C.A.K.E

Chapter 18: Mugshot

"Do you have any other piercings or tattoos, ma'am?" The female intake officer holds open an envelope

for Arden to place her jewelry into it.

"No," she replies as she removes her earrings. The brilliant diamonds encircling her left ring finger are

the last to go. She slips the rings off her hand, having to give the precious metal a little tug.

The officer waves a metal detector wand along Ardi's body. When the device reaches her waist, it goes

crazy. The woman's expression sours.

"You sure you don't have any piercings or weapons hidden on you?" She eyeballs Ardi when she

assures her that she's not concealing any weapons or belly piercings underneath her cotton skirt.

"Lying to me is only going to make this harder on you."

Arden takes a breath before explaining why she'll set off every metal detector within a hundred-mile

radius.

"I have metal implants in my hip and both knees, along with titanium rods in my left femur and tibia.

There are also several pins in my right leg and ankle."

She pauses to let the woman take in what she said. Her expression still seems skeptical.

"If you check my wallet, there is a card in there that will verify everything." Arden shifts her weight to

her other foot and glances up at the ceiling. "Or if you'd prefer, I can show you the scars."

The woman frowns at Arden before reaching for the handbag. She watches the officer locate the small

piece of plastic that indicates Ardi is indeed a bionic woman. After a cursory scan of the card, the

woman places it back into the wallet and continues the standard booking procedure.

The officer rifles through Arden's belongings, spreading the contents of her purse onto a worn counter.

She documents and bags every item that might be considered contraband. When she pulls a bottle of

painkillers from its depths, she glances up at Ardi.

"I have a script for those," Arden says in an almost whisper.

"Then you won't mind if we check with your doctor."

"Whatever you need to do, officer." She sighs. The beginning of a headache is scratching at her

delicate composure.

A light frisking, a urine sample, and a few mugshots later, Arden is sitting with her right handcuffed to a

bank of rickety plastic chairs. It's the middle of the day on a Wednesday. There are only three other

people in the open area of the intake room.

If it were the weekend, an endless parade of the drunken and disorderly would be punctuating the

relative silence. Good thing Melinda sprung her trap sooner rather than later.

Arden tries to keep her eyes trained on the floor, attempting to distract herself by counting the dents

and scratches in the speckled white tile. But she can't shake the feeling that someone else's eyes are

on her.

She angles her head to the side, examining her surroundings in her peripheral. A female desk clerk is

staring at Ardi like she stole her man. The woman doesn't look familiar. But that has never stopped

anyone in this town from developing an uninformed opinion about who Arden is.

Lillian's death and Warren's campaign thrust Ardi into a blaring spotlight that was equipped with a high-

powered microscope. Before she could get a handle on a solid opinion of herself, the whole city had

written an identity for her.

Five minutes before the accident, Arden wouldn't have minded the attention. She was a great student,

star athlete, and Olympic hopeful. Her talents deserved recognition.

But after that day, she was the girl who had survived the gruesome crash on the Southside. Then she

was Senator Warren Mitchell's daughter. No one knew Arden―not in a real sense. Everyone knew

what they read about her. But very few people bothered to go beyond that.

Arden doesn't know what this woman may have heard that's sticking in her craw. But whatever it might

be, is her own damn problem. There isn't space in her mind at the moment for any more jealous

women.

She looks up and catches the woman glaring at her. Her first instinct is to roll her eyes. Then she

reconsiders. Conjuring up her sweetest smile, Ardi grins at the woman until she looks down at her

desk.

Little Miss Attitude goes back to her work, allowing Arden to concentrate on calming her fried nerves.

Her mind wanders to Elliott. Then guilt creeps up from her gut and settles into the seat beside her.

Just as the feeling of Casper's lips flashes into her conscious thoughts, her husband comes through

the door. Guilt is replaced by a rage that threatens to consume her.

Elliott is escorted into the processing area by two officers. He begins struggling in their grip when he

spots her.

"Arden, darling. I am so sorry." Eli shakes his guards and rushes over to her. He bends to kiss her,

widening his stance to steady himself. Both of his hands are cuffed in front of him. But he ignores his

bindings long enough to caress her cheek.

"This isn't your fault." Ardi grasps his hand with her free one and shakes her head. She grits her teeth

as the words escape her mouth. "Do not apologize for her."

"Okay, that's enough." One of the officers admonishes Eli, attempting to separate the two. After some

effort, their hands are pried apart. "Let's go."

"Elliott, we'll get out of this." She calls after him as he is all but dragged down the hallway. Biting her lip

to fend off the tears building in her eyes, she waits until he's out of sight to release a low agitated grunt.

When she turns her head, she finds that once again the female desk clerk's gaze has fallen upon her.

This time the woman doesn't look away, and neither does Arden exercise her infallible southern

manners.

Glaring back at the woman, she fires off a rhetorical question. "The fuck are you looking at?"

The officer sucks her teeth and shuffles a stack of papers. Then she picks up the landline and relays

something to the person on the other end in a hushed tone.

A few minutes later, a rather tall gentleman emerges from the back offices and makes his way over to

Arden. The man spends what seems like an eternity towering over her before speaking.

"Mrs. Stone?" She glances up at him. He pulls a key from his pocket and undoes the end of the

handcuffs that are attached to the seat. Taking hold of her elbow, he helps her stand.

Choosing now to introduce himself, he fastens her hands behind her back again. "I'm Captain Lane.

There are a few questions I need to ask you. Is that all right?"

She nods and Captain Lane escorts her to an interrogation room with nothing but a wooden table and

two more hard plastic chairs. The instant she steps into the room claustrophobia hits her. Tight quarters

have never bothered her, but being stuck in this one with a member of law enforcement has awakened

her inner neurotic.

He seats her in the one farthest from the door and then removes the cuffs from her hands. Lane

discards the handcuffs on the table along with the key.

Thankful to be free of her restraints for the moment, Arden begins rubbing her wrists. It no longer feels

so much like the walls are closing in on her. As that feeling subsides, Arden takes the opportunity to

study Captain Lane while he unbuttons his suit jacket and takes the seat across from her.

Met with a pair of deep brown eyes, she tries to discern whether or not he's an agent of the dark side.

His headful of salt and pepper hair and matching trimmed goatee might suggest he'd be more at home

seated by a fireplace wearing a mohair sweater with a cigar perched between his lips. There are

probably a couple of grandkids somewhere that he should be waiting for in a carpool line, not playing

good cop/bad cop with her in this sparse room.

Unable to determine the presence of any bias from his stoic expression, Arden waits for him to break

the suffocating silence. She takes a deep breath. Though her insides are more muddled than the

Alabama dirt after a heavy rain, she's determined to maintain a placid demeanor.

"Mrs. Stone, I'm going to be straight with you." He produces a manila envelope that's been tucked

underneath his arm and lays it on the table between them. Then he pushes it aside. "We found drug

paraphernalia in your home. But your drug test is clean."

He leans back in his chair and scratches at the neat hairs on his chin, keeping his focus on her the

entire time. Arden does her best not to squirm. But his eyes seem to be boring into her. Her innermost

thoughts aren't expecting company, so he needs to take that penetrating stare elsewhere.

"You look like a woman who's never so much as ingested a poppy seed ..." he muses. "Something

doesn't quite equate."

Ya damn skippy something doesn't equate.

He may have some sense after all, though nothing in his static demeanor has given her a concrete

reason to believe so. Lane regards her with the same disinterested look on his face.

Ardi decides that it's best for him to pose a direct question to her before she volunteers anything. At

this point, words are precious ammunition that should be used with careful measure.

Plenty of people have gone down for stupid shit because they couldn't keep their mouths shut. Her

effortless poise has given her a safeguard against any mindless rambling.

"Arden." Lane rests his elbows on the table and sighs. "I don't know who you've pissed off, but

someone has it out for you." He grabs the envelope and pulls out a few sheets of paper along with a

couple of photos. "And unfortunately some of the officers at this precinct have fed into the farce."

Thank God at least one person hasn't been snowed by Melinda's storm of lies. The tense tide of

emotions crashing up against the shores of her weathered mental state begins to recede, taking with it

the bear of a migraine that's been rampaging through her head.

He slides a piece of paper to her across the table. At first, Arden just glances down at the document,

reluctant to surrender the piercing gaze she has on him. Then she notices the letterhead on the paper.

It's a transcript of the call that was made to Child Protective Services. She reads over the page, her

eyes burning with every falsified word about her and Eli's life with the twins.

According to this, she and Elliott are both addicts who aren't even particular about their drug of choice.

Everything from homegrown meth to high-end cocaine and prescription pills is mentioned in the laundry

list of illegal substances the Stones are alleged to abuse.

There's also an allusion to a bustling drug trade that uses Arden's place of business as its hub. The

form reads like the front page of a gossip rag.

The accusations that are aimed solely at Arden are more outrageous. Melinda claims that Ardi starves

Rowan and Teagan, forcing them to work all hours at her bakery for leftover food. The loathsome bitch

even went so far as to allege that Arden has beaten the children on several occasions.

"None of that is true." Her hand trembles as she slides the paper to the officer. "This entire thing has

been instigated by my husband's ex-wife."

"Well, that explains a lot." Detective Lane mutters something to himself and spreads the pictures before

her. "This anonymous caller knew exactly where to find your supposed stash."

"She planted this." Shaking her head, she examines photos of the needles found in the downstairs bath

and a plastic baggie of a white substance that was wedged between the sofa cushions. "Her boyfriend

must have hidden that there."

"There's really no explanation needed." He raises his hands to halt her speech. "For someone who is

supposed to be running a large-scale drug smuggling operation, there was very little evidence of

anything of that nature found in your home or business."

Placing the photos back into the envelope, he interlocks his fingers and begins twiddling his thumbs.

"What I would like to know is why this woman has targeted you and your husband."

"Captain ..." She pauses to release an exhausted breath. "I'm sure there's someone from your past

who would love to see you suffer."

"There have been one or two." He nods. "But the most a woman has done to me is key my car, or lace

my shampoo with a depilatory. None of them has gone to the trouble of falsifying evidence to have me

arrested."

"If I could understand Melinda's warped mind, I'm sure I'd be the next Nobel Prize winner." Arden wraps

her arms tight around herself. "Not even Freud could crack that nut."

That gets a quick laugh from him along with a shake of his head. But the smirk is short-lived. He

recovers his all-business expression within seconds.

"Is there any possibility that even a shred of these allegations could be true?" he asks, staring Arden

dead in her eyes.

"No." Her tone even and definite, she doesn't shrink from his scrutiny. "Elliott and I would never

jeopardize the safety of our kids."

Captain Lane spends another minute or two in contemplative silence, seeming to be wrestling with

some dilemma. Then he sighs and rises from his seat.

Asking Arden to stand and place her hands in front of her, he handcuffs her wrists again. The action is

gentle, done with more care than the two overzealous rookies who arrested her.

"It looks like my officers might have jumped the gun on this one. If this has indeed been a

misunderstanding, you have my apologies, Mrs. Stone." Before he reaches for the door handle, he

makes Arden a promise. "I will see to it that everything is straightened out as soon as possible."

Not yet willing to abandon her reticent attitude, she offers him another nod in return. He takes her

elbow, guiding her out of the room and down the narrow hallway. Instead of being seated in the main

holding area again, Arden is placed in a solitary cell.

Once Lane has cut her off from the less-than-favorable atmosphere of the rest of the precinct, her

senses take in the stark surroundings. It's no Four Seasons. But at least she doesn't have to worry

about any other offenders or fighting for her jailhouse virginity.

She expresses her gratitude for the relative privacy with a silent prayer. With her sanctified moment out

of the way, she asks God to turn a blind eye to her next thoughts.

Sitting on a bench that's been bolted into the brick wall, she works out the logistics of her murder plot.

Her current environment serves to further fuel the bloodthirsty images running through her mind.

First, I need to start seeing that hack therapist again. If I talk crazy enough, maybe I can swing a

diagnosis of bipolar or dissociative identity disorder. Whichever one will make that temporary insanity

defense most plausible.

Yeah, yeah. Then one of my 'alternates buys a plane ticket to New York, round trip. Elliott can't know. If

I make up something about a wedding convention, that might work. I'll need a boning knife, couple

pairs of leather gloves, a few plastic tarps, garbage bags, zip ties, Lorazepam . . .

The heavy steel door unlocks with a mechanical click, interrupting her homicidal calculations. A

plainclothes officer enters the small cell with her.

"Arden Elizabeth Mitchell." She keeps her head lowered. Almost twenty years have passed, and she

still recognizes his voice. Its slow drawl rakes across her skin like hot coals. "Oh, how the mighty have

fallen."

She can feel his eyes roaming over her body. Wishing she could shed her skin or scrub it clean off her

bones, she meets the smug expression of the officer. Light-skinned, hazel-eyed, and a headful of soft

curly black hair, he's still the same.

Gavin Taylor.

Her high school boyfriend stands before her as good-looking as ever. But Arden remembers what lies

underneath that handsome exterior. And it's far from glamorous.

"The name is Stone now, as I'm sure you are well aware." She takes notice of the shining badge at his

waist. "Didn't realize they were allowing mitches to join the police force. Times certainly have changed."

He smirks and takes a seat next to her. The smell of his cologne repulses her. The cloying scent stings

at her nose, inducing a feeling of nausea. Ardi positions her body as far away from him as possible,

nearly slipping off the edge of the hard metal bench.

"But I see that smart mouth of yours hasn't missed a beat." Gavin skims his finger along her cheek,

making her flinch. "Told you it would get you in trouble one of these days."

She rolls her eyes at him and turns her head. Giving him the privilege of a response would be opening

the door for him to dig deeper into her business. There's enough on her plate without the addition of

another crazy ex. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

"So I hear you're doing heroin now. Elliott get you started on that shit?" He leans forward, resting his

elbows on his knees. She continues to ignore him. "Figures. Give a white boy an African queen and he

just runs her into the ground."

Last she checked Gavin's father was still a white man. It takes everything in her to keep that retort to

herself. Her silence just seems to fuel him.

Gavin never did operate like normal people. Anyone else would shut up. Not him though. He's a dog

looking for a bone. And Arden looks like his next chew toy.

"I must say though, for an addict you look . . . exceptional." Gavin traces his hand along her leg until he

reaches the hem of her skirt. "Where you hiding the track marks, huh?"

"Don't touch me." His fingers begin to lift the material draped over her skin. Arden jerks her leg away

from him.

"The only reason you're not sitting in a cell with the other junkies and prostitutes is because of me." He

snickers and gives her a sidelong glare. "A thank you would be nice."

"Is that right?" She narrows her eyes at him.

"It is." He licks his lips and puts his hand back on her knee. "So you might want to skip your usual self-

righteous good girl act."

She doesn't attempt to move away from his offending touch. Instead, she just glances down at his

hand, before looking up into his light eyes.

"In that case, Gavin ..." With a nod of her head, she urges him to come closer. Dropping her voice

down to its darker boudoir tone, she leans in to whisper in his ear. "Put your hands on me again ... I'll

break every bone in your pathetic body, and then grind them into dust. Are we clear?"

Arden pulls away from him with a devious smile on her lips. The way she's feeling at the moment, she

would have no problem going through with her threat.

"That just sounds like foreplay to me, baby." Gavin lets his hands get familiar with her skin for another

second or two, then smiles at her. "Besides, we both know you like it a little rough."

"There's a big difference between rough and violent, Gavin." Arden cuts her eyes at him. If looks could

kill, he'd be six feet under a pile of dirt and heavy cement.

He scoffs, eyeballing her. "According to you, there is."

"According to the law, Gavin," she growls, hoping the totality of the disdain she has for him is conveyed

in her voice.

A silence as sharp as a samurai's blade builds between them. Every muscle in Arden's body tenses in

anticipation. That demented gleam still shimmers in his cat eyes. A cold shiver inches down her spine.

Being around him is like playing Russian roulette with a faulty machine gun. It could go either of two

ways, you squeeze the trigger and nothing happens, or you're obliterated. A middle ground doesn't

exist with him. There's something unnerving about a man who's even more charming than he is pretty.

Several years have passed since the last night she set eyes on Gavin. And it's still a day too soon that

he's sitting beside her again.

He was her first real boyfriend. The two met through mutual friends when they were both seventeen.

Before the accident her life revolved around academics and her athletic career, then life became about

physical therapy and learning to cope with her mother's death. The constant doctor visits and never-

ending schoolwork left little time for a social life.

And Ardi was just fine with that. Her misery didn't need any company other than a good book.

But the basketball player with glowing eyes and a nice smile seemed harmless enough. And her sitting

at home was getting old. So she agreed to go out with him. He turned on the charm, and his spell

began to work its magic on Arden.

On days when he wasn't working or attending basketball practice, they would have picnics in the park

or go to the movies. Hazel-eyes even wrote her poetry. It wasn't Shakespeare. But no other boy had

put out that kind of effort.

Then again, the only romantic interest she'd had before him was an unrequited crush her freshman

year. Being Warren Mitchell's daughter didn't have many suitors lining up at her door even before his

official foray into politics.

The Mitchell family has been a powerful presence in the business and political landscapes of the state

for several generations. Arden's paternal great-grandfather found enormous success in Birmingham's

once-booming iron industry for which the city earned the moniker of "The Magic City." From there the

Mitchells invested in telecommunications.

Warren Mitchell is still chairman of a major communications company. It boasts some of the world's

major providers of wireless and landline phone services as subsidiaries. In short, Arden's family has

been making money in their sleep for years.

That kind of earning power can intimidate most, but Gavin didn't seem to be the least bit bothered that

Arden had a father who was well-connected and very protective of his daughter. That lack of fear might

have been more indicative of his true personality than anything he ever said.

She and Gavin only dated a few months. During that time, he succeeded in breaking down the wall Ardi

had built between herself and the rest of the world. Not even the psychiatrist Warren had suggested

she start seeing could do that.

Everyone else got a superficial answer, but Gavin knew that Arden was far from okay.

When nightmares kept her from sleeping, he spent hours on the phone with her. They would talk until

dark bloomed into dawn. He was the one person who knew the reason Arden began refusing to take

her pain medication, or why she couldn't look in a mirror for months after the accident.

At a time when she couldn't trust herself, she trusted him.

Gavin could have very well shaped up to be the perfect husband. She might have even loved him had

he given her the time to figure out what she was feeling. The loss of her mother was still fresh, made

even more difficult by the subsequent trial of the drunk driver who turned her world upside down. All he

had to do was be patient.

One night he must have gotten tired of the occasional kiss goodnight because he didn't take her

straight home after their date. Instead, he stopped in a secluded area not far from the Mitchell estate.

After a few minutes of trying to coax Arden into giving him what he wanted, he decided that he was

going to take it. He forced her into the backseat of his '84 Corolla and tried to tear off her plaid mini-

dress.

The attack took her by complete surprise, which is what he wanted. He expected to move with enough

haste that she wouldn't have time to realize what was happening until it was too late. But what Gavin

didn't count on was that even though she'd just re-mastered walking without the aid of arm crutches,

Ardi wasn't weak.

She broke his nose and left him bleeding in the middle of the darkened field as she drove herself home

in his car.

Warren took one look at his daughter's ripped clothing and bruised skin before he was tearing out of

the driveway and hunting down Gavin's sorry ass.

Arden's father leveled assault charges against him. But in the end, he got off scot-free. The judge took

pity on the young man and gave him a year of probation. His record was expunged on his eighteenth

birthday, hence his presence in front of her right now.

"Twelve years and the white boy still hasn't managed to break you." He puts his lips to her neck,

inhaling her soft scent. "Guess it's still up to me."

Gavin slips his hand up her skirt and tries to urge her backward on the bench. Arden twists away from

him to gather her momentum and rams her elbow into his face.

The motion puts a strain on her wrists, making the unyielding metal of the handcuffs cut into her skin.

But the blood beginning to trickle from his nose makes the pain bearable. She gets to her feet, staying

on her toes as she watches for his next move.

"You fucking bitch." He touches his face and grimaces. Then he does something that makes her blood

run cold. The bastard smiles at her, showing every single one of his teeth. "I still owe you for the last

time you broke my nose."

"So you do remember me kicking your ass." She smirks at him. "But I'll still give you a refresher course.

This one's on the house."

"You got lucky." Gavin approaches her. She takes a step back for each one he makes toward her. "I'm

the one running the show now. And there ain't shit you can do about it, sweetheart."

Now standing in front of him, she takes a quick scan of his form. It looks like Gavin has spent most of

their time apart in the gym. The police academy must train its cadets well. Either that or crazy just

tends to get better with age.

She tries to fit in the occasional swim or bike ride on the weekends. But it's nothing like her old training

regime, or even the rigorous physical therapy routine she endured for almost three years of her life.

The combination of the two of them in this six-by-eight cage could end any number of ways. Either way,

she's going to make sure he doesn't walk out of here unscathed. If she can help it, he won't be walking

out of this cell at all.

Arden takes a ragged breath and gathers what strength she has left. The two spend another few

seconds glaring at each other, neither saying a word. Then Gavin rushes toward her, wrapping his

fingers around her neck. He presses her against the brick wall, tightening his grip.

Ardi gasps for air as her feet begin to lift off the ground. One of the studded flats slips off her feet and

claps against the tile floor. Her head begins to pound as pressure accumulates in her brain, its

connection with the rest of her body being impeded by a psycho's hand.

"Let's see one of your little tricks now, Ardi." He gets closer to her face, seeming to relish her inability to

breathe. "Come on. Show me what the daddy's girl can do."

His words seem muffled to her. Sight and sound are beginning to abandon their posts as her body

screams for its air supply. Starting to feel lightheaded, she forces herself to stay cognizant enough to

figure some way out of his grasp.

Before she slips out of consciousness, he offers her some leeway. He presses his lips to hers,

attempting to shove his tongue down her throat. She bites down as hard as she can on his flesh.

The tactic does the trick. Gavin releases her, once again clutching at his face.

Doubled over and taking greedy gulps of air, she keeps an eye on him through her blurred vision. He

groans and stomps his feet, trying to ride out the sharp pain. While he's nursing his newest wound,

Arden calculates her next move.

Ardi glances down at her cuffed hands. There's a slight gap between her wrists and the cold metal. She

takes another look at the wounded man crumpled on the floor a few feet away from her.

With her left hand acting as leverage, she begins to maneuver her right hand out of the metal bracelet

with feverish urgency. Tears form on the rims of her eyes as the unforgiving material scrapes against

her skin.

The progress is slow. And right now that's a four-letter word that she can't tolerate. When she reaches

the ridge at the base of her thumb, the cuff's movement all but halts.

Arden checks on the status of her attacker. Quicker than she hoped, he's on his feet and pulling off his

jacket. The glint off the handle of the gun holstered at his side catches her eye. Still holding one hand

over his mouth, he shakes his head at her.

"You are not behaving like the daughter of a politician, Arden." Gavin removes the cufflinks from his

shirt and lays them on top of his jacket. Rolling up his sleeves, he flashes the same sick grin at her.

"Daddy Mitchell would not be pleased to hear how rude you've been."

He continues to make vulgar references to her and the brief part of their lives that intersects. She

allows him to rant without interruption. Her energy is needed elsewhere at the moment.

Tucking her thumb underneath her other fingers, she's able to move the cuff a bit further down her

hand. Gavin is inching toward her, closing the gap between them with eerie patience. His measured

movements taunt her while she scrambles to rid her hands of their restraints.

Whatever he's going to do next, she has a better chance of defending herself with her hands' full range

of motion. If she's going to get these things off, it has to happen now.

She takes a deep breath and shoves the metal ring the rest of the way over her hand, taking some of

her skin with it. Ignoring the sting of the fresh abrasion, she readies herself for his attack.

Gavin flies from the opposite side of the cell, lifting Arden off her feet and slamming her onto the floor.

Her back makes contact with the hard concrete, making her gasp. A new fear takes over her as the air

vacates her lungs.

She gathers her strength and meets his assault with a quick blow of her own. Her fist connects with his

jaw, sending a shock up the length of her arm when it collides with the solid bone. She grits her teeth

as the pain blazes through her nerves.

He's stunned for a few seconds, but recovers. Her swing isn't what it used to be. The hit does more to

anger him than it does to inflict any real damage. He strikes her face with the back of his hand, causing

a small laceration to open up on her left cheek.

Using the empty end of the handcuffs as a makeshift pair of brass knuckles, she takes another swing at

him. This time the dense metal hits him square between the eyes. Having endured more than one blow

in approximately the same spot, this one weakens him enough for her to gain the upper hand.

She snatches the service revolver from his hip, while he puts his hands to his face. He rolls off her,

bloodied and cursing. Just as she trains the gun on him, a horde of officers appears at the door.

They rush to open the cell and swarm inside to relieve Arden of her pilfered firearm. Two officers

subdue her while the others tend to Gavin.

Then two more authoritative figures darken the entryway. A sense of relief comes over her when she

recognizes one of the men.

Warren steps into the now even more cramped space with a man who owns the same powerful

presence as he does. The other gentleman she recognizes as the Chief of Police.

He and Warren part the crowd of girls and boys in blue and make their way to Arden. Without having to

be instructed to do so, the officers holding either of her arms relinquish their grip on her.

Looking her over, Warren's mood rockets from worried to irate in a matter of seconds. His hand wavers

over the blood seeping from the cut on Ardi's cheek.

"Which one of you sons of bitches did this to her?" Warren's voice booms off the walls, bombarding the

eardrums of everyone who's piled into the close quarters.

"Detective, what the hell happened here?" Chief Todd turns back to Gavin who has been settled onto

the bench by a couple of his colleagues.

Stepping around the imposing build of the chief, Warren gets a good look at the detective. Fire takes

over his face, warping his features.

"He attacked her." Warren takes a step forward so that he can glare down at the pathetic excuse for a

man. "Just like he did when she was seventeen."

"I never touched her. Not then and not now." Gavin removes the cloth he's been holding up to his nose.

"When I entered the cell, she became belligerent. I had to use force to subdue her."

"Bullshit," Warren says through clenched teeth.

Sensing her father is about to decimate the police department and the entire city, Ardi touches his arm.

He takes her hand. But doesn't ease off Gavin.

"You got away with assaulting my daughter once. I'll be damned if it happens again."

"Mr. Mitchell, with all due respect . . ." Grinning like the Cheshire cat after he's smoked a mountain of

weed, Gavin leaves his seat and steps toward Warren. "Your daughter is a lying slut who . . ."

Gavin doesn't get the opportunity to finish his sentence. Warren delivers a quick and brutal hit to

Gavin's jaw. Chief Todd and another of the officers position themselves between the two and press

Warren back from his target.

"That's assaulting an officer, Senator. I want this man arrested." Gavin's words come out slurred and

thick. When no one makes a move to comply with his request, he looks puzzled. "What are you waiting

for? Cuff him."

"Neither Mr. Mitchell nor his daughter is under arrest." Todd's chest heaves as he speaks. "However,

detective, you will be placed in a solitary cell to await arraignment on charges of excessive force and

assault, plus whatever other disciplinary action that I deem to be appropriate. That is if I decide not to

terminate you."

"So I guess you're in his pocket just like the rest of this goddamn town," Gavin smirks and sucks his

teeth. "Hope the payday is worth it."

"I'm not in anyone's pocket, son. You want to stand in front of a judge and admit that a woman in

handcuffs beat the piss out of you, and managed to take your gun, be my guest." He runs his hands

over the gold embroidered bands that line the cuffs of his jacket. "It will be one hell of a story to tell the

boys at the bar tonight."

Gavin gives no further argument. Instead, he just stares daggers at Ardi and Warren while he's placed

in cuffs and escorted from the room. The others also file out of the cell.

Before they all leave the cramped space, Chief Todd asks one of the officers to remove the handcuffs

from Arden's other hand and send in the nurse to take a look at her.

Warren puts his arm around Ardi and helps her sit down. The nurse enters the cell and begins dressing

the scrapes on Arden's hands and the cut on her face. Her father doesn't let go of her the entire time

she's being tended to. Nothing else is going to harm his little girl as long as he's by her side.

"Mrs. Stone, we've tracked down your husband's ex-wife at her hotel." Todd pauses to remove the hat

from his head. "She and her boyfriend were in possession of about a kilo of heroin, which matches the

sample found in your home. He was also higher than a kite at the time of the arrest. So there's no

disputing the origin of the drugs or who used them."

Chief Todd goes on to say that charges will be brought against Melinda for filing a false police report

and felony possession. She will also be required to pay a substantial fine to the city of Homewood as

reimbursement for the time and resources that were wasted searching the Stones' residence.

He also assures Arden and Warren that Melinda and Armando will at least spend tonight in jail. They

won't be able to bond out until tomorrow morning. That knowledge brings some satisfaction to her. Mel

deserves a life sentence in hell. But one night spent in a jail cell will suffice for now.

Now there are only three other people on Arden's mind.

"Where are my kids?" she asks her father.

"They're at the house with John and Diane."

Arden breathes a little easier. Elliott's parents have their children. Now she just needs to know where

the hell her husband is.

"May I see my husband, please?"

"Of course, follow me." The chief leads them down the hall and back up towards the front of the

building.

Elliott sits near the entrance with his head in his hands. He's talking to himself. And by the tension in

his body, whatever is on his mind isn't nice.

He happens to glance up just as the three come into view. Jumping up with so much haste that he

almost leaves behind his skin, Eli runs to Arden. Warren lets go of his daughter's hand when he spots

Elliott moving toward them.

Sweeping Arden into an embrace that pulls her close enough for their bodies to become one, Eli buries

his face in her neck. He whispers a prayer of thanks that she's okay. It's not until he leans away from

her a little that he notices the marks on her face and hands.

"What happened to you?"

"Gavin Taylor," Warren states with a healthy dose of contempt.

"Your ex-boyfriend? He did this to you?" Eli bends to look into her eyes. "What the hell is he even doing

here?"

Warren pipes up again. "The little piece of shit is a detective. He attacked her in one of the cells."

"Jesus Christ. Are you all right?" Elliott surveys his wife with fresh panic.

"I'm fine, really. You should see him." She laughs, trying to ease his distress.

A commotion near the side entrance of the building interrupts Arden's consoling of Eli. Over his

shoulder, she catches a glimpse of Melinda and Armando being led inside in handcuffs. The pair is

ushered past Arden and Eli toward booking.

The women lock eyes, burning holes into each other. Arden smirks at Mel. But she keeps her mouth

shut. The winner of this round is obvious, and she's about to walk out of here a free woman.

With Warren and the Chief of Police walking ahead, they manage to avoid the few network news

cameras perched outside the municipal complex.

A black SUV is waiting for them with its engine running and the family driver, Othello, at the wheel.

Once the three are inside the vehicle's cooled interior and Warren has offered a quick thanks to Todd,

they speed past the unsuspecting reporters and set off for the Mitchell estate.