“What in the hell?” Frankie cried. “Please tell me you don’t believe this shit.”
“Frankie, please.”
Frankie stomped over to the back of Jared’s SUV and opened the hatch door. Inside was a mannequin in a cardboard box, splashed all over with fake blood with stitches drawn on it in Sharpie. The fake “cadaver” had a sign around its neck that read STITCH ME UP, DR. FRANKENSTEIN.
Frankie practically snarled at Jared. He was reducing Frankie’s work to a cliché horror movie trope. He was disrespecting her, her family, and worse, the people inside her morgue.
“Right, and I guess this was just a Halloween decoration you’re drivin’ to some late-night charity function?” Frankie asked, her jaw clenched so tight it ached.
She’d tried being mature. She’d tried turning the other cheek. She’d tried ignoring it. Clearly none of these things were working. It was time for some justice.
“She’s not allowed to search my car!” Jared howled, stepping toward Frankie. “I didn’t give permission for that!”
“It would be best if you just shut up and stayed still, Mr. Lewis,” Eric told him. “I don’t want to cuff you, but I will. Even without that creepy mannequin setup, I saw you with my own eyes, attempting to pry open the door to the McCready’s mortuary. That is a punishable offense and you will be charged for it.”
“What! No!” Jared yelled. “You can’t prove anything!”
Frankie, meanwhile, had stomped toward Jared, scooping up the crowbar from where he had thrown it.
“Frankie,” Eric said, watching warily as she pointed the crowbar at Jared.
“That’s it, Jared Lewis. I’m sick of this stupid game. I’m sick of your bullshit,” she said. “You’ve gone too far. Don’t you see that? It’s one thing to mess with me, but you’ve messed with my family. You’ve disrespected the people who trusted us to take care of their loved ones. Hell, you’re disrespecting the dead!” She swung the crowbar toward the SUV to point at the mannequin.
Eric stepped between Jared and the blunt object. “Whoa, Frankie, just calm down, put down the crowbar. I’ve got this handled.”
“Oh, you mean the crowbar that this kid brought to my place of business to pry open a door and illegally enter? Sure.” Frankie flung her arm to the side and let go of the crowbar. She’d only meant to throw it to the ground, but instead she was watching it in slow motion as it twirled toward the SUV. It was headed straight for the not-exactly-cheap halogen headlight, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She winced as the glass shattered in a glittering shower on the ground.
“Frankie.” Eric sighed, dropping his head.
“She can’t do that!” Jared yelled, his face mottling red under his acne scars. “She can’t bust up my car!”
“No, she can’t,” Eric said. “And you will be able to file a report when I take you to the sheriff’s office to call your parents.” He leveled a distinctly annoyed glare at Frankie. “Because destroying someone’s headlight, even if he’s really annoying, is still a crime. In fact, waving a heavy object at a minor isn’t a great idea. And if the Lewises want to press charges, I’m going to have to file them!”
Now that Frankie wasn’t armed, Jared’s bravado was back. “That’s right, Sheriff. I want her charged with destruction of private property. Call my parents. I’m sure my mama will say the same thing.”
“Crap.” Frankie grumbled as Eric maneuvered Jared into the backseat of the squad car. He raised the metal grate between the two rows of seats, so there was no doubt Jared was being taken into custody. Frankie, at least, was allowed to sit in the front seat. Dread filled her belly as Eric silently drove into town. She’d never been in this much trouble. Then again, she’d never broken the law before. She couldn’t believe she’d actually busted the headlight. Usually when she did something stupid and destructive, she was the only one who got hurt. She did feel pretty awful that she’d messed up Jared’s car, but she felt equally angry that the little bastard had been about to vandalize her domain again.
She glanced back at him, sitting behind the cage in a squad car, and he didn’t even seem fazed. He was just glaring out the window, as if being caught burglarizing a building was so horribly inconvenient for him. She didn’t understand it. She was the product of indulgent parents, and she didn’t behave this way. It was like seeing the Mirror Universe version of herself, without the beard.
Speaking of her parents, she texted them to say she was fine and was spending the night at the apprentice apartment. It was a blatant lie, but there was still some chance she could keep them from finding out about this.
She crossed her arms over her chest and wondered how the hell things had gone so wrong so quickly. Just a few hours ago, she had been cooling in the sweat of good sex, and now she was possibly being arrested by said sex partner. This was not the sort of thing that happened to responsible adults with decent karma.
The Lewises met them at the sheriff’s office, and it turned out that they did indeed want to press charges. In fact, Frankie was pretty glad there was a cop present because Marnette Lewis looked ready to tear her face off with those acrylic nails.
“I want her charged!” Marnette yelled as Frankie sat in an uncomfortable chair near Janey’s desk. Marnette cradled Jared’s head to her bosom. She was dressed in a twinset and pearls, even at two in the morning. Her face was streaked with tears and eyeliner, as apparently she’d given herself a full smoky eye before arriving to pick up her “poor, sweet boy.”
Jared was shrinking into Marnette’s side, clutching at her like it was the great “Jared didn’t really shoot out the high school gym windows with a potato gun” debacle all over again. “I want her put away! She’s a menace! Everybody knows she’s insane, but no one wants to say anything because she’s been ‘sick.’ ”
Vern Lewis was also very clearly wearing his county manager hat instead of his parent hat as he loomed over her. A jowly man with prematurely graying hair, Vern had basically inherited the job from his father, running for the position when Vern Sr. died in the early aughts. Vern wasn’t terribly interested in local politics and moved to correct Jared or use his influence only when Marnette pried him out of his Barcalounger.
“Ms. McCready, I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you as a county employee, damaging my son’s car like that. I’ve tolerated your bad attitude toward him because everybody seems to tolerate your, what’dya call ’em, ‘eccentricities,’ around here, and I figure a single woman at your age deserves a little pity.”
“Pity!”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “But this is goin’ too far. You broke my son’s headlight with a crowbar.”
“Putting him in danger!” Marnette cried.
“Putting him in danger,” Vern repeated. “He can’t drive his car to school now, which means he can’t drive his friends, either. He can’t drive his grandma to the grocery store. He can’t do any of his service projects. You’ve really hurt him.”
Frankie snorted. “Okay, first of all, your poor, sweet boy brought the crowbar with him. We saw him take it out of his car and then try to pry the back door of the funeral home open. So let’s stop pretendin’ that I stopped him in the act of rescuing a kitten from quicksand. Your son is a criminal. And by the way, everybody in town knows he charges his grandma gas money when he drives her to the grocery, because she complains to the other ladies at bingo about it. And his service project for church? There’s no such thing as the Institute for Blind Orphan Squirrels.”
“You dirty lyin’ bitch!” Marnette cried.
“Easy,” Eric warned her.
“My boy doesn’t lie! You’re just obsessed with him—it’s sick! Stalking a teenage boy this way.”
“The teenage boy who was caught red-handed breaking into my office. Right.” Frankie looked to Eric.
“And you!” Marnette whirled on Eric, jabbing her finger into his face. “You’re lettin’ her drag you right into her insanity. Comin’ to my house and questioning my b
oy like he’s some sort of common criminal. Shame on you for taking that circus freak’s side when we’re the real victims here.”
“Hey!” Eric shouted.
“You are just ten pounds of crazy in a five-pound sack, aren’t you?” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Can I go to jail now? I’m sure the company will be better, if not smarter.”
Eric nodded. “I’m going to need you folks to sign some paperwork.”
“We’ll sign anything you want!” Marnette exclaimed. “Just as long as she goes to jail where she belongs!”
“Actually, the paperwork is related to the charges against Jared.”
Marnette cried, “But he’s just a baby! He didn’t mean any harm.”
“Trespassing on private property after the owners have specifically and repeatedly told him not to cross the property line is illegal, Mrs. Lewis. As is attempting to enter the building by breaking in. I don’t care what his intentions were. And there will be additional charges if I can prove that it was his crowbar that pried open the office door last week.”
“Even if it was his crowbar, that doesn’t mean that he pried open the door. It could have been anyone who got into our garage!” Marnette insisted.
“Really, you’re suggesting that someone else used the same crowbar to break into the same building on a different night? Kind of pushing plausible deniability to its breaking point, aren’t you?” Frankie asked.
“My son will not be charged in my county,” Vern shouted.
“Good thing it’s not an election year for your position, huh, Vern?”
Vern scowled at Frankie. “I’ve had enough of your lip, young lady.”
Frankie smiled ever so sweetly. “Which is too bad, really, since I’ve got so much of it to spare.”
“Your parents should have tanned your hide every chance they got; maybe you woulda turned out normal,” he told her.
“Enough!” Eric shouted. “Look, Jared’s a minor and he can be released into your custody, but he will still be charged as a minor with trespassing and attempted break-in, which is what he was doin’ when we found him,” he told the Lewises.
“And how, exactly, Sheriff, did you just happen to be in the funeral home parking lot with Ms. McCready?” Vern asked.
“With your son,” Frankie noted.
“After midnight,” Vern added.
“With. Your. Son,” Frankie growled.
“That’s none of your business,” Eric told him. “The court will contact you about arraignments and such. Please answer all correspondence in a timely manner.”
“I don’t think so.” Vern shrugged.
“You won’t respond to the court papers in a timely manner?”
“No, I don’t think we need to file any papers. I think, what with the circumstances and the stress Jared’s been through, we can agree that he deserves a little extra consideration, don’t you?”
Eric took a deep breath and stared Vern down. “No, sir, I don’t believe that’s the case.”
“As your supervisor, I’d say it is.”
“As much as I appreciate my job, Vern, I don’t believe it’s in the best interest of the county to let Jared go without consequences. Especially when I just talked to Mrs. Lewis about Jared’s behavior this week and that only seemed to make him escalate. He needs consequences now, so he can figure out a better way to behave.”
“Don’t you tell me how to parent my child!” Marnette seethed.
Eric said, “You appointed me to uphold the law. That applies to everybody, even your family. You wouldn’t want me as your sheriff, otherwise.”
Vern’s graying brows met in the middle of his forehead. “Well, your being sheriff can be a temporary situation, if you keep this up.”
Marnette smirked. “Real temporary.”
Eric’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “I guess that’s just a chance I’ll have to take.”
Vern stared at Eric, attempting to loom over him, too, despite being two inches shorter. Eric just stared right back.
“If you don’t sign the paperwork, Jared stays in my custody and I call the district judge.” There was that voice of authority again. Frankie felt a flash of guilt and irritation over the little shiver it sent down her spine. Later, she was going to have to sit down and closely examine the motivations that fueled her kinks.
Vern and Eric continued to stare at each other. Eric stared harder, so Vern backed down and signed the papers. “This isn’t the last time we’ll talk about this.”
“I’m sure it won’t be.”
Marnette ushered Jared out of the room like she was pulling him out of a fire. Jared smirked over his shoulder at Frankie. She managed not to make an obscene gesture at him; that was the limit of her maturity.
The minute the Lewises were out the door, Eric turned on Frankie, threw up his arms, and said, “What the hell?”
“I’m so sorry,” Frankie said.
“Just, don’t.” He sighed. “And I feel really weird sayin’ this, but get in the cell, Frankie.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I just told Vern Lewis that the law applies to everybody. You’re being charged with a crime,” he told her, motioning toward the cell.
“It’s a misdemeanor.”
“It’s a crime; that means you get in the jail cell until someone can come and bail you out.”
“I thought I was allowed to bail myself out if I have enough cash on me.”
“Do you have enough cash on you?”
“No.”
“So what’s your point?” he asked.
“Do you usually arrest the girls you sleep with? Because that’s some creepy Dateline shit,” she grumbled as she pushed past him into the third cell—one she hadn’t been locked in.
“No, and I’m not exactly happy with the position you’re putting me in, either. Nobody told you to pick up a crowbar and start swinging it at a minor.”
“I wasn’t swinging it at a minor. I was swinging it ‘minor adjacent.’ And the headlight was an accident,” she insisted. “A reaction fueled by heightened emotions. You know, like picking up a Segway and throwing it at somebody.”
Hurt rippled across Eric’s face and she wished she could suck the words back into her mouth. But since that was impossible, she was going to just have to commit and lean into it.
“That’s not okay,” he told her.
“I know,” she said.
“Look, this is clearly not how I wanted the evening to end, either. We can plead the charge down. When I give my report, I’ll make it clear to the judge that you didn’t intend to break the headlight. Between that, the video from the security cameras that show you flailing instead of actually aiming at the headlight, and your years of service to the county, surely she’ll let you off.”
“Yeah, Caroline Moultry’s usually pretty reasonable. On the bright side, now you see that I’m not a crazy person.”
“Maybe not the best time to make that argument,” he told her.
“I’m sayin’, there’s finally concrete proof of Jared breaking into the funeral home. We saw it with our own eyes, and it was caught on the cameras. His mom can’t deny it happened. I consider that a win,” she said.
“Just call somebody to come bail you out. I’m sure your parents are waiting by the phone, wondering where you are,” Eric said, walking away from her. She double-checked to make sure the key was on the hook, but she was still relieved when Eric didn’t shut the door behind her. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts, stopping on M, and internally winced at calling Marianne after two in the morning.
“Someone better be dead,” Marianne mumbled into the phone.
Frankie sighed. “No more dead people than usual. But, um, I might need you to come by the jail.”
“Again?”
“Please, just come pick me up.”
In the background, Frankie could hear Carl’s muffled voice ask, “Baby, who died?”
Marianne whispered for Carl to go back to sleep a
nd said, “I’ll be right there.”
Frankie slipped off Eric’s boots and flopped on the cot. The quilts were still on the cots, but the potpourri and homey touches from Frankie’s charity arrest were missing. She yawned, but there was no way she was going to sleep in a jail cell again.
Though her evening had started off pretty nicely, this was an awful end. On the other hand, her arrest did resolve a lot of Frankie’s current internal struggles. If nothing else, the guy literally putting you in a cage was a pretty good reason not to be in a relationship with him.
Forty-five minutes later, Marianne marched into the jail with Duffy at her heels. They’d both changed out of pajamas, which Frankie appreciated. Nothing said “classy” like being bailed out by someone wearing Tweety Bird lounge pants.
“Aw, you brought Duffy, too?” she called, sitting up.
“Well, he didn’t get to participate the last time you were in jail,” Marianne yelled back. Then she turned to Eric and glared at him the whole time she was signing the paperwork for Frankie’s bail. Duffy, however, was standing on the other side of the bars, trying to snap a picture with his phone. “You know, when I imagined this moment . . . this is pretty much how I thought it would go.”
“Shut it, Duffy,” she said, walking out of the cell in bare feet.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you allowed to do that?” Duffy asked, an exaggerated expression of shock on his face. “I don’t want to be part of a jailbreak.”
“I will hurt you,” she growled.
“How was prison?”
“Changes a woman. Orange Is the New Black was very misleading,” she told him.
“Did you lift weights while you were on the inside?” he asked. “If not, I’m not worried.”
“Frankie will be represented by George Pritchett,” Marianne was telling Eric as Frankie approached the main desk. “And by the time he’s done with the charge, the department will be issuing a formal apology to Frankie, with flowers. It’s completely ridiculous that she was charged at all, when that little snot was the one trespassing and breaking into a private building.”
“Look, I didn’t want to charge her, either, but I didn’t have a choice.”