Consequences

Part 41

It was just as well Doug wasn't sound asleep when the phone went at three in the morning. He'd been reliving that kiss, astounded by the fact that such a simple action had raced his pulse and was now keeping him awake. He answered the phone on the third ring, on automatic pilot. But it had taken a while to dawn on him that he was speaking to the police, and that they were asking him to come down to the police station on the docks. But what floored him was that they weren't hauling him down to deal with his brother, as they had done during his brother's late teens, but they wanted him there to attend to Isabelle!

Doug dressed quickly and haphazardly as his brain replayed the telephone conversation with the police. Despite the conversation run through for the hundredth time he was still baffled. They'd picked up Isabelle? His Isabelle? Fighting down at the docks? Time warp. Surely this was some sort of time warp.

Isabelle was sitting quietly on the edge of a bench when Doug came through the open door. He had half heard the man on duty explain why they had contacted him. They had his contact details, from the times they'd had to contact him to bail Ryan. They'd all read the papers and his recent engagement was doing the rounds at the station. After all, it wasn't often that a kid from this side of the docks got hitched to a society heiress. "Sorry, but she wasn't saying anything. Thought as you were engaged, you'd be the best option."

"She asked for me?" Doug asked quietly.

The man shook his head. "No, until we told her we'd contacted you, she hadn't asked for anyone. Then she asked us to contact her lawyer."

Doug didn't recognise her. She was wearing a blonde wig, her face was well made up, lots of makeup, and her clothes were anything but chic. Her mini was barely decent, the halter top barely there, and how the hell could she walk in those thigh high boots with spikes for heels? What happened to class?

He'd spoken with the duty officer, knew that they were holding her until they could get hold of her lawyer. In the meantime they had left her with the other six prostitutes, who they had segregated into two cells.

"What are you doing here?" He frowned. What was she doing at the Docks? What was she doing dressed like this? This was not the woman he was contemplating marrying. Not his high class society belle.

"I don't think I've been arrested, but they say they are checking my story." Isabelle had never been arrested before, and for a brief moment in time she had decided to stay with the others and see what it was that they experienced. It wasn't until they'd told her that they had called Doug, that she realised she couldn't just go along for the experience even if it was for a short time. She had intended to ask for her lawyer, but only after she had seen at first hand how these women were treated. She could understand why they contacted Doug. Obviously her name had rung bells, and the recent announcement had led them to believe that Doug would be her point of contact. She knew that what she and Marina had been doing for years would surface, and she had spent the last hour trying to figure out whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. She intended asking her lawyer whether they had any right to contact Doug without her requesting him. She'd deal with that later. Right now, she had to deal with a rather angry, tired and puzzled man.

"And what is your story." His eyes narrowed. He barely recognized her. How had the guy on duty recognised her? She gave her name, but it could have been an impersonator or she could have given him a false name. His world started to crumble.

"Ah." She lapsed into silence. A leaden weight took up residence in her heart.

"Are you going to explain?" He took in the torn clothes, the make up, the wig. He was having a great deal of difficulty in dealing with what was rapidly becoming apparent. His high class, society, well mannered, Isabelle was a common prostitute. No wonder she could kiss. He doubted that was all she was good at.

Isabelle heard his tone. Well, at least now she knew what he really thought of her. So she ignored him. She simply sat, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded neatly, eyes focused on the cell bars.

"She was trying to stop us fighting." A tall redheaded woman told him, coming away from the wall, to stand a few feet from him, on the other side of bars. "Only she'd be stupid enough to try." He could smell the stale cigarette smoke on her breath from five yards away, but when she came closer he had to force himself to stay put. She reminded him of his mother.

"A fight?" Doug's eyes winged skyward. "You?" He looked over at Isabelle, looked her up and down in disbelief and consternation and increasing fury. This couldn't be the same woman, not his Isabelle. Fight? She barely raised her voice. There was no way she would get into a brawl. She was a classy lady. His Isabelle wouldn't associate with these women. "Why are you dressed like this?"

"I'd rather not discuss it, if you don't mind." She was dressed like this because she didn't want to get recognized. Her Godmother suggested no one would take any notice if she snuck into the centre dressed like a hooker.

"Do you want me to get you out of here or not?" Doug was at the end of his patience. He was in shock. But that was rapidly changing and becoming anger. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. He'd been duped. It was an unexpected con. An unexpected hurt.