Soda Pop

Chapter 64- The Threat

"Congratulations Ms. Carson, it's been 24 hours. We legally can't keep you any more," Agent Luxembourg sighs, unlocking the door to my cage.

"So you haven't found any evidence proving me to be a drug dealer? That's just great for you guys!" I say with an overflowing amount of sarcasm in my voice.

"Better watch it miss. You so much as jaywalk along the street and I will have you in court so fast you blink and you'll miss it," He growls, causing a thousand tiny goosebumps to raise on my arms. Luckily my hands are behind my back, so he can't see them.

"Guess it's a good thing I have a car worth more than your salary," I smirk, sashaying past him and out the door.

Brett called his parents and his lawyer dad managed to get him out earlier. He tried to bail me too, but they wouldn't allow him. I tried to call my parents, but of course my dad is in Greenland, and my mom is at a fashion show in Hong Kong or something. So I got to spend spend a night in a luxurious jail cell.

I'm kidding of course, just in case you have never been to jail. It's cold, hard, and the toilet is out in the open. For everyone to watch as you do your business. I held it as long as I could, but sadly I have a small bladder and had to use the toilet eventually. The toilet seat wasn't heated, and the toilet paper is only one ply. Did you hear that correctly? ONE PLY.

Quite frankly, I was just lucky they let me out. If they had indeed actually had evidence, I would be on a bus to prison. Orange is not my color.

The second I exited the DEA's office, I realized I don't have a ride, or a cell phone charger. A dead phone and at least 10 miles to my house.

"Better start walking," I grumble to myself. There is usually a few taxis on the main street. Maybe I can catch one there. The walk is only a few minutes.

I am lucky enough to catch a cab quickly, and the nice driver even has a phone charger. I open my phone to see 6 texts from Brett, and 14 texts from my sister and brother.

"This it miss?" The driver says, pulling in front of my house.

"Yes, what do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," He half-smiles.

I am confused as to what he means, but then catch a glimpse of my reflection in the rear view mirror. My hair is in knots, my makeup is smudged, and my shirt has a hole in it.

"Thank you," I say quickly, getting out of the car. I run inside, and shut the door.

"Where have you been?" Alicia says, a furious look in her eyes.

"Nowhere," I shrug.

"I made dinner! Well, I burned dinner, but not the point!"

"I was with Brett."

"Ha! Your lying! Because he was here," She smirks.

"Brett was here?"

"He's still here. He fell asleep on our sofa," She nods her head towards our couch, where Brett is splayed out. A blanket is neatly set over him

I kneel next to him, running my fingers through his amazingly soft hair. He jolts awake once he realizes someone is touching him.

When he first wakes up, he looks like an awkward llama, straining his neck to look at his surroundings. His eyes land on me, and an incredibly adorable smile fills his face.

He grabs me and hugs me, "I-I'm so sorry, Casey. I didn't think that would happen. I put you in danger because of a stupid mistake I make five years ago. I'm so sorry Case."

Some tears fill his eyes, and I wipe them away. "Brett, this isn't your fault. How could you have known that Marcus would double cross us and convince the police that we were at fault. It's not our fault. Marcus is a sick human being. The fact he would do this just proves to me that you are a better person, and I never should have trusted him. I trust you. I know that you would never do that to me. I love you."

"Casey, it's gone from my phone. The recording is gone. It was on there when we went in. When they questioned me, they looked at my phone and there was nothing on there. Now I don't know about you, but things don't just randomly delete from my phone," Brett says, sitting up straight and pulling out his phone.

"What are you saying?" My head spinning from the combination of the last day's events.

"I'm saying that I didn't delete it, and I am quite sure you didn't either. So I can only think of a few people who came in contact with my phone between the car ride to the police station, and getting thrown into jail."

I gasp, forcing myself to say the words, "Are you saying the police deleted the recording to help prove Marcus is innocent?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."