Stand Alone (4 page)

There was the garbled murmur of a radio. Justine honed in on it, frowning to herself. A burglar with a walkie talkie? Did he have a partner outside? She had been planning on slipping out behind him, if given the chance, but maybe she should brave the front door instead. The burglar’s partner might be out the back door waiting for her. As the man came through the doorway to the living room, he was momentarily silhouetted against the kitchen window, and Justine could see him cock his head toward his shoulder as he pressed the button on his walkie-talkie and reported something back. She froze, watching him. Just what kind of prowler was this?

He swept the flashlight around the room, and Justine’s momentary hesitation did her in.

“Freeze right there!” the dark figure commanded.

Justine stayed frozen. He shone the flashlight directly in her face.

“Who are you? What are you doing in this house?” he demanded, moving toward her.

Justine didn’t answer, squinting her eyes and trying to see him in spite of the blinding light.

“What are you, a cop?” she questioned, just able to make out a uniform.

He was close to her now, and he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face the wall.

“Hands on the wall,” he ordered, pushing Justine forward off-balance so that she was forced to catch herself with both hands on the wall. With one hand, he kept pushing the small of her back, keeping her against the wall, and with the other he checked her pockets, tossing everything in them on the floor. Then he pulled her back, pulling her arms down and behind her back and securing her with a pair of handcuffs.

“Are you police?” Justine repeated.

“Security,” he told her. “Police are on their way.”

He shone the flashlight in her face again, and then as the afterimages floated in front of her, shone the flashlight over the articles that he had removed from her pockets, and around the room.

“Outside,” he ordered.

“But my stuff
  
…” Justine protested.

“Police will take care of your stuff. Come on. Outside.”

He pushed her toward the back door, and Justine allowed him to escort her out of the house. He took her through the back yard, through the gate, out to the front again, and had her sit on the curb.

“Stay there and behave yourself,” he ordered.

In the light of the street lights, she could finally see him. A private security company uniform with the walkie talkie secured to his shoulder like a policeman. He was tall, heavyset, middle aged, white. His car was parked in front of the neighbor’s house, and another man, thin and aging with white hair, came over to confer.

“Did you check the rest of the house?” he questioned.

“Not yet. You stay here with her. I’ll make sure it’s all clear.” He looked at Justine. “There anyone else in there?”

Justine shook her head.

“No, just me.”

Justine twisted her head to watch him head back into the back yard and out of sight. She yawned, and wiped her mouth on the shoulder of her t-shirt.

“You do rounds every night?” she asked the older security guard.

He nodded.

“Yep.”

A police car with flashing lights pulled up to them, and a young officer got out of the car and came over to them.

“This your burglar?” he questioned unnecessarily.

“Yep,” the older guard agreed. “She was in the house. Daniel went back in to clear it. Make sure there was no boyfriend.”

“What were you doing in there?” the policeman questioned, turning to Justine.

Justine gazed up at him. She always liked policemen. Even when she was in trouble for something, they made her feel safe and secure. He had a friendly face. Clean shaven, crew cut hair. Eyes that glittered in the darkness. Justine smiled at him.

“What’s your name?” she questioned.

“I’m Officer Carter,” he said in a restrained voice. “What is your name and what were you doing in that house?”

“Sleeping. My name is Justine.”

“Justine what?”

“Justine Bywater.”

“How old are you, Justine?”

“Fifteen.”

“What were you doing in the house?” he persisted.

Justine shrugged, cocking her head at him.

“Just sleeping,” she said, smiling winningly.

The security guard came back out of the house and nodded at Officer Carter.

“You want the tour?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I’d better take a look.”

The two men went back into the house. Justine looked at the elderly security guard again, with a sigh. It was uncomfortable sitting on the curb, her hands handcuffed behind her back. She rolled her shoulders and shifted her position, trying to get more comfortable. Her tail-bone hurt. The two men weren’t very long, then they were back out of the house again. Officer Carter put down Justine’s board and other belongings.

“You’re not homeless,” he said to her.

“No,” Justine agreed. “I didn’t say I was homeless.”

“What are you doing sleeping in an empty house?”

Justine shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“I got too far from home, and I got turned around. I couldn’t find my way back. When I went by this house, I saw the broken window, and I went in
  
…
 
I just laid down for a minute to rest
  
…”

“You’re lying to me, and you’re not even doing it very well.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“Did you run away? Is that it?”

“No. I just couldn’t find my way home,” she said innocently.

“Why wouldn’t you call for help? You’ve got a phone,” he indicated it with the toe of his shoe.

“Battery is dead.”

Carter picked up her phone and pressed the on button. It didn’t power up. He tossed it back down on the pile of her stuff.

“You could have gone somewhere for help. You could have asked someone else for a phone. Gone to a store. There are lots of options.”

“I suppose. I was just confused, you know?”

He studied her, frowning.

“I can’t understand why you would break into an empty house to sleep there, unless there was something wrong with you.”

Justine felt her face flush, and hoped that he couldn’t see it in the dimness of the street. There was nothing wrong with her. It had just been an impulse. Something to do.

“Get up,” Officer Carter told her.

Justine got stiffly to her feet. It didn’t help that she’d been sleeping on the cold floor all night. Grasping her wrists behind her, Officer Carter felt her pockets to make sure that the security guard hadn’t missed anything.

“You’re under arrest for breaking and entering,” he told her.

“I didn’t break in! It was already broken. I just
  
…
 
entered.”

“It’s not your house, sweetheart. You can’t do that.”

Justine sighed. He walked her over to his car and opened the back door.

“Watch your head,” he advised, helping her in. Justine felt a warm flush of pleasure at his strong hands guiding her into the car. She lifted her feet in, and then he closed the door, shutting her in. She thought he would get into the car right away, but he spent more time talking to the guards, and went back into the house once more. Finally, he got into the front seat of the squad car.

It was a long and boring wait in the police station waiting area. Justine was handcuffed to a bench, her hands in front of her this time, between her legs. It was a little more comfortable than the concrete curb, but not by much. Her butt got numb as she sat there, watching other arrestees come and go. Lots of them were drunks, of all varieties. Homeless drunks, drunks dressed up for a night on the town, loud and amusing drunks, quiet morose drunks. Some of them were sick. Some of them barely conscious. Justine had no idea that so many people in the city got potted in one night. There were a few other arrests. A girl who’d vandalized her boyfriend’s car. A break-in at a liquor store. A knife fight between a tall, ordinary-looking gentleman and a short, long-haired, wild-looking Hispanic guy who bared his teeth at the observers. In spite of all of the comings and goings, Justine was bored. She couldn’t imagine what was taking so long.

Eventually, she saw Em come in and go up to the information desk.

“Em! Em, over here!” Justine called.

Em looked over at her and their eyes met. Em shook her head in disgust. Justine giggled at her expression. Em continued to talk to the officer at the information desk, and eventually Officer Carter appeared and nodded to her, motioning for her to follow him. Justine could hear his words as they approached her.

“She was sleeping in an empty house. Owners have a nightly security check, and they spotted the broken window and checked it out.”

“Justine,” Em said to her in frustration. “Again? Why do you do this?”

Justine shrugged.

“Hi, Em,” she said with a cheerful smile.

Officer Carter looked at Em with a frown.

“She’s done this before?” he questioned. “It wasn’t on her record.”

Em nodded.

“We managed to keep it off so far
  
…
 
she has a
  
…
 
a sort of a psychological problem. She doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just
  
…
 
sort of a compulsion. Is there any way
  
…
 
that we could pay for the window, and keep it off of her record?”

“It doesn’t sound like that has worked too well in the past.”

“She has an illness,” Em protested. “You can’t punish her for something she can’t control!”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Justine interjected. “Just because I don’t want to be with you, that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me!”

“She has a therapist,” Em told Carter, her voice rising over Justine’s. “You can call him, talk to him about it. He’ll explain it to you
  
…”

“Ma’am, it’s going on her record this time,” Carter said firmly. “You can’t keep trying to protect her. Let her take the consequences for her actions, and maybe she’ll learn.”

Em’s face reddened.

“Please, can’t you understand that we are trying to help her? It’s not about discipline
  
…”

“She’s breaking the law. She’s damaging other people’s property. My sympathy for her problems ends there. Is she on medication for this ‘psychological compulsion’?”

“Err—no. We’ve tried some medications in the past. It hasn’t worked out well. Right now we’re working on biomedical interventions
 
—”

“Diet?” Carter challenged. “How’s that working?”

“Well
  
…” Em trailed off helplessly, looking at Justine.

“Can we just get out of here?” Justine questioned. “I’m tired of all of the sitting around.”

Em looked at her, then looked at Carter.

“Did you get her papers at the front desk?” Carter questioned.

Em nodded, displaying them.

“That will tell you her court date. Go ahead and tell the judge that she’s mentally ill. Maybe he’ll let her off. But I wouldn’t count on it. We have laws for a reason. If she’s incapable of obeying the law, then maybe she should be in an institution where she can’t hurt anyone.”

Justine’s jaw dropped. Put her in an institution? She had been so enamored with Officer Carter; she couldn’t believe that he would turn on her like this.

“I don’t belong in an institution,” she told him, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“People who break into houses get locked up, one way or another,” Cart said flatly, entirely unsympathetic. “If you don’t want to be locked up, maybe you should stop breaking the law.”

Justine stared at him, mouth open, trying to think of a response. He bent over to unlock Justine’s handcuffs.

“I ran away,” Justine said quickly, trying to get him back on her side before it was too late. “You’re right, I ran away, and I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I just
  
…
 
the window was already broken, and I was just looking for somewhere to sleep for the night. I wasn’t even going to stay there. I just wanted somewhere to sleep, where no one could hurt me any more. Don’t send me home with her, she’ll beat me!” She let her sense of panic show, fueling the story. “I ran away to get away from all that. She’ll lock me up! You told her that I should be locked up, and she’s going to chain me in the basement again! She’ll whip me, and she won’t feed me, and she’ll lock me up
  
…”

“Enough,” Carter told her. “If you were a runaway, you would have told me at the house. I’ve dealt with plenty of runaways and abused children, and you’re not one of them. If you want to lodge a complaint, call Child Protective Services. You can use the phone over there. I’m not making a report, because it’s patently bull-crap.”

Tears started to run down Justine’s face, and she clutched at Carter’s arm. She wanted to stay there, not to be sent back home with Em.

“Please help me,” she pleaded.

“Help yourself,” he said, motioning again to the black phone on the wall. “The number is right beside the phone.”

Justine dropped her hands, letting him go.

“Thank you, officer,” Em said with a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

She gave Justine a little push toward the door. Justine startled at Em’s touch and recoiled, snarling at her.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Come on. Home.”

Justine followed her through the busy room, her stomach feeling tight and hollow. Out to the car. Justine grabbed her board and the bag of her belongings from Em and got into the car.

“What am I going to do with you?” Em demanded. Justine said nothing, staring out the window. “Maybe he’s right,” Em said. “Maybe I do just need to let you suffer the consequences of your actions. Let them lock you up. Maybe if I did that, then you’d understand the way the world works.”

Justine watched the night sky whip past outside her window. No stars, the streetlights prevented her from being able to see the night sky. Other than the moon. Once she and Christian had skated out to a hill, in the wildlife park. They laid down on top of the hill, away from all of the lights of the city, and stared up at the stars. Justine had never known there were so many stars.