed and reached down, grabbing a leather briefcase, setting it on the desk, popping the latch and opening it. He pulled out a case file and set it down, flicking through it. “They’ve been watching Brett for a while because one of his staff got involved in a GTA, we knew that, but I had it from reliable sources that they weren’t making any moves on Brett at this time. It appears where I wasn’t informed was that there was a sting operation that was following the Lazlos tonight, and it just so happened that it involved Brett.

I think the police were very happy to have stumbled upon Brett in that meeting, meaning that they took down two birds with one stone so to speak.”

I snorted. So this all came about because the police were trying to arrest the Lazlos and we were all just in the way? A lucky convenience to take down a local organisation at the same time? Well aren’t their superiors going to be happy with them, I thought sarcastically. “Well aren’t they all lucky,” I snorted.

He smiled. “Quite,” he agreed. “So, I’ve been speaking to the officer in charge of the raid tonight, he’s an old golfing buddy of mine too so I’m privy to a lot of things that I shouldn’t be,” he continued.

“Okay, and that means what?” I asked, trying to stay positive but his slumped shoulders told me that this wasn’t good news.

“Well, they had hidden recording equipment at the meeting tonight. As far as your charges are concerned, they have you on tape talking and planning auto thefts, being present and part of a drug deal, possession of a firearm, and resisting arrest. Now, you don’t need to worry about the car stuff too much, that’s all circumstantial, you mention no details about previous jobs, you don’t brag about jobs undertaken in the past or mention conquests. The talk is just that, just talk, so they can’t charge you with that,” he said confidently. “However, now that they know you’re into that kind of thing, they’ll start looking into other unsolved car crimes more closely to try and link them to you.”

I groaned. So because I mentioned stealing cars, they were now going to try and pin all unsolved car thefts on me? Great, just freaking great! “So, aside from them now investigating car stuff and me, I’m actually facing drug charges, possession of a firearm and resisting arrest?” I asked, wincing.

He nodded. “At this time, yes,” he confirmed.

“So I’m screwed!” I cried, shaking my head. “I’m already on probation.”

He reached over and patted my shoulder. “I’m going to do everything I can for you. I’m pretty confident that if I pull a few strings, make a couple of deals, I can get the drug charges dropped.

You have flights booked for tomorrow with your girlfriend, if I pull that card that you were getting out of this stuff, then I believe I can dismiss those charges with the help of some friends.”

“Really?” I asked hopefully. If he could that would significantly reduce the amount of shit I was in, well, until they linked me to the millions of dollars’ worth of cars that I’d boosted!

He nodded. “As for the firearm,” he stated. “You had that on you at the time of arrest?” I nodded in confirmation. “You had your weapon drawn?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, I didn’t draw it the whole time. It was tucked down the back of my pants,” I answered.

He raised one eyebrow looking extremely pleased. “So you didn’t partake in the gun battle?”

“No.”

He smiled. “Ballistics reports will be able to confirm that you didn’t fire upon the police. Resisting arrest should be easy enough to dismiss too. But there’s only so much I can do. I’m going to have to give them something in return.”

“Meaning what?” I asked, confused.

He frowned, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, if they start trying to link you with unsolved GTAs, then things are going to get a lot worse for you. Now that they have you on record admitting it, the slightest piece of evidence surrounding the theft of a car will be linked with you and charges will be filed. So, what I’m proposing is a deal,” he explained. I nodded for him to continue, eager to hear what I was hoping to be some kind of mastermind plan. “You plead guilty to possession of a firearm, you tell them where you got it from, and in exchange I’ll pull some strings and the car investigation will disappear into thin air.”

I licked my dry lips, thinking about it. Either way I was screwed, I was going down for something, so I guess it was better to plead guilty to possession of a firearm than it was to go down for hundreds of counts of grand theft auto as well. “So what will that mean?” I asked curiously.

He sighed. “Usually twenty-four to thirty-six months in prison.”

I felt my body jerk at his words as my chest tightened and I struggled to breathe properly. Two to three years in prison? “Oh shit,” I mumbled.

He nodded sadly. “Plus your time that you were let out on good behaviour,” he added. “But I should be able to get that all reduced, but you’ll serve a minimum of a year.”

Ellie. What the hell was I supposed to tell Ellie? The thought of going inside again was terrifying, I would have no idea what to expect considering that it’d be proper jail this time, not juvie like last time. Plus, I would have to cope with not seeing her everyday. How was I supposed to get through that this time knowing what I’d lost? Last time it was a breeze because I had nothing waiting for me on the outside, this time the only thing that mattered to me, would be outside and I’d be stuck in on my own.