Chapter 2: Inside the Precinct Walls
The county sheriff’s office smelled like old paper, cheap disinfectant, and fear.
That was the first thing I noticed when they brought me inside.
Not the cracked tiles.
Not the flickering fluorescent lights.
Not the officers pretending not to stare.
Fear.
It was everywhere.
The kind of fear people carried when they had learned that speaking up came with consequences.
Sheriff Voss walked ahead of me like a king returning to his castle.
“Book her,” he ordered.
The desk officer looked up.
“Charge?””
Voss didn’t hesitate.
“Armed robbery suspect. Resisting arrest.””
I raised an eyebrow.
“Resisting arrest?””
The desk officer glanced at my cuffed hands.
Everyone in the room knew the accusation made no sense.
I had been completely still.
But nobody challenged him.
That told me more than the charge itself.
“Name?”” the clerk asked.
I looked at him.
“Amara Whitlock.””
He typed.
“Address?””
“Atlanta.””
Voss stepped forward.
“Don’t bother verifying anything yet.””
The clerk stopped.
“Sheriff?””
“I said don’t.””
A strange silence followed.
The clerk slowly removed his hands from the keyboard.
I noticed.
Another detail.
The sheriff controlled even the smallest actions.
“You’re not curious why I’m asking you not to verify?”” I asked.
Voss leaned against the desk.
“You’re confused about how this works.””
“No.””
I looked around the room.
“I understand exactly how it works.””
His expression hardened.
“You think you’re different.””
“I know I’m different.””
He laughed.
“Everyone thinks they’re special when they first arrive.””
He walked toward the holding area.
“Then they learn.””
I followed.
Not because he forced me.
Because I wanted to see.
The holding cells were small and outdated.
One woman sat on a bench inside.
Her name was written on the booking sheet.
Lena Parker.
She looked up when she saw me.
Her eyes immediately went to my handcuffs.
“You too?”” she whispered.
I stopped.
“What?””
She glanced toward Voss.
“He does that.””
The sheriff looked back.
“What did you say?””
Lena instantly looked away.
“Nothing.””
That reaction told me everything.
She wasn’t afraid of the law.
She was afraid of him.
Voss walked away to speak with another officer.
I lowered my voice.
“How long have you been here?””
“Two days.””
“For what?””
Her lips pressed together.
“I argued with him.””
“About?””
“My brother.””
She looked down.
“He got arrested last month. They said he had drugs in his car.””
“Did he?””
“No.””
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
“My brother doesn’t even drink.””
Before I could ask more, Voss returned.
“Conversation over.””
Lena moved away.
I was placed in the empty cell across from her.
The door slammed shut.
A few minutes later, Caleb appeared.
He looked different without Voss standing beside him.
Younger.
Less confident.
More human.
“Are you okay?”” he asked.
I almost laughed.
A woman in handcuffs asking if she was okay was apparently normal here.
“I’m fine.””
He hesitated.
“I need to ask you something.””
“Go ahead.””
“Who is Eleanor Hayes?””
There it was.
The first crack.
I looked at him carefully.
“Why do you want to know?””
“Because I saw the message.””
“And?””
“And because Chief Judge Eleanor Hayes doesn’t call random people.””
I stayed silent.
Caleb looked toward the hallway.
“She’s the chief judge of the federal district court.””
“Yes.””
His face went pale.
“You know her?””
“I do.””
“How?””
I held his gaze.
“Because she knows me.””
Caleb took a step back.
“What exactly are you?””
Before I answered, Sheriff Voss’s voice came from behind him.
“Deputy.””
Caleb froze.
Voss approached slowly.
“What are you doing?””
“Just checking paperwork.””
“No.””
Voss stared at him.
“You’re investigating.””
Caleb immediately shook his head.
“No, sir.””
But Voss knew.
He always knew.
“I hired you because you understood loyalty.””
“Yes, sir.””
“Remember that.””
Voss turned toward me.
“And you.””
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re going to spend the night thinking about whether you should have kept quiet.””
I smiled slightly.
“I already know I made the right choice.””
His face tightened.
“You don’t know anything.””
Then he walked away.
But before he disappeared down the hallway, his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?””
A pause.
His expression changed.
“What do you mean someone is asking questions?””
Another pause.
Then his eyes slowly moved toward me.
And I knew.
Someone outside the station had started pulling the thread.
The sheriff lowered his voice.
“Find out who she is.””
The call ended.
Then he whispered the words that made my stomach turn.
“Because if she’s who I think she is…”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“…we have a much bigger problem.””
