Finn opened his door, lifted his hands, and climbed out of the car. I couldn’t see exactly what happened next but beyond the opened door I could see guns drawn and cops creating a bit of a perimeter around us.
It was like we were the true Bonnie and Clyde, in our own ambush, and my heart raced at the memory of the bullet-ridden car.
I stepped out behind him, since I was closer to his door than my own. I saw him being pushed to the ground, even as I registered that the same thing was happening to me. My heel caught in the back of my dress, and I felt a tug and something tear as I faltered and lost my ensnared shoe. I fell hard and found myself face first on the ground, my hands wrenched behind me, and I lifted my head, spitting at the gravel that had found its way into my mouth. My dress would be ruined—the dress I had wanted to cherish, the dress I’d been afraid to touch for fear of messing it up. It’s funny the things you think about when you’re being handcuffed.
My face stung, and I shook my head, trying to shake off the dirt and bits of debris that clung to my face. I felt something wet slide down my forehead and drip down the left side of my face and realized my head was bleeding. I struggled to see Finn through the legs of the officers surrounding me and found him, head lifted, straining to see me too. His eyes met mine, and I saw his mouth move around my name. I couldn’t hear him though his head was only ten feet from my own. But I held his gaze for as long as possible, needing the contact in whatever form it took.
Hands slid up my body, between my legs, over my arms, patting up and down, and I shuddered and flinched and had to look away, the pat down all the more personal and invasive because I was sore in the way new brides are sore, tender in the way women are tender, and the hands that moved over me now were a rude parody of something that had brought me so much pleasure only hours before. I shivered, the damp of the evening seeping through the thin material and clinging to my bare arms, making me feel even more exposed. And then I was pulled to my feet and led toward a police car, away from Finn.
“What the hell is going on? Why is she being arrested?” I heard Finn shout, his calm completely abandoned, and then he was gone, shoved into the back of another police car, the doors unceremoniously shut on his outraged voice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
BREAKING NEWS: INFINITY James Clyde and Bonnie Rae Shelby, seen earlier tonight at the Academy Awards in an appearance that shocked the nation and rallied law enforcement, were detained after the Awards and brought separately to the LA County jail. Onlookers claim the newlyweds were in their limo, only blocks from the Kodak Theater, when they were surrounded by police and again, bodily detained and handcuffed. No charges have been filed yet, although warrants are said to be forthcoming. It is believed that Clyde will indeed be charged with kidnapping, though that seems difficult to substantiate, given what we saw earlier tonight. It is also likely that he will face attempted murder charges and car theft, in addition to several more related charges. We have no word on what, if anything, Bonnie Rae Shelby will be charged with, but she, too, has been detained and is currently at the LA County Jail.
HE’D BEEN THROUGH it before. He knew what to expect. But they’d arrested Bonnie too, and taken her someplace else. She would be feeling as scared and humiliated as he’d felt the first time, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to save her from it. Her face had been bleeding, and her dress was torn. He’d seen her fall as his face was forced into the dirt. And the sight of her wide eyes, trying to meet his as they patted her down had made him want to howl with fury.
When he’d been booked into jail the first time, he’d been terrified, but he had also been in shock, the shock numbing him to the humiliation of the fingerprinting, the mug shots, the strip search, and eventually, the bars that closed behind him. Eighteen years old wasn’t very old at all, and mostly he’d wanted to cry like the child he was.
He’d been arrested at the hospital, his brother on a gurney beside him. He hadn’t known where else to go. He’d driven to the hospital with Fish laying across his lap, not breathing. Not blinking. Blood everywhere. And he’d run through the emergency room doors soaked in it, yelling for help. They’d rushed Fish inside, but he was dead. And there was no saving the dead. Then the police had been called. His mom had been called too. And when they’d arrived, Finn had told them everything that had happened, his voice dull and emotionless. And they arrested him. His mother had been left with one dead child while another had been taken away.
He didn’t blame her for staying with Fish. She couldn’t come with him anyway. He’d been eighteen years old for all of three days—legally old enough to be charged as an adult, questioned without his parents present, and old enough to go to prison.
This time around they didn’t book him right away. Apparently, he was only being detained. Arrest warrants were on their way, according to the detective who brought him a glass of water and placed a yellow notepad and a pen on the table, cuffing his hands in front of him so he could write.
“You have the right to remain silent and to refuse to answer any questions. Whatever you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” But Finn didn’t want to remain silent. He was going to talk and talk and talk. He was going to tell them every damn thing they wanted to hear and a few they didn’t. They had put him into a holding cell for an hour when they’d first arrived—ostensibly so he could calm down. It was cold, the size of a bathroom, nobody there but him. It felt weird to be completely alone. He had been with Bonnie almost every second of the day since he’d found her singing in the park in the middle of the night and had known he never wanted to be apart from her again.