Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,44

that. It was probably a serial arsonist. I’ve heard of a few cases in the area.”

“Really?” Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Aspen is pulling stuff out of her ass or she’s being factual.

“Yeah, it’s been all over the news.” She watches the news? Whatever the case, I’m going with it. The thought of it being a serial arsonist comforts me more than focusing on the questions they’re going to pepper me with. I’m going to be a mess. What if I answer a question wrong? What if I don’t understand what they’re asking and my answers make me look guilty? Can I be guilty even if I really didn’t do anything? This is bad.

I run out of my room, grab my keys, and head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Aspen calls after me.

“I…I don’t even know.” She must have darted out after me because she grabs me by the arm, swinging me around to face her.

“Calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong, Felicity. They said they had to question you. That means it’s standard procedure…that’s all.”

I pull my arm out of her grip. “I need to get out of here.”

“Don’t you have work in a few hours?”

She’s right. But I can’t work like this.

* * *

I’m in my car driving to Mom and Dad’s when my phone rings. I almost choke on my own breath reaching for the damn thing. I pull the phone out of the cup holder and glance at the caller ID. Another number I don’t recognize. For a split second, I consider letting it go to voicemail. But that would make me a chicken-shit, as Blake would’ve called me.

“This is Felicity,” I say, answering.

“Miss Stone, this is Detective Earnst. We met at the hospital a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, I remember you.”

“I believe Detective Louis reached out to you just a bit ago, and I’m following up to see when might be a good time for you to come down to the police station? I’ll be here until four today.”

I’m breathing so hard my chest is beginning to ache. I don’t know how to respond. There’s a blatant pause between his statement and my lack of response. I have to agree. I have to tell him I’ll come down and voluntarily walk myself into the police station so I can be brought into one of those tiny dark rooms with a long table. The detective will hover over one side and I’ll be seated on the other, worried about every word I say, which may or may not incriminate me. “Miss Stone?” he prompts.

“I can come down right now,” I tell him.

“If it makes you more comfortable, you can bring an attorney with you. And of course if you need a little more time to retain one, we can set up a time later in the week that works for the both of us.” An attorney?

I don’t know an attorney…

“I’ll be down shortly.” The second I hang up I turn my attention to Google, praying it supplies me with a decent lawyer who can work on short notice. I scroll down the list and my eyes settle on a description that says “Available 24/7.” Maybe I should be concerned with the fact that this attorney picks his phone up on the first ring, or with the fact that he doesn’t have a receptionist picking it up for him, but I’m desperate right now.

After a short introduction and description of my situation, my new attorney, Mr. Williams, offered to meet me at the police station in an hour.

I drop my phone into my lap and practically strangle the steering wheel. I’m sweating, remembering the burning smell that stung my nose during the fire, waking me out of a sound sleep. I wonder how long it took me to smell the smoke. Maybe if I woke up sooner, things would be different.

After driving around the city for the past forty-five minutes, the police department parking lot appears before me, and my racing heart to holds steady at a rate that might make me pass out.

* * *

I hardly remember walking from the car to the front door, but I’m in front of a glass window, trying to remember my name, which has now been asked of me three times. I finally spit it out, drawing out every syllable. The window closes, and I hear my name spoken behind me. I turn to face a man with thick yellow-tinted glasses and a droopy jaw. His eyes look half