Read The Pulse Series (Book 1): Pulse Online

Authors: Steven Laidlaw

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The Pulse Series (Book 1): Pulse (6 page)

BOOK: The Pulse Series (Book 1): Pulse
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Trey and I spent the ten minute ride in the back of the police car looking straight ahead with our mouths shut. We had talked about this often, and had made a deal not to ever talk to the police. It was a mutual pact that I was holding to, and I hoped Trey would do the same.

The lock to the door clicked bringing my eyes up as it swung open. Two men entered, neither of whom wore a uniform. The first man was a large, dark-skinned man. He was well built, tall, and his is head was completely devoid of hair except for his eyebrows. His age, combined with the rest of his face, made me think that was a style choice rather than a biological imperative to shave his head. The other was a thin Caucasian man with a neatly trimmed beard. He didn't look at me as he walked in, instead turning around to lock the door behind him and lean against the frame.

The black man frowned as he looked at me, and made his way around to the back of my chair. He unlocked the cuffs, rounding the table to sit opposite me. I rubbed my wrists and settled back into my chair now that I didn't have to keep my back straight. I looked up at the other man who had pressed himself into the corner and was glaring at me. He had one foot up flat against the wall behind him and was biting the nail on one of his fingers. He tore a piece free and spat to the side, never taking his eyes off me the entire time.

The man in front of me cleared his throat. "My name is Detective Roberts, and this," he said nodding toward the standing man, "is Detective Rubin."

I said nothing, but stared at Roberts and waited for him to begin talking. After a few seconds he gave me a small smile and tilted his head to the side. "Care to introduce yourself?"

I stared at him, not saying anything. After a few seconds Rubin snickered. "Little girl thinks she's brave. We're just being polite. Your friend has already given us everything."

I turned to look at him, a frown on my face. "You're ly-" I caught myself and stopped talking. The fact that they didn't know my name was proof of the fact that he was lying. I wasn't about to be goaded into talking as easy as that.

Detective Roberts sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Look, kid, I want you to throw us a bone here. You've been caught red handed with twenty thousand dollars worth of heroin. That is well beyond intent to sell. We also know that you and your friend were involved in a shootout in the middle of the city yesterday evening. You must have run past a hundred cameras. What did you think you weren't going to get caught?"

I winced, but kept my mouth shut. The longer I could hold out the more time I would have to come up with a plan.

Roberts leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "Look the drugs are one thing, but it's the shootout we're interested in. People have been killed."

I looked up at him in shock, and before I could help it words started coming out. "Someone died?"

Robert's studied my expression with a small frown. "You didn't know?"

I shook my head.

"Bullshit." Rubin look down at me in disgust. "It's been all over the news. There is no damn way she doesn't know what happened."

I looked back to Roberts. His mouth formed a thin line. "Look I'm assuming you stole those drugs from someone important, but that's not the real issue here. When those men shot at you and your friend three bystanders were hit. Two were treated for minor wounds, but the other took a bullet to the neck. He was in surgery for twelve hours, but didn't pull through. He died just a few hours ago."

I slumped down into my chair. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, least of all some innocent person who had just been going about their day. I felt my eyes burn, but this wasn't the time or the place to start breaking down.

Roberts sighed. "Look the drugs are a thing. A big thing, don't get me wrong, but it's clear you're not a serial offender. If you can help us get ahold of the men who had been chasing you we might be able to do something about your sentence. Aside from that? You're looking at a lot of prison time. So help us out here. Give us something we can work with."

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I didn't know what to do. Trey and I had always talked about keeping silent to make sure we didn't incriminate ourselves or each other in any way, but we had never talked about what to do in a situation like this. I don't think either of us ever thought that we would be in a situation where someone had gotten hurt.

After a minute of silence Detective Rubin started to get impatient. "Look kid either you give us some info or we slam you. You had enough drugs on you to score twenty years, regardless of your age. It's a no-brainer. Your friend is already working out a deal, so why don't you?"

I felt my jaw clench. I knew Trey hadn't betrayed me, so that meant they were lying to me. If they lied to me about Trey then perhaps they were lying about everything else too. I felt my resolve harden, and I looked up at Detective Roberts. "No."

He watched me for a few seconds before coming to some internal conclusion. He sighed and nodded toward Rubin, who smirked and turned to open the door. A uniformed officer came into the room and stood me up, handcuffing my wrists behind my back again.

"Let's see how you feel after a night in one of our cells. We will talk again in the morning and you can let us know if you've had a change of heart."

As the officer led me out of the room we passed Rubin who smiled at me again. "See you later, Alex."

A chill ran through me. I tried to stop, to turn back, but the man who was holding me by the arms kept me facing forward as we walked away from the interrogation room. They had known my name. Trey had given them my name. Had he given them anything else? Was what they said true? Was he really working out a deal with them right now? I shivered and shook my head. This couldn't be happening. Trey and I had always had the pact. He was the only person I had ever trusted. Was he breaking that trust right now to secure his freedom?

I was torn out of my thoughts as the officer pushed me into a cell and slid the door shut behind me. He reached through the bars and took off my handcuffs. I looked around the cell and was relieved to find it was empty. There were three solid walls around me with no windows. I had to assume there were more cells either side of me, but I hadn't even noticed as I had come into the room. The room had its own small toilet, sink, and bed, all of which were made of solid metal. I turned back toward the officer to ask about food, but he was already closing the door behind him as he left the entrance to the holding cell area.

I sat down on the bed and tried to think. Should I talk to them? What would happen if I did? Even if all the charges were dropped they would take me back to my mother. I couldn't go back there. Not after what happened with Chuck. He would kill me. I had to find a way out of this. There had to be something I could do. I found myself curling up into a ball against the wall of the cell. Had we really been the cause of a man's death? I hadn't pulled any triggers, but the fact was that if we didn't try to steal anything then there wouldn't have been any chase, or any shots fired. This was bigger than Trey and me, but I still couldn't imagine breaking his trust. At least not until I knew for sure what he had told them.

I felt my eyes grow heavy as the events of the past twenty-four hours caught up to me. Oddly enough I felt safer here than I did at Trey's. At least I could sleep here without having to worry about anyone doing anything to me while I was defenseless. Still I tried to fight my grogginess, but the last two days without sleep was catching up to me and it wasn't long before darkness engulfed me and I was fast asleep.

***

I woke to a tapping noise. I panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings and, without thinking, pushed myself up against the wall as far into the corner as I could muster. It took me a few moments to remember where I was, and what I was doing here. I shivered and pushed myself out of the corner to sit back on the metal bed. My body ached from my injuries and the poor sleeping conditions, but I stretched anyway to a chorus of popping and cracking from my bones. I yawned, still groggy from sleep, and looked through the bars into the hallway outside of the cell. The place was dim, but not completely dark. Small lights set in the roof along the hallway were lit enough to provide a small amount of light to navigate by.

The tapping continued. I pressed my face up against the bars to see as far as I could down the hall, but couldn't make out anything. The noise had to be coming from inside one of the other cells.

I took a breath and stepped back from the bars of the cell. "Who's there?"

The tapping stopped. "I was wondering if you would ever wake up." The voice was male, but I couldn't tell how old the speaker was.

"You were trying to wake me?"

The man laughed, a short chuckle, and the tapping started up again. "Yes and no. I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. When they brought me in here I saw you sleeping in the cell there."

I sighed. "How long ago did they bring you in?"

"About an hour."

I walked over to the sink and splashed some water into my face. There weren't any washcloths so I sat back down on my bed and leaned forward to let the water drop into a pool on the floor.

"I'm Bradley," the voice from the cell next to me said.

"That's nice."

The tapping paused again. "Really? I went through all this effort to wake you up and you're not even going to talk to me?"

"You act like an ass and expect civility?"

Bradley laughed. "Touche."

I frowned. "Why would they even put you in here? Aren't there like separate facilities for male and female prisoners?"

"These are just holding cells. Temporary places they keep people overnight. Drunks and the like get to sleep off their stupidness, usually."

"You don't sound drunk."

"I'm not in here for drinking."

I bit my lip, curiosity getting the better of me. "So why are you here?"

Bradley chuckled and I heard the sound of movement. "Now, now. Quid pro quo. I at least want a name before I start confessing my sins."

I felt a small smile tug at my lips, and couldn't help feeling lighter. This man's playfulness was infectious.

"Well?"

I put on a dramatic sigh. "I'm Alex."

I could hear the smile in his voice. "It's nice to meet you, Alex. I'm in here for getting into a fist fight outside a bar."

"I thought you said you weren't drunk?"

"On the contrary, I said I wasn't in here for drinking, not that I wasn't drunk. Although I am not drunk, and in fact haven't been drinking at all. The gentleman I has the disagreement with was most definitely drunk though."

I laughed. "So what was the fight about?"

Bradley's sigh came right off a Broadway play. "Alas, the man made disparaging remarks about my attire. I rebutted with comments about his mother. Things devolved from there until he hit me."

I shook my head. "If he started the fight then why are you the one in lockup?"

"Because I ended it. Convincingly." There was no trace of conceit in his voice. He was just stating a fact.

I took a few breaths before replying. "I see."

Bradley cleared his throat, and his jovial manner returned. "Enough about me. I'm yet to hear anything about the lovely Alex. Why are you in here?"

I felt my stomach drop as I remembered why I was here. The past few minutes of conversation had done well to distract me, but when tomorrow morning came Bradley would be walking out of here and I wouldn't. Judging by the living condition, and stories I'd heard about life in prison, I might never walk out of one of these places again.

I sighed and looked up at the wall where I imagined Bradley would be if I could see him. "I made some mistakes."

"I see."

I tried to laugh, but the sound died in my throat. "I got someone killed."

A long pause followed before Bradley took a deep breath and began speaking again. "Feel like telling me the story?"

Should I tell this man? It would feel nice to get it off my chest. I nodded to myself. There could be no harm. I went through what had happened to me, from being attacked by my mom's boyfriend to getting caught with a bag full of drugs. Bradley was quiet through my whole speech. Once I was done I could hear him begin pacing in his cell.

"And now you blame yourself for that man's death?"

"My actions set in motion those events. If not for me that situation would never have arisen."

"From what you've told me you didn't really have any other options there."

I shrugged, and remembering he couldn't see me said, "I guess."

"Look," Bradley said, "I don't know you from a bar of soap, but I can tell you're not a bad person."

"I steal from people to make a living."

Bradley paused a few beats before answering. "I stand by my statement. People do what they can to survive, but you obviously don't set out to hurt others. What happened to that man wasn't your fault."

I tried to snap back at him that he didn't know me, but the words died before I could get them out. He wasn't my enemy here. "Look, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

A few minutes passed in silence before curiosity tugged at me again. "How old are you? I can tell from your voice that you're not an old man, but it's surprisingly hard to gauge age from voice alone."

Before Bradley could respond a loud clicking sound signified the lock on the door at the end of the hall being electronically disengaged. I stood and walked to the edge of my cage to watch. A small buzzer sounded and the door swung open revealing Detective Rubin who strode down the hallway toward my cell. He stopped in front of me. "Place your hands behind your back and put them against the bars."

"What's going on?"

His lip twisted. "Now."

I sighed and turned around and waited for him to cuff me. Once I was secure he opened the door and let me through. On the way out I walked passed Bradley's cell. He was tall and muscular, wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. His short, messy hair was a deep brown, but his eyes were what gave me pause. They were a dark gray that radiated intelligence and humor. He couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than me.

BOOK: The Pulse Series (Book 1): Pulse
2.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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