Standing By

Saving Assets

"This looks great, thank you," he said, selecting a strawberry jelly for his toast.

"Oh, you're welcome," Rachel said again.

We all cleaned our plates—I was surprisingly hungry, despite my nervous stomach. I'd grabbed my Ativan on the way down to help deal with the nerves. Didn't think I needed it quite yet, but I was sure I would. We carried our dishes to the sink and rinsed them off before heading out.

"I'll drive," I volunteered, jiggling my keys in my pocket.

"You OK to drive?" Chance asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him. "Haven't taken the Ativan. Not real anxious. Yet."

Austin snorted at my 'yet'. We piled in my car and I studied the map for a minute to refresh my memory before driving off.

We reached the Starbucks right at 9:15. Austin and Chance got in line for another coffee, but my nerves were slowly increasing so I just skipped it and joined Elliott at a table by the window.

He smiled at me. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "Hanging in there. Rough night, had nightmares."

"Aww, sorry about that." Elliott crossed his legs and bit at a croissant. "Chance and Austin in line?"

"Yeah," I said, toying with a pack of sweetener. Maybe I should get something. A bottle of water, perhaps. I stood up. "Be right back."

I stepped in line and came back with a Dasani and a biscotti. Nibbling on the end, I perched in my chair with the others, Chance and Austin on their second cups of the day.

"So," Elliott began, setting his cup down. "Today is the arraignment. Do you know what that means?"

"They read the charges, right?" I asked nervously.

He nodded. "Yep. It will be several people in front of the judge today. I've done some research and you'll be before Judge Carl Avritt; he's usually pretty reasonable. They got 9:30 and 9:45 arraignments before yours. You and I will be waiting in the wings. Austin, Chance, you can be sitting in the back of the courtroom. You will not be allowed to be with him during proceedings."

Austin sighed but nodded. Chance made a face.

"The judge will call you forward by name and he will tell you what, exactly, you are being charged with." Elliott pulled a folder out of his briefcase and thumbed through it before extracting a piece of paper. "One class A misdemeanor of domestic violence, which basically just means an assault with possible bodily injury. One count of felony for the injury and burn. Then—"

"The burn was an accident!" I squawked. "I didn't do any of it!"

Elliott patted at my hand. "I'm not saying you did. They are required by law to tell you what you are accused of. This is what that is for."

"At what point will we get to tell him they were false charges and that he did not hit her?" Chance asked, toying with the sleeve on his cup.

Elliott held a finger up. "I'm getting there. So, after the charges are read, they'll tell you what the penalty could entail. For the misdemeanor, that would be a fine of up to $2500 and up to eleven months twenty-nine days incarceration. For the—"

I'd already dropped my head into my arms. That was for the misdemeanor? A year in jail, with a hefty fine? Fuuuck. I couldn't even last a day back in the holding cell without severe psychological damage. How long would my nightmares last? Eleven months and twenty-nine days? That's an eternity. I felt a wail rise up from my throat, a wail of agony. A year in jail. I was facing a year in jail if convicted.