Eighteen (18)

I sigh and lean my head back, watching the minutes tick by on the clock, and when morning finally comes and the place gets busy with the activities of a new day, they come for us and chain us together like prisoners.

I can only hang my head as they lead us out to the hallway and tell us to keep on the right side of a yellow line that divides it down the middle. I’m last, so I follow along until they stop us at the door and unchain us from each other as we enter another holding cell.

“Drake,” a guard says, putting his hand up to prevent me from entering the cell. “You have a personal appearance in front of the judge. Stay here.”

I stay. The prisoners are told how to behave and that they will be on closed-circuit TV for their appearance. Then he closes the door and uncuffs me. “You’re going home, so relax.”

“How do you know?”

“Alesci has been talking to Judge Otero for two hours. They’re dropping the charges. But you still have to make an appearance.”

The relief is real. It floods through my whole body and I suddenly want to cry.

“Just hold it together a little bit longer, OK?” the guard says in a sympathetic voice. “We know it wasn’t you. There were other kids at that house last night and they tested positive for drugs too.”

“Do you know how my niece is doing? She was taken to the hospital last night for an overdose.” I sob the word. I can’t believe my little niece had an overdose. “She’s only six months old.”

“I think she’s OK. I think we would’ve heard if it had gone bad. We arrested Dana Alexander too. And we would’ve charged her with attempted murder instead of child endangerment if anything was happening at the hospital.”

I bite my lip and try to stop crying.

“Come on. Alesci is waiting for you in court.”

I am led down more hallways and the guard keeps his hand on my arm as we walk. We stop in front of a door and we are buzzed through. It leads directly into the courtroom and I see Mateo and another man at a table on the far side. They are both wearing suits.

Mateo smiles when he sees me, and I swear to God, I just want to go home and cry. But the courtroom is packed with people, and I am taken over to a table in front of Mateo and told to sit.

Mateo leans over the railing that separates us. “You OK?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly as I turn in my chair to see his face. “Is Olivia OK?”

He nods. “She will be. We’ll talk about that later. But right now, you just have to sit and let the lawyers do their thing, and then I can take you home.”

I turn back around and face forward. I don’t even have a home.

The judge enters and the bailiff asks us to rise. Then he tells us to sit and they start calling my case. “The People vs. Shannon Drake.”

I want to die right now.

But then the lawyers start talking and in three minutes, the judge pronounces the charges dropped. Mateo shakes my lawyer’s hand and then takes mine, leading me out of the courthouse.

I hang my head again. I never look up to see all those people as they gawk at us. We walk out to the parking lot in silence, in the chilly morning air, and then he holds my door open to his car.

I get in and lean my head against the window.

He sighs as he closes his door. “You OK?”

“I want to see Olivia.”

“You can’t.”

I look at him. “What do you mean?”

“It was part of the deal. No contact with her until there’s a complete investigation with Social Services. Weren’t you listening in there?”

“I was too busy worrying about being charged with drugging her, so no, sorry. I missed the legal jargon about them taking my only family member away.”

“Shannon,” he says, using that voice I’ve come to associate with his sexual requests. It makes my stomach turn. “You were almost implicated in a child endangerment case. You had her at a known drug house last night.”

“I was taking her home!”

“I get that,” he growls. “But there’s a procedure to these things.”

“Fuck your procedures,” I say. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t ever do anything wrong, Mateo. So why the fuck do I always have to do penance for other people’s mistakes?”

He starts up the car without commenting and we stay angry and silent as we make our way back to his house. I don’t wait for him to get my door, just jump out and start walking down his driveway.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Home,” I snap.

“You can’t go home, Shannon. It’s a crime scene. They got a warrant last night to search for drugs. It’s taped off and you can’t go in.”

“Great.” I throw up my hands. “Just fucking great.” I want to scream so bad. I want to yell at the entire world right now.

“Just come inside.”

I laugh. “You think we’re still together?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” he sneers.

He’s serious. He’s actually fucking serious. “You lied to me.”

“It was my job, Shannon.”

“Was I your job? Did you get to know me so you could bust Jason and Phil?”

I wait for the answer I so desperately need to hear, but it never comes.

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