“How about a piece of that cherry gum, then?” I said to Detective Barrone. I’d asked her to take off the handcuffs. My shoulders ached from keeping my hands behind my back. The precinct interrogation room looked more like file storage, browning manila folders everywhere, lots of unsolved cases. “What about my three phone calls?”
“What three phone calls?” She peeled me a piece of gum.
“That’s how they do it on The Shield.”
“You get the calls after you’ve been arrested.”
“If I’m not under arrest, why am I wearing bracelets?”
“Because for your own protection I needed to take you in for questioning.”
“What exactly are you protecting me from?”
She put the gum into my mouth. “You, Jay.”
“I demand my rights.”
“These are your rights: You’re mine for twenty-four hours before I have to arrest or release you. We had that house under surveillance with remote cameras from the buildings across the street. We have you on video. Burglary is a felony. It can get you locked up for fifteen years.”
She had to be bluffing. This was my first offense. I was more worried about the hacking. I’d tapped government agencies. Search warrant in hand, the cops were sure to be on their way to my apartment, my laptops.
“Jay, I want to help you. And I will. But you have to help me.” She clicked open the handcuffs.
I felt a bit better now that I could see my hands. “I want to help you too, Detective. I do. But can you at least call my dad? I don’t want him to freak out when he comes home and I’m not there. He’ll take your call this time, I promise. He has an emergency cell number.”
She pulled her phone. “What’s the number?”
I gave it to her. She dialed and cracked me a can of Pepsi as she waited for my father or his voicemail to pick up. Neither would happen. The phone would ring indefinitely. She’d just dialed my kill code, the one that told my computers to fry themselves and all traces of my hacking. “What made you go to that house?” she said.
Barrone’s partner leaned in. “Jess?”
Barrone went out into the hall. I wondered if Nicole knew I’d been arrested or if she’d tried to call me. They’d taken my phone. After a minute, Barrone was back. “Your friend Angela tried to run when she saw the police parked out in front of the high school. They caught her on a bus bound for Newark.” Barrone kicked the door shut and eyed me. “Last chance: Tell me how you figured out Angela Sammick threw acid at Nicole Castro, or I’ll slap you with obstruction of justice on top of the burglary. I’ll petition the DA to go full out on you in court, no concurrent sentencing. You could do twenty-five to life.”
“Didn’t I just help you catch the perp?”
“Are you serious? I had that house staked out for weeks, and then you go busting in there? You could have tipped her off that we were onto her. She makes it to that airport? Forget it. Gone.”
“One question-”
“No. No questions from you now. Now you give answers.”
“If you had Angela pegged as a suspect for weeks, why did you wait so long to arrest her?”
Barrone glared at me. “You have fifteen seconds to make up your mind: Tell me every single thing that took you to Angela Sammick’s house this morning, or you will cook. And Jay? That pretty hair of yours? They’re gonna love you in jail.” She checked her wristwatch.
I eyed the wall clock. It had maybe twenty years’ worth of dust on the rim, but the second hand ticked out just fine: 5 seconds to go, 4, 3. . I would tell her everything, almost. No way I was bringing Cherry into this. “The black Civic. I had to run down the tag number-”
“Jay, do not say a word.” My father rolled into the room and dropped his giant hands on my shoulders, shielding me or getting ready to strangle me.
“I’m disappointed you never found the time to return my calls, Steve,” Barrone said. “That the only way we could talk is under these ridiculous circumstances.”
“I’m not talking to you now, either. Is he under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Then arrest him.”