One wrong word can send me to prison for life or worse.

No, when in doubt, keep your fucking mouth shut. That should be the motto of every single person who has ever been arrested.

There is no explaining to the cops.

There is no pandering.

There is no over-extending.

Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, at least in this country. That means it’s in your best interest to stay quiet, no matter how much you want to speak up in your defense.

I’m tempted to question their eyewitness reports and their video recordings. I’m tempted to find out more about what they have but they will only share things that will make me even more curious.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, sitting back in my chair. “I’m making another request to see an attorney. I already told the cop in the car on the way over here, the other FBI agents, and you. I’m entitled to representation and that’s what I want.”

3

Olive

When I see him…

When they pull him away from me and put him into handcuffs, I collapse onto the floor. Two police officers have to hold me up to keep me upright as my legs completely let go. Someone starts talking to me and when I don’t respond, another person pipes in. But I don’t hear a thing they’re saying.

A loud buzzing sound reverberates in my head, blocking all incoming sound. I see their mouths move and I see them tugging at my arms trying to position me here and then there but I don’t respond. It’s like everything is happening to someone else. Is that possible?

Some time passes before some of the shock wears off. The cops gather in clumps outside, holding their jackets around their necks as the snow starts to fall. I look out of the window to try to get a glimpse of Nicholas but they’ve taken him to some car out by the road. I can’t see him and he can’t see me.

What must he be thinking at this moment?

My heart tightens as my breathing becomes more laborious. What if…I don’t let myself go there at first. But then I can’t stop the thoughts from flooding in.

What if he thinks it’s me?

What if he thinks I led them here, on purpose?

Someone talks to me again but his words don’t get processed. When he hands me my clothes, I put them on. When he hands me my coat, I put that on. When he hands me Solly, I take him in my arms and pet his head, letting out a deep sigh of relief.