Sand In My Boots: The Sequel

Chapter 19

**TW : SMUT**

"Hi, officer White," I said as my trembling hand held the phone to my ear.

"Ms. Farrell, my apologies for disturbing you at this hour," he started. "Is Mr. Wallen with you?"

"Yes, he's-"

"Babe, hang up. Come back in the pool-" Morgan said from behind me, starling me into dropping my phone.

"Jesus," I muttered, picking it up off the wet ceramic floor.

"Someone's on edge," Morgan deadpanned.

I took the liberty of putting the call on speakerphone, waiting for him to catch up.

"Sorry officer White. We're both here. What's going on?"

"I just got word that Jason Finley would get a bail hearing on Monday morning. I know I could have waited until tomorrow morning to let you guys know-"

"Ya think?" Morgan mumbled sarcastically. I shot him a look and he avoided my gaze.

"But I think no time should be wasted," Officer White continued, ignoring Morgan's arrogance. "My advice for you would be to call the district attorney first thing tomorrow morning. I know her, I will text you her number and she can help you put together an impact statement to ask the judge not to grant bail to Dr. Finley."

"What happens if we don't?" Morgan asked.

"Why the fuck would you say that?" I snapped.

"He will be granted bail," officer White informed us. "If you don't make a big enough fuss, the judge most likely won't see him as a big enough threat to justify confining him as he awaits trial. And he might not be an international country star, but he's still well off. Enough so that I doubt he will have any trouble coming up with the bail money."

"So we come to you for help and y'all release him? That's 'protect and serve' for ya?" Morgan taunted arrogantly.

I stomped on his foot to shut him up.

"Ow, what the fuck?!" He yelled, lifting his foot up and rubbing his toes between his fingers as his eyes pierced a hole into the side of my skull.

"Mr. Wallen, I understand that you want this matter to be handled quickly and quietly, but unfortunately when faced with the red tape of the justice system, there is not much we police officers can do. The district attorney might be able to ask for a closed hearing. There are ways to protect yours and Ms. Farrell's privacy, but if you want this man to stay behind bars, you're gonna have to get involved."

I sighed, feeling the weight of the atmosphere resting heavily on my shoulders. Morgan ran a hand through his hair, his fingers scratching his scalp. I knew he was just trying to protect me and the kids. I knew what came off as arrogance was simply worry and an impossible feeling of being, once again, stripped of any real power.

"We understand. Thank you for taking the time to call," I said gratefully before hanging up.

"Did you have to break my damn toes?" Morgan complained.

"Why were you so fucking rude to him?! He didn't do shit, Morgan!"

"That's my fucking point! He didn't do shit!"

"He did his job," I defended. "He did what he could and then some. He didn't have to call us tonight-"

"Yeah, he really didn't have to," he muttered.

"Ugh, I hate it when you behave like this," I whispered impatiently as to not wake the kids.

"Behave like what?"