Novels2Search

Bait_Ch02

“Yes, police, I just saw a young man leave my neighbor’s house with a baby in his hands … What do you mean that’s normal? It’s two in the morning, and some strange man is driving off with someone’s baby! … If that man is the father, then where is the mother? This is a kidnapping! … Yes, I rang the doorbell, no one answered.”

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He yawned, still keeping his hands on the wheel like a good driver should. He held a softer gaze due to the unshed tears that brimmed in his eyes. Even as he surveilled the road from side-to-side for potential obstacles, not a single drop spilled onto his prominent cheekbones.

His car cruised along the recently paved road, allowing the wheels to gently roll over hills of the darkest black asphalt. He soon pulled up to his street address and was greeted with a commotion of flashing blue and red lights from the several cop cars that were parked haphazardly along the wide street.

He couldn’t stop in the middle of the road as if he were a spectator to the turmoil. And so, he drove on, passing parked police cars without a fuss.

A house was singled out by a cop car, which sat on the front lawn, menacingly. Flattened grass trails were left in the wake of the intruding vehicle there.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, allowing blue and red to bounce off his bulging hand veins.“Hippity hoppity, I am leaving the crime scene-ery,” a poorly construed rhyme he murmured when his car reached the other end of the street.

His car came to a rolling stop before the hinged barrier that enclosed the gated community. Without further ado, the car inched forward into range of the scanner that would automatically react to the keycard inside his glove box. But as the gates moved to open, they stopped halfway.

Although, the malfunctioned gates would not open further with his keycard, he did have a two-ton vehicle that could force its way through. But that kind of haste would spell unwanted attention to himself from the officers in the vicinity.

Against that risk, he grabbed the leather duffle bag from the seat next to him, while his other hand popped the door open. He stepped outside, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He swung the bag’s strap over his head, readying himself before he would proceed to slip through the gates on foot.

The whine of sirens blared to attention from just behind him. The back of his ironed dress shirt was a canvas for unwanted color; from the glare of white emitted from another car’s high beams, to the splotches of blue and red that danced over his now inanimate body.

“Hands up where I can see them,” the police car’s PA system blasted, followed by a crinkle of static that trailed off at the end of the officer’s command. There was an unmistakable pop of a car door opening. “Turn around,” a male officer shouted.

He cautiously faced the officer, his eyes meeting the gun’s attached flashlight beam.

It was the vision many have seen before. The final act, or the ending performance that closes the curtain of liberty over their eyes, as someone wanted, as someone who is marked for life.

“Don’t move,” the male officer was quieter this time, though his warning carried the same intent.

A second officer roughly took both his wrists and stuffed him cuffs. The cop tightened the cuffs unapologetically around his thick wrists, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you …”

He shut his own ears at that.

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He sat on the cold metal bar, barely able to twiddle his thumbs with his tied hands. Hours seemed to have passed since he was put in this holding cell. It was his first time inside a police station, and just like everyone else who was in his place, he would like out.

The slight tilt of his head forward was the final push for several strands of his gelled hair to fall out of place. Those that brushed his forehead, casted streaks of unreadable shadows that split his upper face. Though the light from his strained eyes were not blanketed as he glowered at the wall. His eyes held no prey to hunt at the moment, yet still a majestic tiger within its glass cage nonetheless.

Officers by the dozens worked in this building’s floor. They paced back and forth, slamming cabinets and doors open or shut. The hum of fans rustled stacks of papers, atypical of any office setting.

Foot steps can be heard approaching his cell amidst all the bustle. A bearded elderly man unlocked his cell door, “Get up.”

He moved to stand, taking tentative steps toward the opened gap. As he stepped under the fluorescent light, he slammed into the officer with all the might his shoulder could muster, and all the lesser momentum his restrained hands could allow.

The old man staggered and tipped onto the floor, giving an “oof” as he landed on his back. … Except this scene was a vision of what could have been. It never happened.

It was nearly impossible make an escape from a modern fortress of justice teeming with officers without a solid plan and multiple backups ready. He had resigned to his fate of a life ruined. All he could hope for was the chance that the police would not charge him and let him go scot-free.

The cop pulled him to a different room, bare, save for a table and two chairs. On the wall, there was a large, definitely not inconspicuous mirror overlooking the table. The only light source the room had to offer was the single dim bulb that hanged low by a black wire.

“Wait here,” the graying cop gruffly said as he closed the door from the outside.

He sat on the edge of a pulled-out chair. He could feel an ominous aura coming from the mirror, but he paid no more mind to it, choosing to close his eyes while he waited.

The door opened again, and someone walked in, their shoes squeaking along the way.

He heard the slap of hands on the table. He returned the assault to his ears with a neutral gaze of his own as he opened his eyes to see a young man in a white dress shirt.

“I’m giving you the easy choice of no consequence to me, but I can’t guarantee the same for you. If you explain your crimes, I can go home. And yes, you heard that right,” the rust-haired man nonchalantly voiced.

He stared blankly at the other, licking his lips as if he was going to answer.

“You’re here for a reason. Confess,” he remained standing with his palms faced down on the table. His face leaned forward, then cocking his head as if to say, “What are you waiting for?”

Despite how sexy the officer was while interrogating him, he choose to keep quiet about that thought to himself. He wanted to playfully flirt with the rust-haired man, but not in this situation where being inappropriate might land him in the slammer for no other reason besides that. Instead, he shifted his head towards his side, seeing past his own reflection in the mirror.

“I could wait all day, but I don’t want to do that,” his lips pressed together into a thin line. The beginnings of a permanent crease dug into his forehead.

The stalemate continued with neither side budging in their resolve.

Then, the door clicked open, and an officer called from the doorway, “Detective Leon, I’ll take it from here.”

Leon's face shifted into something unreadable as his hands finally raised off the table, “Yeah, yeah, he’s all yours.”

He stepped out into the hallway. He was confused at this turn of events. Granted, he didn’t know much about the justice system, but his case seemed weird. They let him off the interrogation easily, so maybe they would let him go? His heart pounded with unrestrained glee at the thought of his release.

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A stark white door shut behind him with a heavy bang. Everything in this tiny windowless room screamed the makings of insanity; from the glossy walls that endlessly reflect the bulb’s white light, to the fully metal toilet directly facing the cot. There was no indication of time passing the moment the door closed him off from the conventions of everyday life.

Where they had put him couldn’t be called a holding cell or prison. It could be the lowest circle of hell, and he’d refuse to believe otherwise.

Was this even legal? he thought to himself. His back slid down against the door. He curled his face to his knees and closed his eyes, but light still reached him.

In a corner of the room, small figures of thick shadows wiggled into existence. But in this stark white and bright room, there could be no shadows.