CH190

CH190
"You can take me to my client, or you can bring my client to be discharged. You've fumbled this and held her longer than enough."
The detective snarled but gestured down the hall. The officer grabbed the phone and scuttled out just as they came in. My father took the other chair and pushed it beside me for my mother. The detective glared at him and was forced to lean against the wall.
“Let’s start again,” the lawyer said coolly. “You charged my client with assault. Where’s the evidence?”
“As I said, three girls in the hospital,” one detective replied, flipping open the same folder. “With concussions and fractures. Miss Winters put them there per their testimony and left them there without calling for anyone.”
"Who called the ambulance?"
He worked his jaw. "That's not important."
"Everything is material. Who called?"
"Don't know for certain. A man."
"Was he there when the EMTs arrived? When you arrived?"
"No."
"Did you seek out this man? Even try to get a name, or should we have the 911 call record subpoena'd?" He narrowed his eyes. "And it's not a crime to flee the scene of your assault and not offer aid you’re your assaulters." My lawyer leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Did you pull surveillance from the campus where this allegedly occurred?"
A beat of silence.
“No.”
My mother let out a furious laugh. “You mean to tell me you arrested my daughter without even checking the most basic pieces of evidence? You’ve got to be joking.”
“She admitted nothing,” the detective pressed, glaring at me. “Won’t even talk about her relationship with these girls.”
"Miss Winters, please state in the least number of words possible what happened."
“They cornered me in the bathroom, told me to come with them to get into a van, and I said no. They tried to force me. I fought back, climbed through the window, and ran before some French-speaking men could come in."
The detective bared his teeth. "Con---"
"At least two parts of that are verifiable, as there is video surveillance outside the bathrooms and over the sink area.” My lawyer’s smile sharpened. “You’ve not only failed to investigate properly, you’ve actively violated her rights. Return her belongings and release her, or you’ll be explaining to the IAB why my client and her family are suing you and the precinct into rubble."
The detective looked uneasy, but he stepped forward to unlock the cuffs.. Someone muttered into a radio down the hall, and eventually, an officer brought in my bag and set it on the table.
“Check it,” the lawyer instructed.
I opened it, rifling through the contents. My wallet, keys, and notebooks were all there, so were my textbooks and folders, but when I reached for my phone, my stomach dropped. It wasn’t there.
“My phone is missing,” I said flatly.
The room went still.
I looked straight at the detective. “Where is it?”
“They’ve taken it to cybercrimes for analysis,” the detective said. “Standard procedure when there's---”
My lawyer’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Without a warrant, it's theft. You can’t just seize personal property and start rifling through it. You will either return her device and render any analysis null, or you will see this office in front of a judge within forty-eight hours.”
The detective opened his mouth, started to say something, then shut it again.
My father cut in then, voice deceptively calm. “We’re done here,” he said and placed a hand on my back. "Let's let the lawyers take it from here."
I nodded, stood and followed him out.
The precinct’s air hit me like cold concrete after the fluorescent bath of the interrogation room. The press of everyone in the hall made the world feel small and loud, reminding me of when we'd left the hospital months ago. By the time he bundled me into his car, it sounded like someone was looking for it.
"We'll need to get you a new one."
"What?" I asked. "Why?"
"I fried it."
“You fried it?”
He didn’t look at me when he said it. “If it had been taken, analyzed, or mined, I didn’t want the risk of anything being copied or used. I didn't want them to be able to plant anything on it either. So other than for the show, there was no reason to hang around.” He gave the wheel a small twist, settling the car into traffic. “I had it installed on your and your mother's phone because I figured it might come in handy. You can get another phone. We’ll recover a backup copy of your files, but as long as it's out of your hands, it’s a liability.”
He glanced at me then, and something softer flickered across his face for the first time that day. “You okay?"
"Yeah, just marveled that you sound like a spy."
He tried not to grin, but he failed. “Maybe I was once,” he said.
We drove away from the precinct into the late afternoon sun. Dad’s car moved through the city. I should have felt safe, but I didn't.
"Let's get something to eat, eh?"

The restaurant they chose was tucked down a side street, quiet and glossy in that way my mother favored. She and her friend arrived a few minutes after us, both of them looking smugly victorious.
She set something on the table with a flourish. It was my phone, but I knew it wouldn't turn on.
“Souvenir,” she said, her smile like a blade hidden in velvet. “Their IT people finally decided to give it back, and I filed a damage report, of course.”
My father arched a brow. “You’ll bankrupt them?”
“That’s the plan,” she said sweetly, pouring herself a glass of water. Then, with a wicked grin at me, she added, “Whatever comes from the settlement will be earmarked for you. Consider it tuition insurance—or shopping money, depending on how merciful I’m feeling.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No,” she corrected, “I’m efficient. There’s a difference.”
The lawyer chuckled. "It's good to tag team corrupt policemen again. I missed it."
We ate an early dinner together. Mom's eyes kept straying to me.
“You know,” she said, tone softer now, “I can’t believe how far you’ve come.”