The first man who approaches Tatia on the street turns out to be Officer Kevin Adams, and she spends her first night in jail.
For the past few weeks I have been sharing sample chapters of Tatia’s Tattoo. Links to previous chapters are at the end of this post. Following is Chapter 20.
CHAPTER 20: …AND IN THE SLAMMER
The man reached into his hip pocket and pulled out his wallet. He popped it open with one smooth, practiced move, exposing his badge and confirming Tatia’s worst fears.
“Kevin Adams, Cameron PD. You’re under arrest for prostitution. Stand up and turn around with your hands behind your back.”
As he began reciting her rights, he pulled some flex-cuffs out of his pocket. He hated the things, because if you tightened them too much, you had to cut them off and start over before your detainee ended up with blue hands. The metal ones tended to rattle at the wrong time, though, so he made do.
“Do you understand these rights as I’ve told them to you?” he asked as he tested the cuffs to make sure he hadn’t made them too loose.
“Yes,” said Tatia in a voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the buzz of her cell phone. “Can I take my phone?”
“You can’t handle it in the car, and you know you can’t keep it when they put you in a cell.”
“Oh,” she replied with tears in her voice.
“First time?” he asked with his voice softening a little.
He picked up the phone and slid it into his pocket. “They’ll give it back to you when you’re released.”
Tatia nodded, biting her lip and struggling to control the fear of what would happen when she was released. Eric had no patience with girls who cost him time and money by getting arrested. Officer Adams held her arm securely but not roughly as he directed her back to his car, and he was careful not to bump her head when he helped her into the back seat. She knew Eric would not be so gentle.
While he drove to the station, Tatia saw him glancing at her in the rearview mirror every now and then. Finally, he spoke.
“What’s your last name, Kaitlyn?”
“Golden,” she answered.
“How old are you.”
She did a quick mental calculation, making sure her answer matched her ID. “Twenty,” she said.
“Shame,” he said. “If you were, say, sixteen or seventeen, this would be a lot easier for you – especially if you told me where to find the guy you texted back in the room.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “That was just my roommate letting her know that I wouldn’t be home tonight.”
“Ahh,” he said cynically. “I thought it might be your pimp.”
“No, I don’t have a manager. I’m on my own – just making a little spending money,” she said, trying to sound much more blasé than she felt.
Both driver and passenger were silent for the rest of the trip. Adams pulled into a parking lot where he pulled in between two patrol cars. He helped Tatia out and guided her up the steps into the station and past the front desk where an officer was talking on the phone with his feet up on the desk.
“Slow night, huh?” said Adams.
“Yeah. Looks like you got a live one.”
“Uh-huh. Is Anderson here?”
“Yeah, she’s taking a break. We don’t have a houseful, but there are a few ahead of you.”
Tatia’s eyes were wide with apprehension as the reality of her situation played out in front of her. “Where are you taking me?” she whispered to Kevin.
He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “To a holding cell where you’ll stay until we’re ready to complete the booking process. Then you’ll be moved to a pre-arraignment cell where you’ll stay until the judge gets here and gets started tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” she said with tears puddling and threatening to spillover.
“It won’t be too bad. I type slow, and the night’s half over anyway.”
“You still have my phone, right?”
“Right here,” he said, patting his pocket.
The holding cell was down the hall from the front desk, but Tatia wished it was miles further. The small barred room was bare except for four metal benches bolted to the wall and the floor, a sink against the back wall, and an exposed toilet next to it. Women were lying on two of the benches with their faces turned toward the wall, and a third was sitting on another. None of them paid any attention as Kevin and Tatia approached. The officer who was sitting outside the cell at a tiny desk, however, gave her a thorough inspection.
“Hey, Adams! Looks like you caught a new one tonight. I haven’t seen her around here before.”
“Be nice, Hill. She’s never been inside before.”
“Yeah, first time but probably not the last. You know the drill – sign her in.” He shoved a clip board toward Kevin and continued his inspection of Tatia. Kevin wrote down her name, his name as the arresting officer, and the time.
“Okay, Hill. Get your lazy butt out of that chair and open the door so we can get on with this.”
While Hill unlocked the door, Kevin pulled a utility knife out of his pocket and used it to remove the cuffs from Tatia’s wrists. She rubbed her wrists, not because they hurt, but because she couldn’t believe she had actually been handcuffed. Hill swung the door open, she took a couple of steps inside, and stopped, frozen in place.
“This might take a little while,” said Kevin. “There are three ahead of you, but Officer Anderson will come get you and finish the process as soon as she can.”
About ten minutes later, Tatia moved toward the remaining vacant bench when she realized her toes were going numb from standing in four-inch heels. She sat on the edge of the bench, just enough to take the pressure off her feet, and stared at her hands to avoid making eye contact with anyone.
Tatia didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when she heard a female voice call out a name. She looked up long enough to watch Officer Anderson collect one of the other women and take her back down the hall. Anderson didn’t look nearly as nice as Kevin. In fact, the tall, husky brunette had a scowling mouth and an intense look that scared Tatia. She scooted back against the wall, tucked her feet under her, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep from trembling.
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Anderson was calling her name. She stumbled to the door, trying to clear the sleep out of her head, and followed the officer to another room where she was instructed to sit down in the chair beside the desk. Anderson tapped on her keyboard for a few minutes, then, she began to ask Tanya some simple questions.
Tatia caught herself before she gave her real name. “Kaitlyn Golden.”
She made it through the rest of the questions, stumbling only slightly over her date of birth. She gave Cindy as her contact person, and she answered the medical questions easily since she had always been healthy. Before she printed the completed form, Anderson asked three more questions.
“Do you understand that you are being booked on a charge of Prostitution, a Class B misdemeanor?”
“Yes,” replied Tatia quietly.
“Were your rights read to you, and do you understand those rights?”
“Yes,” she whispered, thinking that the only rights she had were the ones Eric said she had.
“Would you like to make a phone call?”
Anderson dialed the number Tatia gave her and then handed the phone to her. Tatia listened hopefully to several rings, but her face fell as the voice mail activated. She listened to the familiar message before leaving one of her own. “Cindy, I hope you got my text. I’m at the Cameron PD, and court starts in less than an hour. Please come get me!”
The sound of Tatia’s voice was covered by the chatter of the printer next to Anderson’s desk. The officer took the phone back from Tatia and reached into her desk drawer, pulling out an ink pad and another form. As if she was grabbing another implement off her desk, she grabbed Tatia’s hand and began rolling her fingers, first across the ink and then across the form. While she worked, Tatia asked her first question.
“Will I be searched?”
The hint of a smile tugged at one corner of the officer’s mouth. Without looking up, she replied. “Not that a full-body search would be all that new to you, but no. I don’t think you could hide anything under that dress. Besides,” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s less than an hour until court convenes. We won’t even have time to put you into one of our lovely orange jumpsuits.”
Anderson directed Tatia to an area with a backdrop that reminded Tatia of the back of the closet door where her mother measured her every few months to see how much she had grown. It was the first time she could remember being glad her mother was dead – at least she didn’t have to see what her daughter had become.
“Face the camera and hold this in front of you,” said Anderson as she handed her a slate with her name and a series of numbers on it. After snapping a front view and a profile shot, Anderson directed Tatia back to her desk. “Have a seat while I get your inmate ID.”
She came back in a few minutes with a strip of plastic that contained Tatia’s ID number, her name, her mug shot, and a bar code. As Anderson fastened the bracelet around Tatia’s wrist, she caught a glimpse of Tatia’s tattoo peeking out from under her three-quarter-length sleeve. She pushed the sleeve up a little and made a clucking sound with her tongue.
“Looks like you already have an ID. I thought Officer Adams said you were a solo act.”
Tatia pulled her sleeve down, folded her arms across her chest so the tattoo was well hidden, and exercised her right to remain silent.
# # #
Thank you for following Tatia’s adventures through the first 20 of 55 chapters. You can find the complete book on Amazon in either digital for $.99 or paperback.
Preface and Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16| Chapter 17 | Chapter 18| Chapter 19