Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (20 page)

Carrie’s
interrogation baffled and frustrated her. Still, she remained calm and answered
all their questions to the best of her ability.

Even when they
asked them twenty times.

At one point,
she almost suggested an improvement to the process, but then closed her mouth.

“What?”
Detective Collins leaned forward with the excitement of a dog expecting to
snare its prey. She doubted her inquisitor would appreciate her desire to
modify his interrogation process.

“Nothing.”

“It wasn’t
‘nothing’. You want to tell me something important, I could see it in your
eyes. Just tell me. You’ll feel better if you do.” He reached across the table
and touched her hand.

She remained
doubtful but gave it a try. “Perhaps if you return my iPad, I can write out the
answers to the questions you guys keep asking. Then when you forget, you can
refer to my answer.”

He pulled his
hand back and glared at her from narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry.
Honestly, I don’t understand this process, which is why I stopped myself from
suggesting this a few hours ago. You all seem very tired and even when I
explain myself as clearly as I can, you don’t seem to hear what I say.”

“Oh, I hear
you.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stared up at the ceiling.

“Do you at
least agree we aren’t making very much progress here?”

“That’s the
understatement of the year.” Still staring at the ceiling, he massaged his
temples.

“Perhaps if
you explained your process and goals, I could better help you reach them.”

Just then, the
door opened and a new policeman entered. “Jack, the chief wants me to take a
shot.”

“Great! Boy
Wonder has arrived.” Jack shoved himself up with one angry thrust. “She’s all
yours. I’d wish you luck, but I wouldn’t mean it.” He stormed out leaving her
with a smiling, friendly-looking policeman. She knew from her day’s experience
his happy demeanor wouldn’t last long.

“Carrie, my
name is Joey Pascal.”

She stood and
shook the hand he offered. “Carrie Hanson.”

He motioned
for her to sit and joined her at the table. “You look tired. Can I get you
something to drink or eat? Do you need a bathroom break?”

“Oh, yes,
please.” Carrie had been trapped in this room for what felt like days.

He chuckled.
“Which?”

“All three,
but bathroom first. And if I only get one, I want the bathroom.”

He stood up.
“Let me grab a female police officer to escort you.”

“Thank you so
much!”

For some
inexplicable reason, the discussion of bathroom breaks changed her bladder
status from near-bursting to bursting-now. By the time the policewoman opened
the door and motioned her to follow, Carrie had to walk with tightly clenched
legs, which unfortunately made her lag behind the pissed-off officer.

“Pick it up. I
do have other things to do than take uncooperative witnesses on bathroom
breaks.”

“Sorry. I understand
your annoyance. I wouldn’t like it either if I had to stop working for such a
stupid reason.”

When Carrie
entered the bathroom, she flew the last few feet, pulling down her slacks and
panties along the way, doing a half turn mid-air and landing on the toilet just
as a flood burst from her body.

The cop spoke
from outside the stall. “How long have you needed a bathroom?”

“I don’t
know…seems like forever.” She glanced at her watch. “Wow, I’ve only been here
six hours. That can’t be right.” She tapped her watch.

“You didn’t
receive a bathroom break in six hours?”

“Not until
Officer Pascal just asked me if I needed one.”

“Did you ask
to take a break?”

“No. I’ve
never been arrested before and, honestly, I don’t understand the process. But
since everyone gets mad at me five minutes into the questions, the timing never
seemed right to ask for a break.”

“You still
peeing?”

“Afraid so.”

“In the
future, when you’re arrested, ask for food, water and bathroom breaks as often
as you need.”

Carrie smiled
as the flood ended and faded to a dying trickle. “Thanks, but I going to try
really hard to avoid future arrests.” She exited the stall and washed her
hands. “Next time I see a file cabinet being pushed from a five story window
and people on the sidewalk below, ignoring my warning to clear the street, I’m
not yelling bomb again.”

The cop
tensed. “You yelled bomb?”

She grimaced.
Now the cop looked pissed. “It got them off the sidewalk so no one died, but
then when I called 911 and told the woman it wasn’t a bomb, but crazed
employees tossing out my file cabinets, she wouldn’t believe me. Evidently, the
people who heard my warning called in reports of bombs.”

The moment
Carrie turned off the water, the policewoman ushered her into the interrogation
room and stormed out.

“If someone
would tell me the process, I would do this better,” she grumbled.

A few minutes
later, Officer Pascal and the female officer entered the room. “Carrie this is
Officer Jenson. She’s going to get your statement while I bring you food and
drink.” He slid a menu over to her.

Carrie found
what she wanted, but didn’t have enough money for it. “Would either of you like
to split an avocado, spinach, tomato, turkey on nine grain bread?”

The
policewoman smiled. “I will.”

Pascal rolled
his eyes. “One healthy sandwich to go. What about drinks?”

“Do you have a
water fountain? I only have enough money for my half of the sandwich.”

“The meal’s on
me,” he said.

She shook her
head. “Don’t waste your money. I’ve told the other officers the truth all day
long.”

“I plan to ask
different questions. And my first question is—money aside—what do you want to
drink?”

Gosh, she
liked him. “Green tea would be good.”

“Coke for me,”
Jensen said.

After he left,
the policewoman pulled out a tape recorder. “Mind if I record the
conversation?”

“Not at all! That’ll
save you from asking me the same stuff over and over.”

The
policewoman smiled for a moment, then sobered. First, she read Carrie her
Miranda rights. While Carrie had seen this on TV shows, she had yet to
experience it even once today.

“Do you wish
to waive your right to an attorney?” Jenson asked as she checked off a box on
the paper before her.

“I don’t have
an attorney.” Nor could she afford one right now.

Jenson glanced
up from her paperwork. “One can be appointed
—
no
charge.”

The price
worked. “How long would that take?”

Jenson sighed.
“A Day or two.”

But the timing
sucked. “I really don’t wish to stay quite so long. I’m going with my gut which
says you’re going to actually listen to what happened today.”

Jenson snorted
softly and smiled. “I am.”

“Then I’ll go
without a lawyer.”

Jenson nodded
her approval. “In your own words, tell me what happened.”

Carrie first
explained about the message from Jack, warning her of the employee riot and
that he’d locked himself inside the computer room.

“Oh God, I think
Jack could still be barricaded inside the room in the basement. He’s very
protective of his servers. If so, he’s been without bathroom, food, and water
as long as I have.”

Jenson rose
and turned off the recorder, slipping it into her pocket. “Let me go check and
I’ll be right back.”

Carrie nodded
anxiously, hoping someone had rescued poor Jack by now.

When the door
opened a minute later, she sighed in disappointment. Officer Pascal and her
food had arrived, but she needed to know about Jack.

She shared her
worries as the officer handed her a giant sandwich.

“Is there a
knife to cut this in two?” She regretted her request at once. They probably
frowned upon suspects asking for knives. “A plastic one will do.”

“I bought
Officer Jenson her own sandwich.”

Carrie pushed
the wrapped sandwich back to Officer Pascal. “I don’t have enough money for a whole
sandwich.”

He smiled.
“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do.
Chances are you’ll become angry with me when I explain why I yelled bomb. Even
Officer Jenson got mad at me for that.”

“She didn’t
get mad at you.”

“Yes, she
did.”

“Your 911 tape
didn’t get included in the initial incident report. If it had been, the matter
wouldn’t have been pushed up to Level Red so quickly. Thus, the city would’ve
been spared significant cost and police man-hours over what turned out to be an
angry fired employee and her five nephews destroying the CEO’s office.”

“Miss Schnell
did this? She can barely lift her purse.”

“Actually, the
old gal had more to her than you’d think. Took two officers to handcuff her.”

Carrie
frowned. “I don’t think you arrested Miss Schnell then. You’d need one officer,
a weight loss dietician, and about a year to handcuff her.”

He let out a
hearty laugh, soothing her anguished soul. “We used plastic ties on her.”
Opening one side of the foil paper wrapped around his sandwich, he took a large
bite.

Carrie’s empty
stomach growled in protest as she watched him eat. She unwrapped her sandwich
and bit into her delicious turkey delight.

Officer Jansen
returned and handed Carrie her iPhone. “We need you to text your employee and
tell him the men at the door are police and rescue workers. Hopefully, he still
has the strength to move whatever he used to block the door.”

Carrie dropped
her sandwich and grabbed her phone. “Please, don’t let me have killed poor
Jack.”

She sent her
message and waited, unable to eat until he responded.

How do I
know this is really you?

“He thinks
it’s a trick.” Then she smiled.

I will
bring you my grandmother’s chocolate covered turtles tomorrow if you will let
the police come in and save you now.

“Hopefully, my
turtles will do the trick.”

While she
waited, Officer Jansen insisted she continue with her story.

“I cowered
behind a car, fretting over our client’s contracts blowing around the sidewalk.
Those are old files, back when we required the company’s tax ID number on the
contract. I started thinking about people picking them up and opening accounts
in their names. Credit cards don’t cover thefts against businesses like they do
personal accounts.”

Jenson nodded
once as if she knew that.

Of course,
she knows. She’s a police officer.

“I feared
Trent would fire me…again…and this time for real if I stood by and watched his
clients’ IDs flitter away into the arms of identity thieves.”

She glanced at
her phone again and bit her bottom lip. Officer Pascal covered her hand with
his. “Don’t worry. The rescue workers are checking your employee over now, but
he seems to be fine.”

She almost
asked how he knew Jack had made it then noticed a wire running up to his left
ear. “Thank you for telling me.” Feeling happy now, she returned to her turkey
delight.

“So you were
picking up papers…” Jenson prompted.

Carrie nodded.
“Then I saw a black flash right before someone gripped my waist and slammed me
into the car I’d previously hidden behind. I screamed, of course. Next thing I
knew all hell broke out.” She paused, relieved to see the tape recorder
running. She really didn’t want to tell this part again.

“My boss
silenced my scream by cursing at me.”

“What did he
say?”

She closed her
eyes to help her remember. “You stupid idiot, what were you thinking, then
something about five ought three.”

Jenson leaned
forward. “What did he mean?”

“I don’t know.
You should probably ask him.” She frowned as an odd expression passed between
Jenson and Pascal. “What’s happened to Trent?”

Officer Pascal
leaned forward. “Nothing. He’s at a different precinct, so he’s not available
for us to question. Can you think of any possible meaning for those words?”

Jenson tapped
her fingers on the desk. “Did he seem irrationally angry at the time?”

She grimaced.
“I don’t recall him ever calling me an idiot before.”

“Do you know
what set him off?”

She groaned at
her stupidity as the answer came to her. “Another explosion occurred just after
I crashed into the car. They must’ve pushed out another cabinet. They’d thrown
out three in rapid succession then nothing for fifteen minutes, so I started
collecting papers. Which explains why he grabbed me and shoved me against the
car. A cabinet must have been falling right on top of me.”

She smiled.
“He didn’t say five ought three. He said there were five not three. He cursed
at me because I’d come out to collect papers while they still had file cabinets
to toss.”

She covered
her face. “They arrested him for saving my life. He really is going to fire me
this time.”

Jensen smiled
at Pascal. “Anything you want to ask?”

“I think you
got it just fine. Write it up and give it to the chief.”

She smiled.
“Thank you
Detective
Pascal.”

When Jenson
left, Carrie smiled. “So you’re a detective?”

A pained
grimace crossed his face. “Not yet. And I wish people would stop promoting me
in advance.”

“I think she
meant it as a compliment.”

He nodded. “I
just don’t want it jinxed. So off the record, while you nibble a bit more on
your sandwich, what’s it like to work for Master Trent?”

She narrowed
her eyes. “I don’t call him that, so where’d you hear it from?”

A faint grin
tugged at his mouth. “I frequent a bar in Brooklyn that has a whole wall
dedicated to him.”