California Dreaming

Chapter Seventeen

   “If you don’t believe me, call my last school, call the local police back in England, Harry is real!” I exclaimed, getting frustrated with how I was being treated, like the criminal and not the victim that I was. I itched at the silver cuff around my left wrist and squinted against the strong light of the interrogation room. 

   “Jia, we have no records of a Harry Campbell, we have searched and searched, there is no-one,” the police officer told me, as if I was an idiot, as if I had made it all up. 

   “That’s because he’s English! Just like I am English! Because he stalked me when I was back in England!” I shook my head disbelievingly. 

   “I have to say, I don’t like your tone of voice, Jia,” he scolded and I rolled my eyes, knowing that my dad would be here soon enough. “You need to take a look at your attitude, young lady.” 

   “You don’t understand what kind of hell this son of a bitch has put me through,” I dropped my eyes down to my knees and glanced up at the officer with large, watery eyes. 

   “No, I don’t, maybe you would like to explain, maybe you can tell me-” 

   “All you have to do is look!” I yelled, standing up and pulling my t-shirt up over my stomach. “Look,” I pointed to the scar where Harry had stabbed me, “it is barely healed and yet you still don’t believe me.” The police officer didn’t seem to have anything to say in response, just scribbled some notes down in his folder. 

   There was a quiet knock at the door before it swung open and a man in a slick, black suit walked in, his heavy, leather suitcase in hand and thick rimmed glasses balanced on his hard lined nose. I gasped and jumped up, throwing my arms around my father as he dropped his suitcase and squeezed me tight to his chest. 

   “My Jia, are you okay?” He said desperately. 

   “I think I’m okay,” I nodded, “a little freaked out.” 

   “We need to show them that we can be calm and that we can be level headed, okay? We’re going to show them what idiots they are being, right?” He lent back and stroked the tears away from my flushed cheeks. I nodded in agreement and he stroked a lock of hair behind my ear, gesturing for me to sit back down. He slicked back his hair and took a deep breath. His skin was slightly tanned from his time out in the California sun, and he was built, tall and broad and slim. 

   “Could you please explain to me why you have arrested my daughter?” His voice had changed back to his total kick arse lawyer tone, I loved him so much for this, the way his words could cut like glass. 

   “Well, she was next to a victim of a stabbing, there was blood everywhere, the knife was on the floor besides her,” he officer explained, and my father squeezed my hand beneath the table, obviously hearing the account of last night for the first time. 

   “What was the victim’s name?” He asked curiously, keeping his voice level. 

   “Gabriel Fitzgerald,” the officer replied, and his grip on my hand tightened. 

   “I see,” his voice tensed slightly, because he cared for Gabriel like a son, and knew how much he meant to me. “Well, my client is a minor, it was not within your rights to start questioning her without an adult present.” 

   “No, well, she, you, well, no,” the officer began to stutter as he locked eyes with my father, no-one could argue with those eyes. 

   “I am going to tell you what you are going to do,” he lent forward slightly and I tried not to laugh as I saw the police officer move back in response. “You are going to call this number,” he slid a piece of paper across the table. “You are going to talk to Jia’s old principal,” he turned the piece of paper over, “then you are going to call this number, and speak to the local police. You are going to find out everything that has happened and then feel like an idiot for not believing this innocent girl. We are going to walk out this door and you are not going to stop us, because Jia is one hundred percent the victim here, and you really should know better.” My father stood up and took my arm, lifting me up to standing. He took a sheet of paper from his briefcase and put it down on the table. “This is her release form, and the keys to her handcuffs,” he undid the cuffs around my wrists and let them drop heavily to the table. He shook the officer’s hand and led me out of the room, leaving the police officer unsure of how to respond, or what to say. 

   We walked out of the station brusquely, but as soon as we were outside, I wrapped my arms around my father and held him as close as I could. He made cooing noises in my ear and stroked my hair away from my face, kissing my cheek lovingly. 

   “I love you so much dad,” I whispered, inhaling the smell of his aftershave. “I’ve missed you so much.” My mum and him had been away working for the past week or so. 

   “I’m sorry Jia, for leaving you alone, I can’t believe, I mean, how did he get here?” He said into my ear, his warm breath spreading across my neck. 

   “I don’t know,” I shook my head, tears beginning to race down my cheeks. 

   “Is Gabriel alright, what happened?” He held me by the shoulders and looked at me intently, with those eyes we seemed to share. Although my mother was Chinese, my father was a typical Californian boy, and I had inherited his lips and bone structure, and eyes. 

   “He’s, I mean, he’s alive,” I shrugged, “but I can’t believe Harry did this to me again,” I pulled away from my dad and we started walking towards his large, black SUV. 

   “It’s not your fault, Jia,” he held onto my shoulder and I shut my eyes, shaking my head from side to side. 

   “Well, it is,” I bit down on my lip and took a deep breath, turning back to face him. “Can we go home? I feel like shit,” I smiled hopelessly and my father chuckled, nodding. 

   “You look like shit,” he joked and I gasped in mock horror, glad that after all I had been through, he could still tease me. I think maybe he did this to make me feel better, make me feel like everything was normal. 

   “Father!” I giggled, and he opened the door for me, leaning over and kissing my cheek again. 

   “I’m so glad you’re okay, sweetie,” he seemed more serious, “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d got to you again.” 

   “Dad,” I exhaled deeply. 

   “Yes, darling?” I perched on the car seat, hanging my legs off the edge. 

   “Why didn’t he hurt me?” 

   “What do you, I mean, I don’t understand.” 

   “He could have killed me, he’d stabbed Gabriel, he could have easily got to me. But he didn’t, he just left me there.” 

   “That boy is sick, you can’t justify his actions with anything logical.” 

   “He’s sick, not an idiot. He had his chance, but he didn’t take it. He’s going to come after me again, I know it,” I clenched my jaw, scratching at my cheek nervously. 

   “You can’t assume that,” he lied, slamming my car door and walking round to the driver’s seat. I looked at my reflection in the wing mirror and sighed. 

   “Yes, I can.”