The cops told us that Harper needed to come to the station to give a written statement. Charlie and Cherry agreed to meet us there while everyone else agreed to go to Charlie’s and wait. It was in this unfortunate moment that I realized that these people were my family. They truly loved me and wanted to be there for me, to support me.
Harper and I climbed into the back of a police car and silently watched the harrowing scene around us. There’s something the lights on emergency vehicles do that make an already anxiety filled moment that much worse. As we drove to the station, the radio buzzed with static and updates on calls.
We walked up the steps to the station, Cherry and Charlie quiet citadels behind us. The station was busy despite the late hour. Phones ringing, loud booted feet stomping the linoleum floor. We sat in benches, waiting to be taken to another room. The double doors to the station opened in a rush, the wind swirling our hair as they brought a cuffed man in.
A cuffed John Bell.
He recognized us immediately.
“I told you I’d find you one day!” He screamed at Harper, struggling to get away from the officers’ grips. Instinctively, I hovered my body over hers. “You think to run from me?! I’m gonna’ to get out of here and when I do, I’m coming after you! Just wait, Harper! Just. Wait!” One of the officers yelled for him to shut up as the other violently tugged him into a nearby hall through a door labeled ‘Processing’. “I’m coming for you, Harper!” His voice echoed down the hall. “You’re mine! Never forget that!”
Cherry and I covered Harper as her body began to wrack with sobs. An officer from earlier that night named Torres signaled for me to bring Harper into a nearby office. I sat her down and pulled up a chair myself.
“I’m sorry, son, but you have your own statement to write,” Officer Torres said. He grabbed an official looking blank document and sat it in front of Harper with a pen. Another female officer sat in a desk opposite her as Officer Torres lead me out and into an adjacent office.
“I’ll be right next door, Harper. I’m not leaving you,” I said, as she reached for my hand. She nodded.
When both statements were written, we were asked to stay in touch since we didn’t have a contact number in case they needed Harper or even my testimony at the trial, if it went that far.
“What will he be charged with?” Harper asked the detective who took the statements.
“We’re not sure. Most likely vehicular manslaughter but considering the circumstances around the death,” He said, making Harper wince, “he may get second or third degree murder. We’ll let you know. Like I said, stay in touch.”
“Can he make bail?” I asked, worried about Harper more than anything.
“He can. Unless the judge decides he’s a flight risk.”
Harper began to shake beside me.
“It’s okay, Harper,” I said, rubbing the goosebumps that formed on her arms.
“He’s going to find me,” she said to no one.
“No, he won’t,” I said, we’re not listed anywhere. We don’t live anywhere,” I humorlessly laughed. “Please, stop worrying.”
“And the judge may consider his threat to you,” the detective chimed in. “There is a chance he won’t be given bail. Also, depending on the charge, his bail will be set fairly high. You’ll just have to wait and see but you can’t worry about things that haven’t even happened yet. Go home, or wherever it is you go and get some rest. Call us tomorrow afternoon. We should have some answers by then.”
“Thank you,” I said, leading Harper toward the double doors of the station.
Cherry and Charlie stood on either side of us again but Cherry held Harper’s other arm as we descended the steps. Charlie hailed a taxi van and we all climbed in.
Charlie’s apartment was bursting at the seams when we walked in. A few had fallen asleep but most had stayed awake, the worry that lined the room was tangible.
“What’d they say?” Aaron asked, folding his arms.
“They took our statements,” I answered him while setting Harper on a bit of couch that wasn’t taken up by sleeping friends. “They aren’t sure what charges will be given but they said we can call up their tomorrow to get a few more concrete answers.”
“And who was that guy?” Nat asked. “Do you know him, Harper?”
“Yes,” she said. “I used to live with him three foster homes ago. I thought he had been my friend until his insaneness started making an appearance. He’s a psychopath.” Harper looked up at me. “If only I had told someone about all that he’d done, that woman could be alive right now.”
Everyone started to protest but I cut them short. “No, Harper. I told you, you can’t blame yourself. You can’t be responsible for his actions. Stop blaming yourself. Seriously.”
“I can’t help it,” she said quietly. “I keep seeing her dead eyes staring up at me.”
Those who were awake rushed over to her and soothed her with words and hands. I could visibly tell that her heart had lightened at their proximity. It was like they were absorbing her pain through touch. I loved them for this. They loved her for me. They loved her because she was amazing.
Chapter Nine
For The Longest Time
Callum
Harper and I didn’t sleep a wink that night but finally succumbed around five o’clock in the afternoon the following Sunday, which worked out nicely as we had an eight o’clock appointment with my advisor, Sylvia, Monday morning. Both of us woke at five in the morning, silently getting ready in Charlie’s apartment. Everyone had left sometime after we’d fallen asleep. When I woke, I found a note from Charlie saying he was going to sleep at the studio so we could get some rest. He was so generous to me. Also, we hadn’t thought about it before but were awfully grateful that Cherry had our bags brought from her flat to Charlie’s.
“Are you ready?” I asked Harper.
“Yes,” was her simple answer.