Chapter 20 | Incarcerated

Callie's POV

The patrol car came to a stop in front of the bricked building. I dreaded having to exit the vehicle and walking into my new temporary home. I had mentally prepared myself for this since I had conspired Stefan's kidnapping, but I had also become too comfortable with life. I had stopped watching over my shoulders steadily, I didn't pay attention to my surroundings.

Here I was, pregnant and alone, and about to walk into an unfamiliar world filled with criminals awaiting trials for severe crimes.

Detective Massey chatted outside of the patrol car with a deputy who toggled the gun on his belt, the conversation between the two was swift and ended with Detective Massey climbing into another car and driving away.

The deputy opened the car door and ushered for me to exit, though I was dreading and almost refusing to retreat from the vehicle. He was patient with me, but at the same time was trying to hurry the ordeal along.

Upon entry into the jail, I was strip searched by a female officer and then formally booked into the county jail. By morning my face would be all over booking reports, and the world would know the assumptions of me being involved with Stefan's disappearance.

It was true, however, the feeling of defeat drowned my inner conscience.

The orange jumpsuit they had assigned me to wear smelled of body odor that had been clinging to the fabric for at least two weeks. I knew already I wasn't going to be receiving special treatment, not with the charges I had been given. Stefan was a well known, and liked, man of this city. Anyone who crossed him negatively ultimately paid a price, and right now I had a huge red target on my backside.

I was put into a cell with a woman in her late twenties, Trisha. She was currently awaiting trial for murder, claiming she was one of the most known females in the entire facility. She had a pale complexion, her face covered in dark freckles. Her ash blonde hair was tightly dreaded, and her muscle build up seemed almost masculine and highly intimidating.

Comparing our two seemingly different physical traits, you've would've guessed one of two things. One, I couldn't be trusted and I was also being held for a murder charge. Two, she was a tactic they would use to further intimidate me. Another way of 'sweating it out.'

Our cell reeked of standing urine, the floors remained sticky no matter how many times we would mop them. The entire facility carried an odor of urine and feces, and at night it was never quiet. The women would gawk at other women a few cells over or a story below, and constantly gawked with the correctional officers as they did their nightly rounds. It was as if some never slept, and others were left awake staring at the ceiling. Just listening and waiting for the silence that never came.

"Just count sheep," Trisha yawned in between her words, "It drowns out the noise if you think hard enough newbie."

Newbie, that's what everyone called me.

"I just want to go home, I don't belong here," I cradled my knees to my chest, trying to find warmth on the uncomfortable bunk.

I heard her turn over into a direction on her bunk, the movement rattled the entire frame.

She let out a huge sigh, "I said the same thing when I first got here."

"But didn't you do it?" I had never took the time to formally ask Trisha her story, but I knew I couldn't help but hear the rumors from the other women.

"You see," she started out taking a deep breath, "It wasn't murder. Malachi was abusive, he had been our entire relationship. There were days he would come home, and everything would be fine. Other days he would come home plastered, he always reeked of alcohol. He would steadily pick arguments, bickering over the smallest things. I had taken it for so long: the verbal, the mental, and the physical abuse. I would sit there and take it, but one day it got bad. I knew he was going to kill me. He had his hands around my throat, he was squeezing, and I could slowly feel my life just being snatched away. My eyes were going black and fading back in, it was like he was teasing me but it was with death. I grabbed a candleholder off the side table and slammed it into his head. When I did it the first time it knocked him out cold, but I couldn't stop myself. It was a bloody mess."

Her voice was shaky towards the end of the story, and even though she was a murderer, I felt sympathetic towards her.

"Why are you here? Your story screams self defense," the question stabbed my heartstrings, realizing even innocent people got the shitty end of the stick at times.

"The system is fucked," one of her hands made contact with the wall, "Self defense or not, they believe I should have stopped after the first hit. Being strangled to death doesn't give me the reason to murder someone. I plead not guilty to murder, I'm hoping I can get a plea deal and take manslaughter, I won't do murder. Not for the likes of Malachi. My family paid for an amazing defense lawyer, he's great. If you need someone, let me know and I'll slide you his number. He knows his stuff, he could help you."

The bedframe rattled as she readjusted herself again, "What's your story newbie? Why are you here?"

Her questions startled me, although it was expected. She had told me her story, it was only fair that I shared mine. I wanted to trust her, after she had willingly opened up to me. I knew, however, it wouldn't be smart or wise to make friends within these walls. In the end, she and I weren't friends. We were both criminals facing charges more similar than she had realized.

I brought the thin blanket to my mouth to muffle the lies escaping, "I was involved in a hit and run following a drug deal gone bad. The guy driving the vehicle hit somebody, didn't stop. Police arrested both of us when they finally caught us several blocks down."

I heard the laughter escaping from Trisha above my head, "That is so amateur, and they put you in here for that? Normally girls celling with me or any of the females in this unit are being accused of murder. Who was your arresting officer?"

"Massey," I stuttered before repeating myself, "Detective Massey."

"That's the same motherfucker who put me in this joint," she peered up at me from the side of her bunk, "He specializes solely on homicides and kidnappings, you best be informing your lawyer. Find out the real reason you're in this mess, it's more than a hit and run."

Reality began to sink in, I was being housed with a unit filled with murderers. All of the women surrounding me were murderers detained by Massey himself, and I was his latest victim. I was supposed to be here, however, I didn't want the rest of the inmates knowing the truth. I didn't want the odds being solely stacked against me before I had given Katherine a chance to stick to her word, I just needed more time.

I wish I could say I felt well rested the next morning, but it was the complete opposite. My head pounded from the lack of sleep from the distinct chatters throughout the night, the unit was similar to sleeping inside of an insane asylum. There was always someone awake taunting another, or someone crying out to their families.

Trisha was awake before the morning light shined through our small window, I could hear her grunting as she did her morning exercises. She would jog around the cell a few times, do push ups, wall sits, and jumping jacks. Anything to keep herself busy until the unit lights would flash on and our mornings would begin.

We were all being brought out for breakfast when a guard stopped at mine and Trisha's cell blocking my exit, "You need to come with me."

I stared at her confusingly and then glanced over at Trisha who only shrugged her shoulders, there was nothing she could do to get me out of this one.

The walk to the interrogation room seemed endless. I was getting constant stares from other inmates: some of hatred and others that only seemed to make me uncomfortable.

I wanted to get out of this place, and never look back.

The setting of the interrogation room was uncomfortably all too familiar. I was left there for an unforseen amount of time just to twiddle my thumbs, and stare blankly at the white walls. I was handcuffed to the one of the legs of the table, escaping was near impossible. I could make a run for it, but the table would slow me down. Even if I made it out the door, the hefty guard on the other side would have more than enough strength to stop me in my tracks.

After an unknown amount of time, Detective Massey finally waddled himself into the room. Without hesitation he seated himself in front of me, sliding a bottle of water in my direction insinuating for me to take a drink.

The water from his bottle left droplets on his stubble making it seemingly hard to concentrate on him without bursting into laughter, "Callie, describe your relationship with Stefan and how it came to an end."

"You asked me this the last time I was here, I told you. We met at the pub and it sprouted from there. Went to dinner a few times, had sexual relations, and most nights he went home. It ended out of nowhere, and I haven't had a decent conversation with him since," the clinks of the handcuffs rang as I tried to illustrate using my hands.

"We have reason to believe you're not being completely truthful Callie," he stood up to remove the buttoned up jacket part of his suit, and began circling the table like a shark hunting out it's prey.

"Where were you the night Stefan disappeared and the night Benjamin Harrison was murdered?"

This was the question I wasn't prepared for, the one that was going to be a tough act. I watched the door uneasily praying for a sign. I waited anxiously for Katherine to bust through the door and save the day, something I knew wouldn't happen.

Bracing myself for the inevitable I tried to figure up a white lie, "I was at home all night, watching movies."

I knew before he said anything he wasn't buying my story, he had seen dozens of criminals in the same position as me. Everyone one of them, guilty. I knew he expected the same from me, and truthfully he was partially correct.

"We found Mr. Monroe's body yesterday morning," his words struck like a thousand daggers sinking straight into my chest, "Our cadaver dogs uncovered it on an abandoned property not too far on the other side of town."

Just as he finished speaking, I felt my entire world come crashing all around me.

This was it, I was sunk.

I was about to go down for the murders I didn't commit.