Page 16 of Broken Halo
So far in my first twenty-eight years, I’ve only had one perfect thing in my life.
Griffin.
When that woman tore him from my arms, it was a pain I’ve only experienced one other time. It might’ve been a decade ago but that feeling will never go away. And I hope it doesn’t. I hold on to that memory tighter than any other.
Yesterday was a walk in the fucking park. But today?
Today, I will never forget.
This is what an out of body experience feels like and it’s being burned into my brain as it plays out.
* * *
“What’s going on?” My sister runs into the chaos that has quickly become my life. The moment her eyes meet my wild and frantic ones, her face pales.
I pull at my arms out of sheer panic and instinct—hindered by two police officers who are wrestling cuffs on my wrists behind my back as I listen to my child scream at the top of his lungs, fighting the woman who stole him from my arms as someone else started to read me my rights.
With tears running down my face and my lungs searching for air, I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone.
“Take him,” I plead. “Don’t let them touch him. Please, Jen. I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to promise me you won’t let him out of your sight.”
Despite what she’s walked in on, she doesn’t hesitate a second and turns to Paula, demanding, “Give him to me—I’m his aunt. You’re scaring him.”
Just like I knew she would, Jen doesn’t wait for an answer, and plucks Griffin from the CPS worker’s greedy hands. That bitch, just minutes ago, walked into my kitchen where I was making dinner, holding a clear “evidence” bag.
I’m just as confused now as I was then. I don’t smoke pot. At least I haven’t in years—way before I met Robert. And as far as I know, Robert didn’t either.
“It’s not mine,” I cry, the metal cuff cutting into my skin, but it might as well be my heart. I try to twist and look over my shoulder at the officer. “Let me go. It’s not mine! I don’t know who she is, but she seems to have it out for me. She must have planted it for you to find.”
The officer, twice my size, doesn’t respond and barely gives me a shake of his head.
“Take her in and process her. I need to stay here with the child and fill out the paperwork to leave him with the aunt,” Paula drawls, unimpressed by my pleas before pinning her gaze on Jen who’s trying to console Griffin and keep him from seeing his mother being dragged off by the police for possession of drugs that aren’t hers.
Jen bounces Griffin in her arms and levels her eyes on me as she digs through her bag and produces her phone. “Over my dead body will I let him go. Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure this is taken care of.”
“You can make your phone calls after you and I are done filling out paperwork,” Paula throws her power at my sister.
But Jen does what she does best, ignores her, putting her phone to her ear, and promises me, “I’ll deal with her and have someone meet you at the police station. Try to be calm and do not talk to anyone until someone gets there. Do you understand? Don’t say a word.”
Paula steps in front of Jen. “If you want the child to stay with you, I suggest you hang up the phone so we can take care of his arrangements.”
One of the officers yanks me from my kitchen, through the expansive entryway, and out the double front doors that were left standing open when Jen came running in. The last thing I hear as I’m ushered out of my home is my sister biting off the head of the CPS worker, who’s bound and determined to create nothing but havoc in my life. “If you want my résumé, I’ll give it to you, but trust me—I’m completely capable of multitasking this shitshow.”
* * *
Trig
I pull out my ID to start the bail process.
“How long has she been here?”
Never did I think I’d be posting bail for Ellie Montgomery-fucking-Ketteman today. Ten years ago? Maybe. I’m pretty sure the only reason she never got into trouble back then was because Jen covered her ass more times that I could count.
She was a spitfire and threw caution to the wind, not giving one shit about the law and even less about what people thought. Even with all that, she wasn’t stupid then and I’m sure she’s even smarter now. No way would she have given consent to search her house if she knew there was anything to find, and the way Jen described it, sounds like there was enough pot to charge her with a Class A Misdemeanor. I still don’t have the details, but they wouldn’t have arrested her for just a couple of joints.
The clerk at the desk takes down my information and speaks while looking at the screen in front of her. “Says she’s been here about thirty minutes.”
As much as I want to not give a shit, the thought of Ellie being thrown into the general population of the county jail makes my insides tighten.
