I laugh and cringe a little too. “I think the word these days is bisexual. Or pansexual,” I offer.
“Well, whatever you want to be called is up to you, and I’m sorry to hear about you and Dakota. I liked her quite a bit, but if she doesn’t make my Faith happy, then she doesn’t make me happy.”
This is a moment I want to treasure and remember forever, because I know my days with Grandma Lou are numbered, but all I can think of is Colleen in that bed, and her sister, still searching for her.
I don’t know if I can save Colleen. Or anyone else who might be there, but I have to try. I have to talk to Ches. If she’s embroiled in A+, maybe she knows something that will help me, or at the very least I can warn her that this situation is much bigger and scarier than she knows.
After Grandma Lou goes to bed, I open my bedroom door and climb out onto the roof. What’s the point of flying if you can’t sneak out of your room to do it at least once? At least that’s what I tell my brimming uncertainty. After zipping up my jacket, I make a running leap off the roof and begin to fly toward the jail, ignoring the tension coiling in my chest. I’ve never actually visited someone in jail before, but there’s a first time for everything.
I decide to land a block from the police station, since they probably have security cameras in the parking lot. Inside the police station, a younger white officer with her auburn hair wrapped in a low bun at the nape of her neck sits with a pen in hand, jotting something down, a phone cradled in the crook of her neck. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Yes, ma’am. Well, this is a nonemergency number, but even then, ducks in your hot tub is more of an animal control issue, but I’m sure if you just leave the ducks—” She holds a finger up for me to wait just a moment. “Hello? Ma’am?” She pulls the phone back and stares at it.
I stand there for a few moments as she jots down a few notes and signs off on some kind of form. Finally, she looks up and, with a sigh, asks, “Are you here to report a crime?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m here to see an inmate.”
“Unless you’re the youngest lawyer in the state, you’ll have to wait for the inmate to get transferred to county.”
This would be so much easier if Ches didn’t have an early birthday and hadn’t turned eighteen in August. If she was still a minor, I bet she would’ve already been released to her mom or something.
This cop seems pretty tough, but I’m not budging until I see Ches. I look at her badge. “Officer Taylor? Can you at least tell me if my friend is here? Her name is Francesca Palmer. She was arrested a few days ago and she’s waiting to see the judge again.”
“I said it once, but I’ll say it again. Unless you’re her lawyer—”
“Faith?” asks a voice I recognize from behind Officer Taylor. “Faith? Is everything all right?”
Detective Wallace sidles up beside Officer Taylor. I haven’t seen or spoken with her since the night at the corn maze, which makes me wonder if she’s gotten any further on what happened to Gretchen.
“I’m trying to visit my friend. Her name is Francesca Palmer.”
She nods and leans in closer to me. “That girl’s your friend?” She lets out a low whistle. “DA is coming down hard on anything that has a whiff of that A+ stuff. If your friend knows anything, she should talk and get herself a deal.”
“I have to see her,” I say with absolute desperation.
Detective Wallace looks to Officer Taylor, who shrugs and says, “Your funeral.”
Detective Wallace opens a swinging gate for me to walk through. “I can give you five minutes. Follow me.”
It takes everything I have not to squeal and hug Detective Wallace, but I suck in a deep breath and gather myself. Detective Wallace doesn’t strike me as a hugger. And Officer Taylor is definitely not a hugger.
I follow Detective Wallace through a maze of desks, some of which are occupied, but mostly ten o’clock on a Monday night in Glenwood seems like a pretty quiet time at the police station.
Down a hallway and a few turns later, Detective Wallace takes me to a desk, where she waves to the officer behind the counter and signs me in. She flashes her card at a panel above the door handle before leading me into one of those rooms, just like I’ve seen in countless movies, that’s divided in half by Plexiglas with tables, chairs, and phones on either side. It’s actually kind of cool to even see one of these rooms in real life, and if this weren’t such an awful situation, it might actually be sort of fun.
Detective Wallace has me wait at the second chair. “I’ll be right outside. You’ve got five minutes.”
I nod. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
I wait in silence for about ten minutes before the door on the other side of the glass swings open and Ches shuffles in with an officer close behind her. I expect her to be cuffed, but she’s not. Her hair is shiny with grease and pulled back into a floppy ponytail. I barely recognize her without her perfectly smudged eyeliner. The most shocking thing, however, are the bright orange scrubs they’ve given her to wear. Definitely not Ches’s aesthetic.
The moment she lays eyes on me, her chin begins to quiver.
Instinctively, I stand, like I might somehow be able to press my body through the glass and hug her. “Hey, it’s okay,” I coo.
She sinks into her chair and picks up the phone, and I do the same.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she blurts.
“No, no, no,” I tell her. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s just a waste of time and energy. You made one mistake that turned into something way bigger and got blown out of proportion.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she hiccups back a sob. “I just needed a little extra help to stay awake. I swear. And then Grant—stupid Grant—asked me to meet him the other night and then bam! Here I am. It was so scary, Faith. There was so much blood. And what if this is on my record forever? What if—”
“Ches, listen, I know you’re probably really freaked out, okay?” I look up at the clock on the wall above her head. “But I need you to be very careful.” I clear my throat before whispering, “These people are dangerous. This is much bigger than Grant or a stupid little drug to keep you up at night, and probably even bigger than this injured drug dealer. Do you have a lawyer? Doesn’t the court appoint one for you or something?”
“No,” she says. “That’s what’s so weird. My mom said a lawyer contacted her and that they were hired by the people Grant worked for.”
“Well, what did she say?”
“What was she supposed to say? We can’t afford a lawyer, and Mom thinks this one is probably at least better than whoever the court appoints.”
I remember what Detective Wallace said about Ches getting a deal. “Ches, is there anything you know about the people who are behind all this? Anything you can share with the police to get you out of here?”
She huffs. “Everyone thinks I know stuff. It’s all stupid Grant’s fault. That kid doesn’t know shit, but he’s talking a big game, like he’s some kind of kingpin, so now they think we know way more than we do. I’ve said it a million times, Faith. Wrong place. Wrong time.”