Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I agree and grab my purse, keys, and phone to follow his lead.
Even though the station is only a few blocks away, Officer Walters drives me in his patrol car and cuts our travel time to five minutes flat.
He escorts me inside, past the lobby area, through a hallway that requires a badge to scan in, and into the back area of the station.
“Scottie?” A female voice fills my ears, and I nearly trip over my own feet when I glance over my shoulder to see my mom standing there.
Her normally pretty face is an exhausted mess. She has dark circles under her green eyes, her clothes are wrinkled, and her long brown locks are in a messy bun on top of her head. She’s me in about twenty years and a half million bottles of vodka. I hate how much I look like her.
“Can we talk?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Scottie, please, I know how awful all of this looks, and I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.” She starts to step closer to me, and I lift my hand in the air.
“No.” I look at Officer Walters. “Why is she here?”
“Mrs. Bardeaux is here because she wanted to update her statement with a few more details.”
“If you want me to stay here and give a statement, then she needs to go. I refuse to be anywhere near her.”
“Scottie, honey, don’t say that,” my mom begs, but Officer Walters is quick to abide by my request.
“Hey, Paul,” he calls out toward an officer who is sitting down at the desk my mother is standing beside. “Please take Mrs. Bardeaux to one of the back interview rooms.”
“Scottie, I just want a chance to explain. I know there’s no excuse, but I want you to know the truth.” My mom is completely ignoring Paul as he tries to lead her away, and the unexpected time with her is wreaking havoc on my nervous system.
Anxiety claws at my chest, and my knees buckle so hard that I have to reach out a hand to steady myself on Officer Walters’s desk.
“Mrs. Bardeaux, please follow me,” Paul urges, but it’s clear at this point that nothing short of manhandling her is going to stop her from walking toward me.
“I thought you and Dane were still together. He told me he was your boyfriend. He told me that you wanted to see me. He—”
“Ma’am.” Officer Walters steps directly in front of me to block her. “You need to stop. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to speak to you. You need to respect that.”
“Scottie?” she questions, trying to peer around the officer to see me. I cower behind him, using him as my own personal emotional shield.
I don’t see it, but I hear it when Paul successfully guides her toward one of the back rooms. There are retreating footsteps and any manner of a million complaints from her, but finally, a door clicks shut and a strangled breath escapes my lungs.
“I apologize for that, Scottie.” Officer Walters offers me an understanding smile and gestures for me to take a seat near the desk I’m assuming is his. “Let’s move through this quickly and get you back to your dorm.”
My nerves are shot, and I feel like I’m seconds away from snapping in two. I nod and grit my teeth, forcing myself to power through.
“We found evidence on Nadine Jones’s phone that she was utilizing an app to send you harassing text messages,” he updates. “Were you aware they were from her?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Though, after what happened on Friday night and the fact that she was filming the whole thing, I assumed it was either her or Dane Matthews who were sending me those messages.”
“Have you seen the footage that Nadine Jones released on social media?”
Of course I have. It’s my ongoing living nightmare and one of life’s biggest mysteries that the explicit footage managed to get under so many platforms’ community guidelines.
“Yes.” I swallow hard against the bile that wants to migrate up my throat. “I’ve seen it. Too many times.”
“I want you to know that we have successfully deleted the footage from Nadine’s and Dane’s accounts, and we are working hard to locate it anywhere else that a third party has shared it,” he updates. “Once something is released on the internet, it’s hard to remove it entirely, but our Digital Forensics Department is working hard to do exactly that.” He slides a piece of paper and a pen over to me. “Now, I just need you to write down the events of Friday night from your point of view. Be as detailed as you can with names, places, and everything you saw.”
This is the last thing I want to do, an actual crime against any of the very little progress I’ve made since it happened, but I make myself do it anyway. I know it’s important, not only for me, but for Finn and all the other friends who’ve stood by me through the whole thing.