Chapter 27

Suzi’s consciousness slipped out of Betty’s frail vessel, leaving behind the shell that had housed the woman for so long. The room blurred, colors melting into one another, until Suzi found herself back in the harsh light of reality.

There were no beeping monitors, no frantic nurses rushing in. Just Suzi, standing there, holding Mrs. RG’s frail hand. She glanced around the room, her heart heavy. Betty’s pain and suffering were finally over, but the emptiness left behind was palpable. No one seemed to realize that Betty had passed, and Suzi had to share the news with the sisters and nephews.

The family gathered, their grief a raw wound. A few wailed openly, their tears flowing freely. But Suzi noticed something else—the sisters, the close friends, the family members who had borne witness to Betty’s decline—they all exhaled, as if releasing a collective breath they’d been holding for far too long.

Suzi lingered, offering silent comfort. She knew the routine—the doctor’s official declaration, the call to Nick for body removal. This retirement home was closer to one of Nick’s other funeral homes, sparing her from dealing with Doyle’s usual nonsense.

As she stepped out into the hallway, Suzi’s mind shifted gears. Detective Wilson’s plan needed set in motion. The last couple of hours had given him time, she hoped. She drove to the designated location in the city, anticipation humming in her veins.

She drove to the designated location in the city.

Nothing.

She drove around and then back.

Nothing.

She waited. She drove around some more.

Nothing.

She assumed she had not been seen, so, she did what any rational woman would do if she wanted to get arrested—she sped through the city streets, running lights, daring anyone to notice.

And notice they did. The red and blue lights blazed again in her rearview mirror. She gave chase for a little bit to make sure they were good and pissed off. She pulled over and rolled down the window. But instead of an officer approaching, a loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Turn off the vehicle and step out slowly with your hands up.”

“Ok, let’s do this,” she said to herself, opening the door through the window as she had earlier that morning. She stood facing the patrol car as the afternoon city traffic rushed around her.

“Step onto the curb and go to your knees. Place your hands on your head.”

“Odd, but ok.” she thought.

She followed the orders.

An unseen officer grabbed her wrist, the cuff biting into her skin, then pushed her chest down, their knee on her neck. The cuffs were tighter, more uncomfortable than this morning and this guy was heavy. Panic surged—she couldn’t breathe.

“What the fuck, dude? Get off me.”

She struggled to dislodge the officer’s knee from her neck, but he only pressed harder. She was having difficulty breathing as she struggled. She instantly knew what George Floyd must have felt after enduring this police method for 14 minutes, and she’d been in it for less than a minute.

“Be still.” The gruff officer's voice sounded like gravel on gravel, in a cement mixer full of gravel.

Another couple of officers approached, but Suzi could not look up to see them. She could only hear their voices.

“The APB matches the vehicle,” one of them said.

“Why would she run?” another asked.

“She’s a fucking punk kid. Look at that hair,” Mr. Gravel responded.

“I can’t breathe,” Suzi gasped. “I have asthma. Please get off me.”

“I said shut the fuck up,” Gravel snapped.

“Let’s take her in and let them figure it out,” one of the other officers who were not currently crushing Suzi’s will to live, as well as her larynx, said.

“What’s your name, sweet cheeks?” Gravel’s gloved finger jabbed her head.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Go… fuck… your…,” she spat, straining against the darkness creeping in.

“Did you say ‘Jo’? ‘ Jo’ what?”

She could feel his weight shift as he must have lowered his head to get closer to her to hear better, but it was too late. She could feel the pressure behind her eyes as unconsciousness was taking over.

Suzi’s world snapped into focus as she realized she was conscious, but Judas was in control. She found herself holding an officer trapped in a gogoplata chokehold. Her legs were wrapped around his arm and neck, her handcuffed hands pressing against the back of his head, squeezing the life out of him.

Around them, other officers brandished tasers, shouting for her to release their comrade. Suzi’s mind raced. She knew she had to defuse the situation.

“Let him go, Judas,” she commanded, her voice strained.

Judas complied, kicking the man away from her. Blood smeared across his face, and Suzi noticed his broken nose.

“You fucking bitch!” Hatred flashed in his eyes as he pulled out his baton, ready to strike.

Bystanders recorded the chaos on their phones.

But another officer stepped in, blocking the charging man. “Charlie!” he shouted. “She’s going to take that away from you and shove it up your ass. The god damned cuffs didn’t even slow her down. She just kicked your ass and you are coming back for more? She’s surrendered. It’s done. Walk away.”

“Fuck you!” Charlie spat back, his gravelly voice dripping with rage. He hurled his baton at the other officer and stormed off, clutching his injured throat.

Judas relinquished control, and Suzi remained seated on the ground, her cuffed hands raised.

“How did we get our hands in front?” Ralph asked the collective. She pondered on the thought, but she assumed whatever it was, she would pay for it later in some way.

The intermediary officer holstered his taser, signaling the others to do the same. “Ma’am,” he said, “I apologize for my colleague’s behavior. We don’t intend you harm. But we must take you into custody for questioning about an animal strike.”

Suzi’s disbelief flared. “Arrested for an animal strike?”

He corrected her. “No, ma’am. We ask for statements with animal strikes, but we must arrest you for traffic violations, assaulting an officer, resisting arrest, and evading.”

She closed her eyes, “Fuck me,” she silently cursed. Phineas’ plan had been to get her “brought in,” not arrested. “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll go peacefully.”

The officers helped her up, and applause erupted from the crowd. They read her Miranda rights, securing her in the patrol car.

As they drove, the officer complimented her fighting style. “Those were some really impressive moves,” the officer told her. “Was that some sort of gym kata martial arts or something?”

“I plead the fifth,” Suzi said, disappointed that she blew the plan, but primarily because she didn’t know what gym kata was and had never studied martial arts.

She’d never been arrested or sat in the back of a squad car, but this wasn’t the cushy experience she’d seen on TV. The seat was an uncomfortable slab of weird, hard foam, and the interior of the doors felt oddly bare, devoid of any comforting features. She wondered if the glass was bulletproof.

As they navigated through checkpoints of the police station, Suzi’s unease intensified. One after another, the solid doors closed behind them, sealing her fate. The officer exited the car, securing his weapon in a locker. Suzi watched as he locked it, removing the key—a finality that sent shivers down her spine. Then he opened the door, and she stepped out, her legs shaky.

The next corridor led to a windowed room where another officer sat—a hefty woman with a gaze that said she wanted to eat Edwards for dinner.

“Edwards,” the windowed officer said, her tone dripping with curiosity. “What stray cat did you bring in today?”

Edwards cleared his throat. “I’m bringing her in for a 10-91C reported earlier, but it escalated.”

The windowed officer turned her attention to Suzi. “What’s your name, hon?”

“Judith Suzanne Burch,” Suzi replied, her voice steady despite the chaos within her.

They peppered her with questions, and Suzi complied, her mind racing. Soon, she found herself passing through yet another set of doors. The cuffs came off, her belongings were confiscated, and they snapped her photo and took digital fingerprint scans. The process felt dehumanizing, like stripping away layers of identity.

Finally, they deposited her in a holding cell alongside other women who wore their misery like armor. Suzi’s head spun, and she tried to make sense of it all.

“Escort?” one of the other women asked.

Suzi blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Do we look like an escort!?” Judith’s astonishment echoed in Suzi’s head.

Annie chimed in, her excitement palpable. “Do we look like an escort?!”

“Work it, baby girl!” James said.

“Are you an escort? Ya know- a hooker?” the woman repeated.

Suzi’s disbelief morphed into frustration. “No. No, I’m not an escort.”

The conversation hung in the air until the door swung open, revealing a furious Phineas. “Assaulting an officer? Suzi! What the hell? I can’t make that go away!”

Desperation fueled her response. “But I’m in. I’m here. Get me close to Isaacs. I’ll find out everything. I don’t care about this other bullshit.”

Phineas’ refusal deflated her. “I can’t! You have to be arraigned before the judge. Issacs is in interrogation resolution. We can’t hold him any longer, and you would have been able to do your thing while in questioning—not custody.”

“Fuck my life. I’m sorry.”

Detective Wilson stepped in, his weariness evident. “It’s okay. We’re tailing Isaacs. He’ll slip up soon enough. Now spill—what happened out there? Who did you assault?”

Suzi hesitated. “I don’t know his name. Gravelly voice. Stood on my neck. And I—”

“Wait. Romao? Charlie Romao?” Wilson’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, I think they called him Charlie.”

Wilson’s assessment was swift. “He’s a douche. Probably deserved it. His ego won’t let him take a beating from a little girl like you.”

“I broke his nose and choked him out,” Suzi corrected.

Wilson grinned. “Even better. He’s got a long history of police brutality and excessive force. I’ll push the subject and see if I can get him to drop all the trumped-up charges, but the traffic violations, I can’t do anything about.”

“Thank you, Phineas.”

He chuckled. “You’re something else. I don’t know if I bought all this supernatural stuff, but I saw you take down those two guys in the garage, and now you take on a tough-as-nails cop. You are one hell of a sidekick.” His wink held a mix of admiration and disbelief.

She scoffed and smiled. “What’s this ‘sidekick,’ bullshit? I’m the hero.”