Cassie (The Mitchell/Healy Family #7)(22)

Our home life was better, but not because things had changed. Rocky was still a perverted dick, and Tammy remained to be a sore on my ass.

With the exception of the two times I got carried away, the hot tub and then the threesome with Brant, I ignored her like the plague. She was too judgmental to be around without being scrutinized for my actions. She acted like I’d asked for it to happen. If I wanted a mother, I would have gone home.

Speaking of which, I hadn’t contacted anyone in my family, even though I’d purchased a new cell phone. I wanted to feel bad about keeping in touch with my cousins, but they’d never understand my new lifestyle.

I felt invincible, up until everything came crashing down. In the blink of an eye I saw my life flash before my eyes. Now I had to come to terms with my actions, and what I was going to do to save myself, because let’s face it, I’d burned every bridge I had crossed to get to this point.

It was just another day at work, daunting and obviously a necessary means. I’d gone on my break in desperate need of a fix to get me through the next four hours of being on my feet. Like every afternoon, I crouched down in the back corridor outside and prepared my pipe. I packed the contents and began to heat them up until they were ready to inhale. As soon as I took my first hit I saw feet approaching. The glass bowl fell to the concrete ground, the tip shattering and spilling the liquid. I scrambled to keep it covered as the person came to stand over me. My eyes slowly coursed their way up his faded jeans, stopping when something reflective and shiny caught them. It was a badge for the FBI. Almost afraid to look up, I swallowed the lump in my throat and sank down further against the building.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

I was already crying, silently pleading he’d give me a break and let me go. Maybe if I told him how terrible my life had been he’d feel sorry for me; he’d pity my situation.

I felt the metal cuffs being attached to my wrists. This was really happening. I was being detained.

“You’re under arrested for possession of illegal narcotics.” He continued with the rest of the Miranda rights while I bawled uncontrollably, as if it was going to somehow help the situation.

I said nothing as he led me to his unmarked cruiser and put me in the backseat. Once he was seated in the front, he adjusted the mirror to look at me. He removed a pair of aviator sunglasses for a better view. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you drugs were bad?” I watched as he held up my purse before lowering it. I could hear him shuffling through my things. “I have the right to search your property. Is there any needles in here I should know about?”

“No,” I managed to say.

He pulled out my wallet and looked at my license photo. “North Carolina. Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes.”

“So, your current address is this one listed?”

“Yes,” I lied.

He turned to face me instead of talking in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “I know for a fact that you’re lying, Cassandra Healy.”

“It’s Cassie,” I corrected him. “No one has ever called me that.”

“When I file the charges it will have to be under Cassandra. There’s no getting around it.”

“Whatever.” All I could think about was what my parents were going to say when they found out I’d been arrested for drugs. They’d disown me forever. “Do what you need to do.”

“How long have you been using?” He asked.

I shrugged. “Why do you care? Either way I’m going to jail. I’ve just ruined my life, and you want to know how long it’s been going on? It seems irrelevant don’t you think?”

He snickered at my response. “Actually, I’m asking because you’re going to go through withdrawals. In some cases where it’s pretty new, it’s easier to kick.”

“How thoughtful of you to care,” I answered sarcastically. “I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned and started to pull out of the parking lot. I saw a few of my co-workers outside watching me being carted away. My job was probably terminated, and all I could think about was how I was the reason.

In that moment I wanted to die.

The FBI building was set up so we could enter through a back entrance. An agent led me through a long hallway. Another one said something snarky to the guy I was in the presence of. “Looks like you picked up another trophy wife, Campbell. Are you starting a collection to keep at your house?”

“Fuck off, Regan. At least I’m out doing my job. What’s it like being on desk duty? Are you enjoying being the coffee bitch?” He replied while taking us into what looked like an interrogation room. He sat me down and took off the restraints. I brought my arms to the front of my body, trying to relieve some of the pain they were in from being in the same position for quite a while.

He left me sitting inside alone for only a minute before returning with a large manila folder. A single sheet of paper sat on top. It was an arrest form, and he’d already filled out my full name at the top.

I sat silently watching him sealing my fate as he continued to fill out the report. “Do you have anyone you’d like to call, Ms. Healy?”

I thought about Brant, and then my family. “No.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”