Chapter 48 "Just a Number"
Johnson tossed her a grey prison uniform cotton pants and a matching top that felt rough and cheap against Ember's skin. No bra. No underwear. Just the thin uniform and a pair of canvas slip-on shoes that were too big.
Ember dressed as quickly as her shaking hands would allow. The uniform hung loose on her frame, making her look even smaller than she was. She felt stripped of more than just her clothes. Stripped of her dignity. Her identity. Her sense of self.
She was just a number now. Just another suspect. Just another body to be processed and filed away.
"This way."
Johnson led her out of the examination room and down another corridor. Ember's oversized shoes slapped against the linoleum floor with each step. They passed other holding cells some empty, some occupied by people who barely glanced up as they walked by.
They stopped at a cell near the end of the hall.
"In," Johnson said, unlocking the door.
The cell was small maybe eight feet by ten feet. Concrete walls painted an institutional grey. A metal toilet in the corner with no seat. A narrow bench along one wall. And two other occupants.
Both women looked up as Ember entered. One was maybe forty, with greasy hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and hollow eyes that had seen too much. The other was younger mid-twenties, perhaps with a fresh bruise blooming along her jaw.
"Fresh meat," the older woman said, not unkindly. Just stating a fact.
The door clanged shut behind Ember, the lock engaging with a sound that made her flinch.
She was in jail.
Actually in jail.
"First time?" the older woman asked.
Ember nodded, not trusting her voice.
"You'll get used to it." The woman shifted on the bench, making room. "Or you won't. Either way, you're here now."
Ember remained standing, pressed against the wall farthest from the other two women. Her heart was racing so fast she thought she might pass out. The cell smelled like sweat and disinfectant and despair.
"What'd they get you for?" the younger woman asked. Her voice was rough, like she'd been screaming or crying or both.
Ember shook her head. She couldn't say it. Couldn't voice the charges out loud.
"Alright, alright. Don't have to talk if you don't want to." The woman turned away, losing interest.
Ember slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, making herself as small as possible.
This was real. This was her life now.
At least until the arraignment.
But then what? A trial? Prison?
How could she explain any of this? How could she defend herself against evidence she couldn't dispute? The security footage was real. Her face was clear in multiple locations, multiple times.
She'd been there. Her body had been there.
Even if she couldn't remember it.
Time passed with excruciating slowness. Ember wasn't sure how long she'd been in the cell an hour? Two hours? There was no clock, no window to track the position of the sun. Just the constant fluorescent lights and the occasional sound of doors opening and closing somewhere down the hall.
The sound of approaching footsteps made Ember's head snap up. A moment later, the cell door opened.
"Winters," Officer Johnson said. "Phone call. Let's go."
Ember scrambled to her feet, her legs stiff from sitting on the concrete floor. She followed Johnson out of the cell and down the hallway, passing other cells, other prisoners. Some called out as they walked by whistles, catcalls, comments Ember tried to ignore.
They stopped at a small alcove with an old payphone mounted on the wall. Johnson stood a few feet away, close enough to hear but giving the illusion of privacy.
"You have five minutes," Johnson said. "If you use this call to discuss your case, anything you say can be recorded and used against you in court. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Make it quick."
Ember stared at the phone, her mind blank.
Who should she call?
And then there was the person she hadn't spoken to in almost two years. The person who'd left when things got too hard. The person who'd chosen her own mental health over raising her daughter.
With trembling fingers, Ember lifted the receiver and dialed the number she'd memorized years ago. A number she'd never forgotten, even when she'd tried to.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Ember's throat tightened.
"Hello?" The voice was sharp, impatient. Familiar in a way that made Ember's chest ache.
Ember opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"Hello?" the voice repeated, more irritated now. "If this is a spam call, I swear to God"
"Mom?" Ember's voice cracked on the word. "Mom, it's me."
Silence.
Then: "Ember?"
"Yes. it's me."
More silence. Longer this time. Ember could hear breathing on the other end, could almost picture her mother's face trying to process, trying to understand why her daughter was calling after two years of minimal contact.
"What's wrong?" Her mother's voice had changed, become more alert. More focused. "Why are you calling? It's the middle of a workday"
"Mom, I need help." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I'm at the Hollow Creek Police Station. I've been arrested."
The silence that followed felt impossibly long.
"Arrested?" Her mother's voice was carefully controlled now, the tone she used when she was trying not to spiral. "For what?"
"I'm being charged" Ember's throat closed up. She forced the words out. "I'm being charged for murder."
"You are what?"
"I didn't do it!" Ember said desperately.
"Slow down. Ember, slow down.
"Jesus Christ." Her mother's voice had gone flat. Emotionless. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
"I didn't get into anything! Mom, please, you have to believe me"
"Do you have a lawyer?"
"They said they'd assign me a public defender"
"A public defender?" Her mother laughed a harsh, bitter sound that made Ember flinch. "For murder charges? Ember, public defenders are overworked and underpaid. You need real representation. I'll figure something out. When's your arraignment?"
"Tomorrow. Maybe. They said within 48 to 72 hours."
"I'll be there." Her mother's voice was brisk now, all business. "Don't talk to anyone without a lawyer present. Do you understand? Not the police, not other inmates, not anyone."
"Okay."
"And Ember?" A pause. "Whatever you did or didn't do we'll deal with it. But I need you to be completely honest with me when I see you. No lies. No hiding. Completely honest. Can you do that?"
Ember nodded even though her mother couldn't see her. "Yes."
"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."
The line went dead.
Ember stood there holding the receiver, listening to the dial tone, trying to process what had just happened.
Her mother was coming.
Allison Winters the woman who'd walked away two years ago, the woman whose bipolar disorder had made her unpredictable and sometimes cruel, the woman who'd told Ember she needed to focus on her own mental health before she could be anyone's mother was coming to help.
"Time's up," Johnson said, touching Ember's elbow. "Back to the cell."
Ember hung up the phone and followed Johnson back down the hallway, past the other cells, past the other prisoners.