I could have opened my iPad and tried to catch up on my reading for school, but I was too antsy. Noah had been arrested. There was going to be a trial. And evidence. The prosecutor would dig deep into Noah’s life and ask him all kinds of questions.
If anyone found out about our relationship, I’d be subpoenaed. They’d ask me about our sex life, if Noah had ever gotten rough with me, if he’d ever hurt me. And even though he hadn’t ever hurt me, I knew enough about the law to realize they would make it look like he had.
The prosecutor would ply me with specific questions, like if Noah had ever left marks on my wrists, if he’d ever spanked me so hard it made my skin red. And Noah had done those things -- not in the way they’d try to paint it, but it wouldn’t matter. They’d ask me, and they wouldn’t understand about the sexual part of it, about the domination and submission. Hell, I didn’t even understand most of it.
If I lied, I could get arrested for perjury. And if that happened, I could kiss my law career good bye.
What a huge fucking mess, I thought to myself. Why couldn’t I have just fallen in love with some normal law student, the kind of guy who would study hard and get good grades and then take some boring job in corporate law? Why did I have to get involved with an older man, one with a penchant for BDSM and a tortured past?
I pulled out my phone and watched the second hand on the clock icon slowly move around the screen, willing it to move faster. Professor Worthington should have been here by now. I thought about calling him, but I didn’t want to be a pest or seem too eager. Now that Noah had been officially arrested, it was even more important for me to make sure I stayed involved in his case.
I got up and paced the room, because the energy inside of me needed somewhere to go -- I was starting to feel like I was going to scream.
“You know, he was probably taken to Central Booking,” the receptionist piped up helpfully.
I turned around. “Excuse me?”
“Central Booking. It’s where they take people after they’ve been arrested. While they wait to be arraigned.”
I took in a deep breath through my nose and resisted the urge to scream at her for not telling me that sooner. Obviously she knew I was waiting for Noah and Professor Worthington -- I’d told her that when I’d gotten here. So why would she let me sit here like some kind of fool, wasting time when Noah wasn’t even here? Although it wasn’t entirely her fault. Of course I knew clients didn’t speak with their lawyers at the police station, that once they were arrested and had their information recorded, they were sent to Central Booking. I should have known better -- when Professor Worthington had said ‘I’ll meet you there,’ he’d meant Central Booking -- but I was so frazzled I hadn’t thought of it. My total lack of forethought definitely didn’t bode well for my law career.
Get it together, Holloway, I told myself.
I ran outside and hailed a taxi while looking up the address for Central Booking on my phone. I had a frantic energy about me, and I tried to force myself to calm down, but my hands were shaking as I opened the door to the cab and gave the cabbie the address.
By the time we pulled up in front of Central Booking, I’d calmed down a little, but not much. There were a bunch of people loitering on the steps of the building, smoking and talking on their cell phones. Men in hoodies wandered around the sidewalk, looking me up and down as I walked up the front steps.
I thought about calling Professor Worthington to ask if he was here yet, ask him to come outside and walk me in, but then I told myself there was no reason to be intimidated. If I was going to be a lawyer, I was going to have to get used to doing things like this. And besides, there were tons of cops right inside the front doors -- it wasn’t like anything bad could happen to me here. The irony wasn’t lost on me – here I was, going inside to voluntarily look for a man who’d been accused of murder, all the while being afraid of the people outside.
No one gave me a hard time as I walked past, all of them busy on their cell phones, probably calling lawyers or bail bondsmen as they tried to help their relatives and friends on the inside.
The inside of Central Booking was nothing like the police station. At the police station, even with the curt receptionist, you could sense a certain kind of order, a certain kind of safety. The people at the police station were there to fill out reports, or answer questions, or provide information. The police station hummed with activity, but it was a kind of controlled activity. You could tell whatever was going on there was serious and somber, but at the same time, it had a certain rightness to it that made it feel like it was the normal order of society.
Whatever was happening at Central Booking had nothing to do with normalcy. The walls were grey and the paint was peeling badly, the linoleum scuffed and in serious need of repair. I could smell the stench of urine and hear the clanging of bars coming from somewhere far away. Down the hallway, about a hundred feet or so, I could see the shadow of a man in handcuffs being led into a cell.
“I didn’t do that shit! I’m high, man, I’m on the junk!” he was screaming as two officers held onto him. His skinny limbs went akimbo as he twisted and turned as the officers threw him into a cell. The sound of groans followed the clink of the bars, the people already in the holding cell obviously not approving of their new neighbor.
“Can I help you?” a uniformed office asked from the other side of the metal detector.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to see Noah Cutler. I’m part of his legal team.” I purposefully left out the part about me not being a lawyer. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I imagined Noah back in that cell, crowded in with all those crazy people. I wondered what would happen if his mouth got him into trouble. Would they come after him? Did they have weapons in there? Was it like prison where you could get in fights and the corrections officers might not do anything about it?
“Has he been arrested?” the officer asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
“What was the date?”
“Um, today. Just about an hour ago.”
The officer sighed and shook his head. “An hour ago? Honey, no one gets out of Central Booking in an hour. Your client is going to have to be arraigned before he’s even ready for bail, and that’s going to be – ”
But before he could finish, Noah appeared in front of us, looking no worse for the wear. His coat was immaculate, his hair still perfectly styled, his stride commanding and purposeful.
When he saw me, his face darkened. “Charlotte,” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” I asked. “I came to find you!” I looked behind him for and officer or someone escorting him out, but there was no one.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, grabbing me by the arm and leading me out the door and down the stairs, through the throng of people that were still congregating on the steps.
Once we were around the corner, he pulled out his cell phone and put it to his ear. “Jared,” he said. “I’m ready.” He ended the call and slid it back into his pocket. “Charlotte, I told you to call Worthington, not to come down to Central Booking. Are you insane?”
I looked at him, aghast. “Am I insane? No, Noah, I’m not insane. I did call Professor Worthington, and he told me to meet him here.”