Chapter 47 "Processing"
Harris pulled out an electronic scanner. One by one, he pressed Ember's fingers against the screen thumb, index, middle, ring, pinky. First the right hand, then the left. The handcuffs made it awkward, and Harris had to grip her wrists firmly to position her fingers correctly.
"Personal belongings," Harris said, sliding a plastic bin across the desk. "Empty your pockets. Everything goes in the bin."
Ember had almost nothing. Her phone which had been buzzing constantly in her pocket, each vibration making her flinch. Her student ID. A few dollar bills. A hair tie. The items looked pathetically small in the large plastic bin.
"That's everything?"
"Yes."
"Jewelry?"
Ember touched the simple silver chain around her neck a gift from Maya last Christmas. "Just this necklace."
"That too."
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp. The necklace had been with her for so long she'd almost forgotten she was wearing it. Removing it felt like losing another piece of herself.
Harris tagged the bin with a number 47392 and set it aside. "You'll get these back when you're released."
If you're released, his tone seemed to imply.
"Follow me," Delgado said, leading her down yet another hallway.
They stopped at a door marked "Medical Examination."
"Wait here."
Delgado knocked twice, and the door opened. A woman in scrubs appeared middle-aged, with sharp eyes and an expression that suggested she'd seen everything and been impressed by none of it.
"Another one?" she asked.
"Murder suspect. Three counts."
The woman's eyebrows rose slightly the first sign of genuine interest Ember had seen from anyone here. "She doesn't look like a killer."
"They never do," Delgado replied. He turned to Ember. "Officer Johnson will take over from here. Listen to her instructions and this will go quickly. Understand?"
Ember nodded.
Officer Johnson her name tag confirmed it gestured Ember inside. The room was small, sterile, with bright fluorescent lights that made everything look washed out and harsh. There was an examination table, a locked cabinet that presumably held medical supplies, and a scale in the corner.
The door closed behind them with a heavy click.
"Hands," Johnson said, producing a handcuff key.
The cuffs came off for the second time, and Ember rubbed at her wrists. The skin was red and irritated, marked with lines from the metal.
Johnson pulled on latex gloves with practiced efficiency. The snap of the gloves made Ember's stomach turn.
"Strip," Johnson said flatly.
Ember's face burned. "What?"
"Remove all your clothing. It's standard procedure. We need to check for weapons, drugs, contraband. Everything goes in this bag." She held out a clear plastic bag.
"Can't you just I don't know search me with my clothes on?"
Johnson's expression didn't change. "No. Strip. Now."
There was no warmth in her voice. No sympathy. Just cold, professional detachment that made Ember feel less than human.
Her hands shook as she pulled off her sweater the soft blue one she'd put on this morning, back when she'd thought today would be normal. Just another Tuesday. Just another Victorian Literature class.
How naive she'd been.
The sweater went into the bag. Then her t-shirt. Her jeans. Her socks. She stood in just her bra and underwear, goosebumps rising on her exposed skin. The room was cold. Or maybe she was just terrified.
"Those too," Johnson said, gesturing to Ember's remaining clothing.
Tears streamed down Ember's face as she removed her bra with fumbling fingers. Then her underwear. She stood completely naked in the harsh fluorescent light, trembling violently. She wanted to cover herself, to curl into a ball, to disappear entirely.
"Arms up."
Ember raised her arms, her whole body shaking now from cold, from fear, from the crushing humiliation of standing naked while a stranger examined her like livestock.
Johnson moved around her methodically, checking her hair, behind her ears, under her arms. Her gloved hands were impersonal but thorough, touching places that made Ember want to cry harder.
"Open your mouth."
Ember opened her mouth. Johnson shined a small flashlight inside, checking under her tongue, along her gums.
"Lift your tongue."
Ember complied, tears streaming freely now.
"Turn around."
Ember turned, facing the wall. She heard Johnson moving behind her, the rustle of gloves.
"Bend over and spread your legs."
"Please," Ember whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, I don't"
"It's procedure, Miss Winters. The faster you cooperate, the faster this is over. Bend over."
Ember bent forward, her face burning with shame, her whole body trembling. She felt Johnson's gloved hands, clinical and methodical, checking places that made Ember want to scream. This was violation. This was degradation. This was
"Stand up. Squat and cough."
"What?"
"Squat down and cough. It's the last part."
Ember's legs could barely support her weight, but she squatted, her muscles trembling. She coughed on command, the sound weak and broken.
"Again."
She coughed again, harder this time, while Johnson watched with that same detached expression.
"You're clear. Get dressed."