ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (11 page)

At the police station, I sit in a chair facing Detective
Jameson and I try not to fidget. I keep my gaze down on my hand, which my mom
is squeezing reassuringly. Every so often she nods at what the detective is
saying. I'm in such a daze that I can barely take in what is happening around
me.

I’m in a police interview room.

I’m just a normal girl, generally law abiding except
for the recent speeding incident. I don’t know how I’ve ended up here.

The room is small, the walls close and with every new
question, I feel that they are closer. Things weren't supposed to turn out like
this. I always thought of my private life and my life goals to be two separate
things, but now I find them intrinsically linked. The dreams I had flash before
my eyes and I have to I bite my lip to stop myself from sobbing.

Rachel, who is standing behind me, squeezes my
shoulder for support. I touch her hand in thanks and suck in a deep breath.
Half of me is grateful to have the support of people who love me but their
concern just makes me feel even more mortified, even more of a letdown.

I sneak a peek at Cory. His face is blank and
expressionless, his cop face. As I watch, his eyes narrow in concentration as
he listens to the detective talk about revenge porn and the new legislation.
This isn’t just a college prank gone too far. This will have serious
repercussions, not only for me but for Drew too.

"Please continue with your account,
Allyson," Detective Jameson says.

He's finished explaining the last point so I pause for
a moment to gather my thoughts. I tell them the whole story about Drew, how
controlling he was after we had been together for a few months, breaking up
with him, and the threats after that. As I talk about the night at the party
and what Drew had threatened, I can't help but look up at Cory. I expect his
mouth to be set in a serious line and his eyes to reflect nothing of what he is
thinking. What I see is very different. His eyes blaze with barely contained
fury and a muscle in his jaw twitches. I look away from his face, feeling so
ashamed of what he knows about me and about what we did, and see his hands are
balled into fists at his sides.

The anger is practically radiating from him. I hope
he’s angry at Drew and what he’s done, and not at me. I know I lied to him, but
he must be able to see why.

The detective writes down everything I say. "When
did the harassing phone calls start?"

"Shortly after I broke up with him," I say.

"What's his full name, address, phone
number?" Cory asks, sounding as though he’s speaking through gritted
teeth.

"We'll get to that in a moment, Officer Carlisle.
Let Allyson tell her story," the detective says.

I squirm in my chair under Cory's angry gaze.

"Do you have any of the pictures?" Cory
asks.

The detective glares at him and doesn't respond this
time. He knows that our parents are engaged so obviously he understands why
Cory might be overstepping his position to try and ascertain what has happened.

I nod and search through my phone to find the
pictures. I blush when I see the first one and hesitate for a moment. Once I
hand the phone over, that’s it, everything will be out of my control. Although
mom and Rachel have seen them, Cory hasn’t. It’s his disapproval that I seem to
fear the most, especially since we had sex. How will he feel to see me doing
similar things with Drew that I did with him? Will he understand why I lied?

I hand the phone to the detective who swipes through
the photos, his face remaining neutral. Not even a spark of emotion filters
through and I’m grateful for his professionalism.

Cory moves to stand behind the detective, his eyes
taking in every picture that flashes on the screen. He looks up at me, his eyes
dark, then flicks back to the screen. I think that I see disgust in his
expression. I know that everyone has a past and that there was no way Cory
thought I was a virgin, but to be faced with pictures like the ones he is
looking at, he must think so terribly of me.

Slut.

That’s how I feel.

Dirty.

My skin feels itchy; underneath my clothes, around my
wrists, and between my legs. I have a sudden urge to clean my teeth, to try and
scrub away the taste of Drew that comes rushing into my mouth.

Unable to take any more scrutiny I stand and begin to
cry. Huge sobs wrack my body as I stumble toward the door, my only thought to
get out of that room so I can hide away and pretend that none of this is
happening. At least in the ladies’ room Cory can't look at me and see what I
really am.

Before I can reach the door my mom stands and pulls me
into a hug. Her arms tighten around me and I settle against her shoulder,
hugging her in return. Rachel stands beside my mom putting her arms around both
of us. I know I must be ruining mom’s blouse. She dressed up for our big
shopping day and she’s ended up in a grubby police interview room, clinging on
to her even filthier daughter.

"I know this is hard for you," the detective
says from behind me. "We'll need to keep these pictures as evidence. And
any others we encounter during our investigation."

"Okay," I say. The idea of the pictures
remaining at the station mortifies me but I understand why it has to be this
way.

"We need to put together a statement, then you
can go home while we carry out our investigation."

I nod and sit back down. It seems to take forever for
the detective to note down everything I’ve said. When he’s finally done I pick
up my purse. It had fallen from my lap when I stood and was in a heap on the
floor.

"I can drive them home," Cory offers.

I look over at him and for a fraction of a second see
genuine concern in his eyes. I remember how it felt to be cocooned in the
safety of his arms, to be totally at his mercy and yet feel utterly safe in my
submission. Maybe I’m crazy for feeling that there’s something between us
that’s more than just the residual connection that gets left behind after sex.

As much as I want to be close to him, to soak up his
strength and take comfort in his self-assurance, I’m so worried that I’m
imagining everything. I can’t handle disapproval or rejection right now. My
nerves and my heart are raw.

"I have my car," Rachel says. "I can
take Allyson back to her dorm."

And that’s all it takes for me to decide what happens
next.

13

CORY

I’m so mad right now I could snap Allyson’s ex’s neck
and feel absolutely no remorse. Fuck that guy for hurting her. Fuck that guy
for taking her trust and abusing it.

Fuck him for scaring her and for thinking he could use
those photos to get her to carry on their relationship.

I think about what might have happened to Allyson that
night of the party if we hadn’t been called to disperse the crowds. Drew had been
dragging her up the stairs when I stopped him. Another five minutes and things
might have been very different.

My fists are balled at my sides as I stride down the
hallway toward the men’s room. I need to get my head together.

Allyson looked so damn broken when she left the
station with her mom and her friend; hunched shoulders and puffy eyes. No one
has the right to do that to a person. To steal their self-esteem. To bring them
to their knees.

I think about what we did together last night and
shudder. I’d pushed myself on her, at the restaurant and in her dorm, stealing
kisses that I can’t be sure now she was totally on board with giving.

Now I know that I was right about her running from
something the night I caught her speeding. She was trying to get away from that
sociopath and there was I fantasizing about fucking her roughly by the side of
the road.

I shudder again, remembering how I’d held her hair and
made her suck my cock. Did she want to do that for me or was I too forceful?
She seemed to get off on everything we did. I felt her come and there was no
way she could fake that. Her pupils were dilated and her body showed all the
signs of arousal that I would have expected. I gave her a safe word and she
never used it.

The trouble is, with everything that she was going
through, I’m not sure she was truly in her right mind for making any kind of
sensible decisions. My heart sinks when I realize I was probably just a
convenient pair of arms, offering some kind of comfort while she was hurting.

I think about whether I should tell Detective Jameson
that we had sex. If they go to take evidence from her room, they are going to
find my DNA over everything. I don’t want to have to explain afterward. It’ll
make me look untrustworthy.

Untrustworthy is not a good look for a cop, especially
one with aspirations.

In the mirror, I look at my face that is shrouded with
worry. I’ve got hours left on my shift so I’m not going to be able to check on
Allyson for a while. I touch my cellphone that’s tucked into my belt, thinking
about dialing her number to tell her I’m sorry. Would she want to hear that,
though? Isn’t that something that would make me feel better? She doesn’t need
my apologies right now. She doesn’t need to be thinking about what we did when
she’s got other much more pressing things to on her mind.

I wash my hands and splash water on my face, running
my wet fingers through my hair and trying to make myself look less frazzled.

In the hallway, Simons is passing by.

“There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking all over
for you.”

“I was just freshening up.”

“Look, I heard about Allyson.”

I know my face must reveal such a mixture of emotions
and he doesn’t say anything more.

“Yeah,” I say and start towards the office.

“You know if you need anything…”

“I know man, thanks.”

“What’s gonna happen next?”

I shrug my shoulders because I have no idea. I’m not
gonna be a part of this investigation. I’m too close to the victim. What I do
know is that I’m going to make sure that whoever does run the case is going to
hunt that fucker down.

And if they don’t find him, I will, and when I do,
he’s going to wish he was never born.

14

ALLYSON

Rachel pulls her car into a spot in the parking lot by
my dorm and we walk the path to the building. I can feel people staring at me
as we make our way through the sparse crowd. Normally I would think I was just
overreacting or being paranoid. But today, after all those text messages, I
know they're looking right at me.

I pull my sweater tighter around my body, wanting to
hide as much of myself as I can, but I know it's useless. From this day
onwards, I’m not going to know who has seen those pictures. I won’t know for
sure if the cute guy that’s trying to pick me up at the bar has seen my mouth
around someone else’s cock or seen my legs spread, held apart by cuffs around
my ankles, secured to the corners of Drew’s bed. I’m not going to know if his
interest is genuine and of the moment or because of what he thinks he’ll be
able to do to me now that he’s seen the photos.

I can hear the whispers as we pass and I wish the
pavement would open up and swallow me whole. The whispers get louder as we
walk. The path leading to my dorm seems longer than usual.

I can't bear that all these people have seen the
pictures or at least heard about them, described in detail. How many computers
are now storing images of my shame? How many cell phones had them saved so they
can show even more people? I run toward the doors to the building and Rachel
sprints to keep up with me.

I don't stop running until we reach my room. My hands
shake as I open the door and enter the small space. I pace the floor, tears
streaming down my face. I dash them away but they won’t stop falling.

I reach into my purse for my phone, my usual
distraction if something is bothering me, but of course, it's not there. It's
at the station, where everyone can look at the pictures and read the text
messages from strange guys who would love a piece of my ass. Not knowing what's
going on somehow makes it worse. I should feel better letting the police handle
it but I hate not knowing how things are progressing. Will they find Drew? Will
he sorry? Will he confess?

I can't deal with this. The thought of continuing with
my course flies out the window. How can I be a teacher now? There is no way I
can face my professors. What if the pictures have somehow reached them too?
Drew said he would share them with everyone. Even if I did finish, who would
want me to teach their children with those pictures floating around the
internet?

An image of my mom flashes in my head. Smiling,
sympathetic, encouraging. How can I face her and Jeff after this? I know she’ll
think less of me. I’m her little girl and I’ve messed up so badly.

Then the look on Cory's face comes back to me and I
crumple to the floor, sobs racking my body. I cry into my hand, trying to catch
my breath but suddenly unable to breathe. Nobody is ever going to want to have
a relationship with me again.

"It's all going to be okay," Rachel says,
kneeling down next to me. The words are meant to make me feel better but I
can't see everything being okay ever again.

Rachel's arms come around me, and she rocks me against
her like I’m a child who’s fallen and scuffed her knee. I hold onto her,
wishing I’d had the courage to tell her and, in the midst of all my sorrow,
feeling awful for believing she’d judge me.

Sometimes it’s when you hit rock bottom that you see
who is genuinely on your side. Rachel strokes my hair, shushing my weeping and
eventually urges me to get up. She helps me to the bed and I sit on the soft
mattress, remembering how Cory kneeled before me, waiting for me to tell him my
story.

Would things have been different if I’d had the
courage to trust him, and if I hadn’t done my usual stupid thing of using sex
as a distraction from my hurt? The memories of Cory taking care of me after sex
are bittersweet. I’ll never feel his lips on mine or his gentle touch again.

I curl up on my side and press my head onto the
pillow. The coolness of it soothes me, the soft familiarity of my bed so
comforting. If I could just stay here forever, and never go outside again I’d
be okay. Rachel smooths a lock of hair off my face and pulls out her phone.
"I'll be right back."

She steps outside to make her call from the hallway
thinking I won't hear anything, but the walls in the dorm are paper thin and I
close my eyes to help me concentrate on her voice.

"Have you found him yet?" she asks.

I know she must be talking to Cory.

"How hard can it be to find that asshole?"
Rachel sighs and I can picture her rolling her eyes at whatever reason Cory has
given her.

Rachel steps back in the room, dropping her phone into
her purse.

"I’m sorry, honey, but I have to get to work. I
promise I'll come back when my shift is over," Rachel says.

I nod, snuggle into the pillow more and pull the
covers over me. I haven't bothered to change into pajamas. I'm exhausted from
the panic, the investigation, holding in the tears and then letting them go. I
could sleep for a week if I was allowed to.

I take deep breaths to bring my breathing back to
normal. Tears threaten to spill again and the effort to hold them back makes my
throat ache and my head pound.

As far as I can see I have two options. Give up my
studies and leave school all together. Huddle in my mom's place with Jeff and
deal with people solely online, never seeing another human being again except
for them. Or I can move somewhere else. My credits so far should be
transferable. And pretend like this never happened. No one at a new school,
maybe out of state, would know anything about me except what I tell them.

The possibility of a court case terrifies me. I can't
deal with the accusations, my name being dragged through the mud, to get Drew
acquitted. Any defense lawyer would turn me into the bad girl, bringing up my
sexual proclivities and making it seem as though I was the one in the wrong.
Drew’s a very convincing liar and he’s managed to cultivate a respectable
persona to cover his manipulative ways.

Flashes of court room scenes from television shows
play in my mind. The victim on the stand crying while her moral character is
questioned. ‘Surely you didn't think this was normal behavior.’ ‘How can my
client be blamed for the actions he took when it was clear you liked to be
demeaned?’ ‘Wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?’

I take another deep breath to stop a fresh wave of
tears.

I hate that Drew has put me in this position. Anger
and shame well up inside me and I want the bed to swallow me whole.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my musings.

I wonder who it could be. Maybe it’s Rachel. Did she
leave something behind? Maybe she decided to blow off work and come back. It
would help keep me occupied if we chatted about anything except what’s going
on. I have a new magazine we could look at. I need something light and fun to
take my mind off things. The thought of commiserating with Rachel, maybe
ordering in pizza later and binge watching mindless comedy shows lifts my
spirits slightly.

I push myself off the bed and pad slowly over to the
door. Just as I turn the handle someone pushes the door hard, catching me on
the forehead. Sharp pain radiates out from the impact. I feel myself falling as
if in slow motion or like I'm drifting limp to the bottom of a swimming pool.
Before I hit the floor rough hands grab me under my arms and haul me upright.
This isn't Rachel. The beginning creep of panic flows through me but I feel
myself drifting into unconsciousness.
 

I look to the right just as a hand comes over my
mouth.