heart attack for her momma… she’s fine . Guilty as sin, but sheesh. All legs.”
“Give her a blanket to put over that red kimono so I can interview her, man.” Ray raked his fingers through his hair and set his jaw hard. His partner wasn’t lying; guilty or not, this broad was awesome.
Jocelyn rocked in the chair with her eyes closed and kept her hands clutching her hair, restating the same panic-laden whisper over and over again. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, oh, Lord, ohmigod, ohmigod, oh dear God, help me.”
She was gonna be fingerprinted, was in a police station, had been arrested ? OH, GOD! She was a graduate student, a law-abiding citizen—Oh, God! She had grabbed a real cop’s crotch, oh double God! Her momma was gonna die a thousand deaths. Her father was doing cartwheels in his grave. Her grandmother was in heaven, shrieking to be released by the angels to come down and strike her dead—Oh, God! She was already dead. A zombie. Her reputation was ruined. She’d lose her job. She’d be ousted from the university. Her professors would freak! Her career was no more. She was half naked. Where was the wastebasket—her stomach was roiling again.
“Miss Jefferson.”
Her head snapped up so hard she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, sir, I can explain everything, I’ll tell you how it all happened. I’ve never done anything like this in my life; I don’t really know all these people. I didn’t know there was actually weed in my house—oh, God, I’m a doctoral studies major at the university and am in the social justice program, oh, God—do I need a lawyer? I can pee in a cup and prove I don’t do drugs, oh, God. I’ve never, I swear, ever, I swear, really, I swear, it looks really bad, oh, God! But, see, ooooh…Jesus…Lord, for real, mister. I mean, officer, sir, I—I—I…can’t breathe…and…have…to…throw…up, oh, God.”
“Ma’am,” Ray said coolly, backing up just in case she lost her lunch. “Take several deep breaths.” He outstretched the blanket, but rather than put it around her shoulders, she buried her face in it and began sobbing.
Now, true, he’d seen a lot of perps in his life, and a whole lotta streetwalkers in his time, but there was something so unnerving about this one. Her rolling, run-on sentences sounded like nothing he’d ever seen drugs produce, and her wide brown eyes were puffy and red from tears and histrionics alone. He listened to her gasp in air, shiver, dry heave, and then fan her flushed face.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Huh?” she mumbled from the blanket at her face. “I can’t hear without my glasses, oh, God, I’m blind—where’s my glasses?”
Ray fought not to smile. He knew his partner was probably doubled over with laughter on the other side of the glass, so he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He sat on the edge of the desk and peered down at her silky, light brown hair. “Miss Jefferson, I’m going to get someone to bring you some water, but you have to calm down so we can sort all this out. Did you hear me?”
She nodded quickly, wiped her nose on the blanket, and clutched his hand with her eyes closed. “Sir, the room is spinning.”
“Okay, in the wastebasket, all right?” He extracted his hand and quickly grabbed a waste can from the far corner of the room, and got it under her face just in time. He didn’t move as she snatched it, practically put her head in it, and heaved, then slumped back in the chair.
“I normally only do red wine—what was I thinking to have champagne and let Kimika give me a margarita? Oh, God…” She slung her forearm over her face to block the fluorescent glare. “So help me, I will never invite people I don’t know into my house.”
He watched two big tears stream down her face as her head hung back. Even with vomit in a wastepaper basket, her face puffy and red, clothes askew, and hair sitting up on top of her head
“Give her a blanket to put over that red kimono so I can interview her, man.” Ray raked his fingers through his hair and set his jaw hard. His partner wasn’t lying; guilty or not, this broad was awesome.
Jocelyn rocked in the chair with her eyes closed and kept her hands clutching her hair, restating the same panic-laden whisper over and over again. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, oh, Lord, ohmigod, ohmigod, oh dear God, help me.”
She was gonna be fingerprinted, was in a police station, had been arrested ? OH, GOD! She was a graduate student, a law-abiding citizen—Oh, God! She had grabbed a real cop’s crotch, oh double God! Her momma was gonna die a thousand deaths. Her father was doing cartwheels in his grave. Her grandmother was in heaven, shrieking to be released by the angels to come down and strike her dead—Oh, God! She was already dead. A zombie. Her reputation was ruined. She’d lose her job. She’d be ousted from the university. Her professors would freak! Her career was no more. She was half naked. Where was the wastebasket—her stomach was roiling again.
“Miss Jefferson.”
Her head snapped up so hard she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, sir, I can explain everything, I’ll tell you how it all happened. I’ve never done anything like this in my life; I don’t really know all these people. I didn’t know there was actually weed in my house—oh, God, I’m a doctoral studies major at the university and am in the social justice program, oh, God—do I need a lawyer? I can pee in a cup and prove I don’t do drugs, oh, God. I’ve never, I swear, ever, I swear, really, I swear, it looks really bad, oh, God! But, see, ooooh…Jesus…Lord, for real, mister. I mean, officer, sir, I—I—I…can’t breathe…and…have…to…throw…up, oh, God.”
“Ma’am,” Ray said coolly, backing up just in case she lost her lunch. “Take several deep breaths.” He outstretched the blanket, but rather than put it around her shoulders, she buried her face in it and began sobbing.
Now, true, he’d seen a lot of perps in his life, and a whole lotta streetwalkers in his time, but there was something so unnerving about this one. Her rolling, run-on sentences sounded like nothing he’d ever seen drugs produce, and her wide brown eyes were puffy and red from tears and histrionics alone. He listened to her gasp in air, shiver, dry heave, and then fan her flushed face.
“Can I get you some water?”
“Huh?” she mumbled from the blanket at her face. “I can’t hear without my glasses, oh, God, I’m blind—where’s my glasses?”
Ray fought not to smile. He knew his partner was probably doubled over with laughter on the other side of the glass, so he took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He sat on the edge of the desk and peered down at her silky, light brown hair. “Miss Jefferson, I’m going to get someone to bring you some water, but you have to calm down so we can sort all this out. Did you hear me?”
She nodded quickly, wiped her nose on the blanket, and clutched his hand with her eyes closed. “Sir, the room is spinning.”
“Okay, in the wastebasket, all right?” He extracted his hand and quickly grabbed a waste can from the far corner of the room, and got it under her face just in time. He didn’t move as she snatched it, practically put her head in it, and heaved, then slumped back in the chair.
“I normally only do red wine—what was I thinking to have champagne and let Kimika give me a margarita? Oh, God…” She slung her forearm over her face to block the fluorescent glare. “So help me, I will never invite people I don’t know into my house.”
He watched two big tears stream down her face as her head hung back. Even with vomit in a wastepaper basket, her face puffy and red, clothes askew, and hair sitting up on top of her head
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