When Love Comes Knocking, page 21
“Mr. Attwood, have you been drinking?”
Oh shit.
My world was about to go south quickly.
I didn’t even bother lying. “Yes, Officer.”
“Mr. Attwood, are you aware of this state’s laws on open containers in vehicles?”
Yep, past south and heading further. Next stop, Hell.
I sighed. “Yes, Officer.”
“Sir, I clocked you at ninety-three miles per hour. Mr. Attwood, please step out of the vehicle.”
I complied with his directions as he led me back to the front of his cruiser. He had me lean forward and place my hands on the hood of his car.
“Mr. Attwood, do you have any needles or weapons on you?” He asked before going any further.
I shook my head.
“Verbally, please Mr. Atwood.”
“No, Officer.”
“Are there any weapons or anything I should know about in the truck?”
“No, Officer.”
He proceeded to pat me down, checking the contents of each pocket before placing them back where he found them. In a few moments, he had finished his search.
“Mr. Atwood, please place your hands on your head, fingers interlaced.”
When I complied with his request, he reached up and grabbed my left wrist, bringing it down and pulling my arm behind my back. I felt the cold metal slap against me and then heard the ratcheting sound as the handcuff enclosed my wrist. He grabbed my right hand and repeated the process. In the still of the night, those handcuffs closing sounded like cannons going off.
“Mr. Attwood, you’re under arrest for reckless driving, violation of the open container law, and suspicion of driving while impaired.”
He turned me around to face him. He then pulled a small card out of his shirt pocket.
“Mr. Atwood, you have the right to remain silent…”
As I listened to him read me my rights, I felt the whole shitty night just reach up and kick me in the balls all over again.
I was transported to the county jail where I was booked in. The first action was to have me take a breathalyzer test. The officer had me blow into the tube three times. Each time it appeared, I measured a .04, barely under the .05 state limit.
My mugshot was taken, and I was fingerprinted. A bored female deputy took inventory of my belongings and had me sign an inventory sheet. She peeled off a copy of the form and shoved it into a plastic bag along with my things. She then stuck the open end of the bag into some form of tabletop machine. It hummed for a second and I caught a whiff of hot plastic.
She opened the machine and removed the now sealed plastic container and handed it to me.
Another deputy walked me to another door and pressed a small button set into a grill on the door frame. A beep came from the small speaker and the door in front of me lurched and then ground into action, sliding open. The deputy led me into a small vestibule that had another closed door at the other end. When the door behind us had slid shut, the one in front of us began opening.
Once opened, he led me into another area that had seats setup in small sections. This room had a musky reek to it, almost like a gym locker room and sweaty bodies; bodies that had not showered in a while. A glance showed several females sitting off by themselves. Several pedestals with phones in them were set up along one wall.
In the middle of the floor area was a good-sized platform that was raised up several feet to give the officers that sat there a clear view of the whole area.
“Take any seat,” the deputy said. “When your name is called, head over to the window they direct you to. Keep quiet and stay out of the female's area. Give us any trouble, and I’ll dump you in a holding cell with the drunks. Got it?”
I nodded and plopped down in an ugly, gray plastic chair. There were about a dozen other guys sitting around me. Several were sitting with heads in hands, or curled up in the chairs, trying to sleep. One guy had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled completely over his head as he curled up in his chair.
I sat there fuming as I watched some video running on a beat-up monitor hanging on the wall. The video seemed to be about all the stages of the booking process here at the jail. I sat there and watched repeat after repeat of the video, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
Why would she do this to me, to us? We seemed to be reconnecting, learning to love each other again. What had I missed?
“Attwood.”
I looked up to see a deputy beckoning to me. He led me over to a glass window that had a speaker set into it. Behind the glass was an older, portly gentleman in a rumpled suit. His tie was partially undone and his shirt appeared to have an unidentifiable brown stain on the front of it.
Through the window, I could see a bunch of folders and papers spread out on a small work area. He had one opened in front of him and was flipping through several sheets. After a few moments, he looked up at me.
“Mr. Attwood, I’m Judge Caruthers. You picked a good night to get arrested, if that’s even a possibility. The entire court computer system crashed this morning and we’ve been on paper and spreadsheets since. We don’t normally have judges in the jail, but we had to do something or we would be out of room by morning.” He shuffled his papers again.
“Mr. Attwood, I'm not going to charge you with the DWAI because you were under the limit. You don’t know how lucky you are on that count. I am going to charge you with the container law violation and the speeding. Your court date will be two weeks from today at the Municipal Courthouse, docket 3A at 9 a.m. Your bail is set at $750. See the sergeant at the desk out there and he will let you call and arrange bail. If you can’t make bail tonight, then you stay in custody until you do. Any questions?”
Knowing how lucky I had gotten off, I didn’t dare utter any words other than a quick “No, sir.”
He nodded his head tersely. “We’re done here. Sergeant!”
The deputy that came to get me from the window then led me over to a bank of phones.
“The phones are free, but you can’t call out of state. If you find someone, come let me know.”
I nodded and then stared at the phone. I had no idea who to call. Mom couldn’t leave Sarah. Scott was out of town. I hadn’t memorized Jason’s number yet. And I sure as hell wasn’t calling Julia.
My list of options dwindled down to one person and even she wasn’t a great choice. But hers was the only number I could remember. Shaking my head in resignation, I picked up the phone and punched in the digits. She finally answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“Kathi, it’s me, Jake.”
“Jake? Is everything okay? What time is it?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep.
I rubbed my hand down my face. “Kathi, look, I need help.”
I heard rustling on the other end of the line. “Are you hurt? Has there been an accident?”
“I wish that’s what it was. Kathi, I’ve been arrested, and I need to know if you can come bail me out? I can’t call mom because she has Sarah.”
Kathi’s voice changed, and she suddenly sounded much more awake. “Holy Christ, Jake. You? Arrested? How much is your bail?”
“It’s $750.”
I could hear her muttering over the phone before she continued. “Okay. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
I paused for one moment. “Kathi, one other thing. Don’t call Mom. Please, Kathi.”
There was dead silence on the line for a few moments.
“Okay, Jake. Something’s going on here, but we can talk about that after I get you. Where are you?”
I relayed the information to her. She muttered something I couldn’t quite understand in response before hanging up. I wandered back over to my uncomfortable chair and plopped back down.
It was close to one-thirty in the morning when a deputy walked me through another set of battered white sliding doors and into a small lobby, where Kathi was waiting. She immediately gave me a hug before leading me out to the street and to the garage where she had parked. A few minutes later, we were on the road.
“Kathi, thanks fo—” was all I managed before she held a hand up.
She shook her head. “Not now, Jake.”
I guess I couldn’t blame her for being mad, but I didn’t expect her to not talk to me. I just stared out the passenger window into the dark, the interior of the car illuminated by the dim light from the dashboard. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound I heard as I contemplated the wreck that was my life.
I must have zoned out because as we slowed, I looked up to see us at her house and her driveway gates were swinging open. Once she had enough room, she accelerated through the gates and up the small driveway and into a three-car garage with one of the doors already open. She zipped the car into its spot, shut the engine off, and was up and out of the car before I could ask what was going on.
I hopped out of her car and followed. She stepped up into her house, slapping the garage door opener on the wall near the door, closing the garage door. I stepped up into a laundry room, closing the door behind me. She never slowed, making her way through the spacious kitchen, across a large living room, and into the hallway on the other side. She finally paused outside a doorway and turned to me, pointing at the door.
“Guest room. Inside is a shower and a bed with clean sheets. Use them both, preferably the shower first because frankly, you reek. We'll talk in the morning.”
Her directions delivered, she turned, took three steps to another door, opened it and stepped inside, closing it behind her.
I sniffed the air, then raised an arm to sniff at my armpit, jerking my head back a bit. She was right.
I shook my head and headed to the shower, glad this night was over.
SEVENTEEN
The smell of bacon brought me back to the living. I blinked my eyes open, trying to work the sleep out of them. A movement to my left startled me, causing me to jerk in the bed.
Kathi’s cat, Simon, was sitting on a pillow to the left of my shoulders, staring at me. If I didn’t know better, I could swear he was judging me.
Cats and I didn’t get along.
“You know, they used to make tennis strings out of cat guts,” I grumbled, matching his stare.
He glared at me a moment longer before standing and stretching his back, arching it up like one of those scary Halloween cats. He then stepped on my chest and continued onto the side of the bed, pausing to swing his butt at my face before he leapt to the floor and padded out of the room.
“Kiss my ass, too,” I said, rolling my eyes.
I swung my feet over the side of the bed, waiting for my head to stop spinning. My crumpled suit lay on a chair near the bed. That suit and the headache I was sporting were stark reminders that last night hadn’t been a dream.
Damn her to hell and damn my fucking stupidity.
A robe had been thrown on the end of the bed. Slipping it on, I stumbled out into the hall and let my nose lead me back to the kitchen. Kathi, in blue sweatpants and a long T-shirt, was setting two plates onto a table that already had filled glasses of orange juice. Next to one plate were two pills. If there was mercy in the universe, those would be aspirin.
As I sat down, I glanced at the clock on the microwave, trying to focus on the small numbers. Blinking, I realized it was already after ten. I never slept that late. In all honesty, it felt like it had been days since the arrest.
I grabbed up the two pills and tossed them in my mouth. I picked up the glass and took a long drink of juice, the acid burning my throat as it went down. As I sat the glass down, Kathi joined me at the table.
“Kathi, about…” I started to say, but she held her hand up.
“Eat. Then we can talk.”
We ate quietly, the clink of silverware the only sounds at the table. It didn’t take us long to finish breakfast since our mouths weren’t having to split the time between talking and chewing. When we had both finished, she put the plates in the sink, then came back to the table with two cups of coffee, setting one in front of me. She blew into hers and took a small sip before setting the cup down. Steepling her hands in front of her, she gave me her full attention.
“Two questions. Why were you in jail, and why can’t I tell your mom?”
I stared at the tabletop, trying to come to grips with the cesspool that was my life now. I must have been staring for too long. Maybe it was the tear that slid down my cheek to hit the tabletop. Might have been the death grip I had on the table edge. The grip that was turning my knuckles white. Whatever it was, Kathi realized that something was very wrong.
“Jake, what’s wrong? Honey, I’ve not seen you this bad since Nikki died. Talk to me, Jake.”
She punctuated her plea by reaching over to lay her hand on my arm. I let loose of the table with one hand and grabbed hers. I turned my hand over, taking her hand in mine, and squeezed. A part of my brain pointed out the symmetry of the universe. Kathi had been there for me when Julia left me the first time, and now she was here when it fell apart again.
Taking a ragged breath, I told her about all the things that had been going on with Julia—the dates, everything leading up to last night. Then I relayed walking into the event ballroom, the engagement, my arrest, and time waiting in jail before she bailed me out.
I give her credit. She listened, letting me get the whole story out without interrupting me. She kept a grip on my hand and rubbed my arm with her free hand.
“Oh, Jake, honey. I’m so sorry. God, I can’t even imagine how you are feeling.”
Suddenly, she jerked her hands back and slapped the table. I could see the murder in her eyes. She was boiling mad.
“I’m gonna rip that whore a new asshole. Twice now she’s screwed you over. No way will I let her hurt you a third time.”
I’d never seen Kathi quite this angry before, and I realized that she was kind of scary when she was like this.
I sat back in my chair and let out a long breath, trying to defuse the moment and regain some composure. “Kathi, thanks for coming to get me. I’ll pay you back the money as soon as I can.”
She waved at the air, dismissing my words. Her eyes were shooting sparks, her jaw set as she contemplated Julia’s destruction.
“You owe me nothing. Damn it, Jake, you’re like a son to me. Well, maybe not a son, but definitely a nephew. Hell, Mary’s practically my sister. Family takes care of family, Jake, and you are my family.”
I sat there for a moment, unsure how to respond, her words almost embarrassing me.
Then she looked over at me again. “Jake, why can’t I tell Mary this?”
I sighed, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me. “If you tell Mom, then she might tell Julia, who is the last person I want to see or hear. If it’s okay with you, can I crash here until my court date for Sarah? I also need to call my lawyer.”
She reached over again and squeezed my arm. “Of course it is. We can go out a bit later and get you some clean clothes. If Mary calls, I’ll tell her I haven’t seen you. But you’re so going to owe me.”
Owe her? Owing her didn’t even begin to cover the debt I now owed her. Some of my father's words from the past flashed through my head. I glanced up and met her gaze full on.
“Kathi, do you know what a marker is?”
She gave me a confused look. “I’m not sure,” she replied, cocking her head at me.
“It’s something I learned from Dad. As with him, my word is my bond. I’ll stand by it. If someone did something extraordinary for Dad, he gave them his marker. Think of it as a get-out-of-jail free card. That person could redeem that marker at any time, for any reason, and Dad would honor it. As long as the payment didn’t include anything that was too illegal, Dad would help that person with whatever was needed.”
She was nodding as I spoke, realization blooming on her face.
“Like an IOU?” she asked.
It was my turn to nod.
“Kinda, but a bit more. Dad was quirky about it, and I got it from him. I mean it, Kathi. You can be halfway around the world and need me to come to you, and I will drop everything to get there. It’s more than an IOU. It’s a promise. Think wisely before you use it.”
She searched my face for a moment. Satisfied with what she saw there, she patted me on the arm and nodded. The moment over, she stood and went over to load the dishes into the dishwasher while I finished my juice.
After breakfast, I called the jail to find out where my truck had been taken. Four phone calls later and I found it at an impound lot in Monument. When I got a hold of someone there, they told me all the information I needed to retrieve it.
It was almost noon by the time I got that mess straightened out and made plans with Kathi to go to the impound lot tomorrow. I went back to the bedroom and found the sealed plastic bag from the jail. Ripping it open, I pulled out my phone and powered it back up.
A litany of pings and bells indicated all the messages and missed calls that had occurred overnight. I deleted every voicemail without listening, as well as any text message from Mom or Julia. Taking a deep breath, I hit one of the speed dials.
I don't think the first ring finished before the phone clicked and I heard Mom’s frantic voice.
“Jake, is that you? Please God, tell me you are okay. You’ve had us so worried. Where are you?”
“It’s me, Mom. Sorry, I’ve been out of it, got a little drunk. I'm okay, but I’m gonna stay with a friend for a few days.”
“Jake, son, you need to talk to Julia. She’s—”
I hung up. I didn't want to hear one word about Julia. Mom’s ringtone filled the air almost immediately. I didn't answer. Then it was Julia’s turn. I ignored that one as well. I deleted Julia’s contact information and blocked her number.
I gave it another ten minutes and then I called Mom back. When she answered, I didn’t give her a chance to talk.
“Mom, don't talk. Listen. If you say one goddamn word about Julia, I’ll hang up and not call you until tomorrow. Clear?”
“Jake, son, you have to—”
“Mom, I’m serious as a damn heart attack. One word, just one, and I’m done talking to you. Do you understand?”
