Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) (2 page)

TWO

A loud pounding on my front door woke me from a sound sleep. I shook my head, trying to clear the fuzziness and the remnants of a nice, tantalizing dream. I had thought I’d be plagued with nightmares of what was to come after my adventure with the teens and the synthetic marijuana. Instead of dreams of being arrested by the police, I had one involving a detective, the ocean, sand, and candlelight. The loud knocking continued. I glanced at the window. The world outside was still dark. Something must be wrong with my grandmothers. I sprung from the bed, nearly face-planting on the carpet as my legs tangled in the comforter.

I half-ran, half-jumped down the stairs. I yanked the door open, stumbling backwards when I was greeted by a fierce-faced Officer Mitchell, a guy I’d attended high school with, and a contrite Officer Glover. With cheeks blazing, I crossed my arms over my chest. I was wearing a Scrap This t-shirt made out of a thin fabric and yoga shorts, not the most appropriate attire for this visit, though I wasn’t up on the proper ensemble for a before-dawn visit from the police.

“May we come in, Faith?” Officer Glover asked.

Before I could answer, Officer Mitchell pushed his way inside my home while removing handcuffs from his utility belt. “You’re wanted for questioning.”

“What?” I focused on Glover, who appeared as taken aback as I was at Mitchell’s proclamation.

“The Chief said there are a few things to clear up.” Glover put a restraining hand on Mitchell’s arm. “No need for the cuffs.”

“You might be okay taking a forced leave of absence, but I’m not. I have a wife and three kids to support.” Mitchell turned me around, tugging my hands behind my back. “Chief Moore also said by the book, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“We don’t have a reason to arrest her.” Glover removed me from Mitchell’s custody.

Once again, I crossed my arms across my front, stepping away from the officer who I’d somehow managed to rankle.

“I’m keeping my cool,” Mitchell said. “You’re the one who’s losing it by playing favorites. I don’t want to end up like Jasper.”

I faced Glover. “What is he talking about? What happened to Jasper?”

“Complaints were made about the police not taking your involvement in the drug distribution seriously.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” I said. “Unfortunately, a favor turned into a wrong place, wrong time scenario.”

“A bit of a habit for you,” Mitchell said.

Two state police vehicles pulled into my driveway. Anxiety built up in me. I tried to talk myself down from the growing panic. I had done nothing wrong. There were no drugs, or even organza bags, in either my home or Scrap This. I’d also call Hannah and her mom. They’d explain what transpired at Polished. This would be over soon.

“Can I make a call? A friend of mine can clear all of this up for me.” I was proud of the calmness in my voice.

Glover handed me a jacket hung near my front door. “It’s better to just let this play out. It’ll be easier for everyone.”

The trip to Scrap This had been a disaster. From my vantage point in the backseat of the patrol car, I watched the red lights bouncing off the windows of the businesses we passed on the way to the police station. Some were empty, others filled with displays showing love for Eden High School football. The one my grandmothers had started was now in pieces on the floor. The police had to make sure there was nothing hidden in the lightning bolt piñata. Our new boxes of pattern paper were ripped into, damaging the top sheets. I blinked away threatening tears. No way would I crumble in front of Mitchell, giving the hateful cop what he wanted.

Mitchell had made me watch the search team, consisting of Eden’s reigning veteran of the police force, a state police officer, and a newly hired assistant prosecuting attorney, dismantle the store. They searched the restrooms, the break room (including opening sealed boxes of snacks bought for next week’s crop/baby shower hosted by our most frequent shopper), and the lock box in my grandmother’s office. No one believed that it only contained our money bag, even with the proof in front of them. The disgust for me never left their faces.

I drew in a deep breath, pulling back the tears trying to escape.

Mitchell parked in front of the station and sounded the sirens a few times. Let’s wake the neighbors and let them know the drug-selling Faith Hunter has been caught.

Karen England, reporter extraordinaire, stood at the top of the steps of the police station under the outside lights. I had an audience for my humiliation. This day was getting better and better.

“Looks like someone was able to make a phone call, even though I wasn’t allowed,” I said.

Mitchell pivoted, glaring at me through the mesh wire separating us. “How about showing some remorse instead of a snotty attitude? A woman lost her business today, and a couple of kids are very sick. But if you cared about other people, you wouldn’t have a side job selling drugs to kids.”

“I didn’t sell drugs to anyone.”

“Save it for a cop who’ll believe you.” He exited the cruiser, yanking me out of the backseat a few moments later.

I briefly—very briefly—thought of complaining about the rough treatment, then decided keeping quiet was my best defense. I trudged up the stairs, following Mitchell’s pace. Now that we were at the station, or maybe more precisely because Karen was out here, Mitchell wasn’t as eager to haul me to jail.

Karen flipped open a notebook. “Care if I ask a couple of questions?”

“Yes,” I said.

“No.” Mitchell stopped, jarring me to a halt.

“Are your grandmothers aware of what’s happening?” Karen asked.

“No. And they better not find out.”

“How do you think it’s possible that they won’t find out?” Karen asked.

“Because I’ll be released in a few minutes and back in bed before the sun rises,” I said.

“You’re rather confident that the police won’t detain you for distributing Janie to teens.” Karen tapped a pen against her lips. “Why is that?”

“Because I didn’t do it. I was taking the substance away from the girls, not giving it to them.”

Mitchell grunted out a laugh. “She’s been saying that all night.”

I glared at Karen. “Ask Hannah.” Since the photo was on Hannah’s Instagram account, I figured there was no harm giving out her name. It was already out there.

“I have,” Karen said. “Matter of fact, the chief has already spoken to them also.”

The doors of the station opened and an officer leaned out. “You need to get her inside. Now.”

My insides felt cold as Mitchell marched me inside. Hannah knew. Charlotte knew. They decided to let the police believe I was selling the drugs to the girls.

“Chief wants her in his office.”

“If I was Chief, I’d have a witness in there,” Mitchell said.

As we passed the main foyer, a woman charged toward me, screeching indistinguishable sounds. After a moment, the woman gathered her wits and set her words loose on me.

“Jasper protected you. He should be fired. You should be strung up.”

I drew away, pressing my shoulder into Mitchell. He moseyed to the side, allowing the woman to barrage me with continuous insults.

“My son almost died. Because of you. Why isn’t she handcuffed?”

“She’s not under arrest, Mrs. Sullivan,” Mitchell said in a soft tone. “Only brought in for questioning.”

Felicity Sullivan was my attacker. Brandon’s car accident almost killed him, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down, and stole his college dreams. The teen had been on so many scouting lists, Clive Murphy had set up a how-many-scholarship-offers pool at his pawn shop for the football player. Brandon had been on track to become the biggest story this football season.

“After what she did to my boy? That’s all? She’s in here for questioning?”

“Her house and Scrap This are being searched. If there’s any evidence found, she’ll have a nice long stay in prison. I’ll make sure of it.” Mitchell herded me to the chief’s office.

I was thankful Mitchell was dragging me to the station rather than helping with the search. If he wasn’t I’d worry he was planting evidence. For some reason he really wanted me to be the guilty party.

Mitchell shoved me into a seat in the chief’s office.

Chief Moore pointed at the door. “You can leave now, Officer.”

Mitchell looked around the office. “I don’t see anyone else in here. Might be better for you if I stayed.”

“I need your report in the next hour. The prosecuting attorney will be here then to take a look at it and see how we’ll proceed.”

I felt lightheaded. Had someone planted something in my house or store? The only person who’d have a clue that now was the perfect time to set me up was Charlotte. The dizziness intensified. “It was a favor. For Charlotte.”

“You can leave the door open. Are you feeling all right, Faith?” Chief Moore came around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry about all of this. With those pictures of Janie—and you—on the internet, I had no choice but to investigate your involvement.”

“My only
involvement
,” I stressed the word, “was agreeing to do a favor for Charlotte. She asked me to check up on the teens in Polished. I used a key to the back door, which Charlotte gave my grandmothers, to enter the store. Like Charlotte told me to. When I walked in, Hannah was being slammed into the wall by her friend Whitney. When Kirstin saw me, she started hiding something. I went to find out what, and it was Janie. I didn’t bring it in there.”

“Unfortunately, Whitney and Kirstin have a matching story, and it’s different than yours. And Hannah says she was in the laundry room running a load of towels when you came in. She doesn’t know if you brought in the drugs or not.”

Fortunately, my heartbreak turned into anger. “Hannah’s lying because she’s afraid of Whitney. The pictures are on Hannah’s account. How could she have been in the laundry room?”

“Whitney said she picked up Hannah’s phone from the table and used it because her battery was dead. I have two against one. It doesn’t look good for you.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “You believe those high schoolers. Over me?”

“I can’t have bias for a person on a criminal matter,” Chief Moore said. “Taking what a friend says on face value can result in an officer being encouraged to take a leave of absence.”

“Jasper’s in trouble because he didn’t haul me in? I was pepper sprayed. Isn’t that proof I walked into a crime being committed?”

“Not if two other witnesses state it was a defensive tactic because a drug pusher wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

There was a light rap on the doorframe. “I have some coffee for Miss Hunter.”

“I don’t want it.” I pulled the ends of my jacket tighter around my body. While I rationally understood the predicament Chief Moore was in, I still couldn’t believe he’d accept the statements of three teenagers as truth over mine.

The night dispatcher eased into the room. “There wasn’t a fresh pot, so an officer went to the trouble of having this made for you.”

If it was Mitchell, I didn’t want it.

“Here, no sense letting it go to waste.” The night dispatcher jiggled the black thermal mug. The smell of marshmallow with a hint of cinnamon wafted to me: S’more flavor. Only three people knew it was my new favorite: my grandmothers and Ted.

I accepted the offering, rotating the cup so I could grab the handle with my right hand. My breath caught in my throat. With shaking hands, I drew the cup toward me, pressing the small picture of Mr. Incredible against my heart. I closed my eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into me. This was Ted’s mug. I had cut the shape out of vinyl and slapped it on Ted’s cup a few months ago, knowing he’d be irritated, as I had compared his usual police-detective stance with that of the Disney superhero. He never removed it.

A tear trickled down my cheek. This was a signal. Ted knew my predicament. Another tear followed. And even knowing all the fine points, Ted believed in my innocence.

“Don’t forget the napkins.” The dispatcher placed a pile in front of me. Words were scribbled on the top one.

I picked it up. In my grandmother Hope’s shaky handwriting was the lyrics to the song she made up when I had reached the age when I truly understood what death meant. “When tears come for those we miss, we find a happy time to reminiscence. When you find the smiles in your heart, it’ll lead you to love that darkness cannot overcome. The times when I thought it was too much to bear I’d cradle you near, repeating these words for my heart to hold dear. Our Faith is strong, Faith is sweet, our little Faith will always make our world complete.”

Sobs shook my body. I rested my forehead on the desk, clutching the mug protectively to my body. The first time I had been hauled into a police station for questioning, I had been alone. In a foreign country. Scared. No one believed I was innocent. The people I thought were my friends acted like I didn’t exist.

This time, the dispatcher reached out. My grandmothers sent their love. Ted delivered a heartfelt message.

They all were with me.