Exposed

Chapter Eighteen

Jail cells. 4x4 rooms of metal and stone that offer very little privacy. Then again, that's kind of the point. They're also meant to be used for drunks and teenagers to take a night to sober up or reflect on the poor decisions that landed them there in the first place. For Amelia? It's a place that's she been left in to stew over the anger of being unfairly arrested-- okay, it was fair but she wouldn't have had to resort to stealing confidential police files if they hadn't stolen her legally acquired files in the first place-- and to reflect on what she saw in the woods just moments prior to being arrested. Needless to say she's paced an impression into the stone floor under her feet as the thoughts run rampant through her head. She wants nothing more than to talk to the man who showed her something impossible. Something she has yet to be able to wrap her mind around. She doesn't just want to talk to Derek Hale. She needs to talk to him. Unfortunately for her, the Beacon County Sheriff's Department is being a bit difficult towards her. She hasn't even been given the chance to make her one phone call yet.

Assholes.

Outside of the anger at being arrested and confusion at the sight of Derek's feral face, she's mostly bored out of her mind. The deputies of Beacon County have been avoiding her like the plague thus robbing her of any amusement she might could garnish from them. So, as per usual, she resigns herself to counting the cracks in the walls and floors. It's not her first time in a jail cell and she's about ninety-nine percent certain that it won't be her last time in one either. She has an impeccable record with Californian police personnel. They love putting her in handcuffs and trapping her in a metal cage with no privacy to use the toilet.

"Comfortable yet?" Comes the saving voice of Parrish. Amelia stops midpace and turns her body towards the young and handsome deputy. At the sight of Parrish, she feels like a child at Christmas who just discovered a new plaything and she intends to utilize him to her full amusement. Amelia leans against the bars of her cell with her arms casually dangling through them. She cocks her head to the side and smiles at the deputy.

"You know what would make me even more comfortable?" She asks with a sickly sweet voice. He quirks an eyebrow. "My one, measly phone call."

Parrish laughs at her. She can't help the surprise she feels as he blatantly laughs at her but she covers it with an equally amused smirk.

"What's so funny deputy?"

"You think we're just going to roll over and give you that phone call?" He leans in close to the bars. "You're going to have to work for it."

"You do realize that by law I'm allowed an attorney," she says smartly. "Now, I'm sure a smart deputy such as yourself wouldn't dare try to deny me my right as a common criminal."

"We already have one on the way over."

Amelia laughs sarcastically. "Yeah, no. I don't want whatever back of the mill lawyer you dug out of the justice system. I have my own lawyer and I'm gonna insist that I call them."

"You're not getting anywhere near a phone for as long as we can allow," he says stubbornly.

"Then you call them," she says as though it's the most simple solution. "It will take them at least a day to get here in which I can rott in this cell for the duration it takes them to arrive."

"We want you in here for longer than a day."

"And why is that? Afraid that if I'm out earlier I'll tell the world about Derek Hale going all grr on me?"

The reaction to her words wasn't exactly what the brunette was expecting. The banter between them has been mostly surface jabs with no real weight behind them but Parrish seems greatly affected by her last statement. Everything on his body clenches from the crinkles around his eyes, the set of his jaw, and to the tightening of his broad shoulders.