In the Blink of an Eye

Chapter Seventeen: Broken Record

I awake the following morning just after six, feeling like I've been hit with a six-ton truck. Forcing myself out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom, getting into the shower almost mechanically. The warm water runs over my skin, barely waking me up, and I'm in there so long that I'm not sure where the water ends and my tears begin. Shaking, I finally manage to get out of there; wrapped in a towel, I pin my hair back and return to my room, raising my cheek for Hunter to kiss as he walks by me to get into the shower himself.

I get in my black pantsuit, the white camisole beneath the matching jacket almost perfectly matching the tone of my skin that morning. Numbly, I step into my black heels, putting on a pair of understated black pearls before putting on my black winter coat. I grip onto my cell phone and, as I'm packing my briefcase, send a text to Nate, reminding him that he is in charge of the squad while I go Downtown to bail Edythe out of jail. I wave goodbye to Helena and kiss the twins before heading out of there, texting Hunter that I love him before heading outside and pulling out of the driveway.

Pulling out of the community and towards the highway, I see a text from John Buchanan, telling me that he has just left his house himself to go to court to represent Edythe. The highway is surprisingly clear that morning, so I am able to shave a good ten minutes off my trip before entering the city. The Great South Bay looks bleak that morning as I get out of my car and head up the stairs, pulling my coat closely around me as the wind decides to pick up. I feel relief as I see John Buchanan waiting for me, and find myself running to him and throwing my arms around him.

"Are we allowed to see her before...?" I ask, my question trailing off, as I'm unsure how all of this works.

"We are. We have twenty minutes or so before our turn comes."

"It's allowed?" I cry, shocked.

He nods. "Of course. I'm her lawyer, and I need your permission to meet with her —she is a minor, after all." He waves over an official and we are brought to the back where the cells are located, and I feel the onset of tears come when I spot Edythe in one of them, her dress frightfully dirty and her eyes red, dark circles beneath them.

"Mom!" Edythe shouts, tears flowing freely down her face as she gets to her feet, gripping the bars of the cell in front of her.

"Sweetheart," I say, all my resolve gone as the door is unlocked and John and I step inside there with her. I feel my heart swell as she throws her arms around me and weeps onto my suit jacket.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mom!" she says, weeping now. "I didn't mean to, I swear!" She pulls back then when she senses John behind me, and looks him up and down. "I'm not... You're not...? Who is that?"

"John Buchanan," John says, putting out his hand. "I'm an attorney, and I work for your mother. I'm here to represent you."

"Attorney?" she whispers, turning to look at me.

"He's the best, sweetheart."

"If you tell me the whole, honest truth," John tells Edythe quietly, "I promise you that you will not spend another moment in jail, and that you can go home with your mother today."

Edythe looks at me in fear. "The whole truth?"

I nod. "That's the only way to resolve this, sweetheart."

She sighs, shaking. "Okay. Okay, I'll tell you everything." She sits down at the wooden table in the center of the cell, and John and I move to sit with her. "Ryder was a friend from school—a senior—before he dropped out last spring. Ryder was...he was different," she says, lowering her eyes. "At first, it was just some drinks—fruity ones, I couldn't even taste the alcohol, and I never had more than one or two. Within a few weeks, I was getting blackout drunk—I couldn't tell you what went on after that, although I do remember waking up the next day with my skirt and pantyhose or tights torn and feeling sore down there..."