Jamie is kicking me, and then Cain is. The boot against the ribs hurts the most. The fist against my jaw makes the loudest sound.
I stay in the room with a door locked from the outside for two nights and three days.
Then I’m let out.
“You can go,” someone says.
I can barely stand. I feel broken. My body aches from the cot. My throat burns from screams I silenced.
I don’t ask questions. I don’t speak. I don’t know what to say. I can’t even feel my skin right now.
Another deputy shows up as they hand me back my clothes in a brown paper bag. He’s from Marion County PD, according to his uniform.
“You’re free to go,” he tells me.
I nod. Free? What does that mean? Now what happens?
“But don’t leave town,” he instructs. “You’re still under investigation.”
I nod again. But I’m going to leave. I have four hundred dollars in my apartment. I’m going to take that and run.
The deputy walks me out.
“You…ah…need a ride?” he asks.
I give him a blank look.I’d rather crawl on my knees on asphalt.
Uncomfortable with my lack of response, he leaves. I watch his government-issued car drive away.
I look up at the gray Oregon sky and feel the painful immensity of freedom.
It tastes a lot like ruin.
6
THERE IS NO EVIDENCE
CAIN
Two days. They release her after two nights.
I was expecting a trial. A…something! Anything to make sense out of what she did, not her walking away with her freedom.
“You’re an idiot,” Georgia mutters as she wipes the counter.
“You’ve got to stop this,” I groan. She has been like this since Faith was arrested. Georgia doesn’t believe she stole a damn thing and doesn’t care about what happened in Seattle.
“I know that girl, and that’s not who she is. What you need to think about is who poisoned you against her.”Georgia gives my sister and Melody a slanted look.
She doesn’t like Paula or Melody—I can’t blame her, they treat her like the help. Sure, Georgia works for me, but she’s the heartbeat of Ripley’s. I’ve made it clear to my sister and her friend that I’ll ban them from Ripley’s if they’re rude to anyone here, but they know it’s an empty threat. I won’t do it. I won’t hurt my sister.
Georgia glares at me. “I’ve known you since you were a boy, Cain Ripley, and I’ve always been proud of you. But with how you treated Faith, I’ve lost all respect for you.”
That hurts.
I adore Georgia. She’s been with me from the start when I bought the place and refurbished it. She used to work for me at a diner I managed. When the opportunity came to have my own place, she showed up with a paint roller, a six-pack, and zero patience for cutting corners.
Thanks to our efforts, Ripley’s Eat It Or Not is a time capsule with its neon sign flickering just enough to feel intentional. The chrome trim catches the afternoon sun, and the wide picture windows spill golden light onto the sidewalk. Inside, it’s all leather barstools, glossy cherrywood booths, and checkered floors you could eat off of.
