Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [9]
“So you’re in jail?” I tried to imagine this, but all I could conjure up were Images of iron bars and guys in zebra-striped suits, like in some cartoon from my childhood.
“I’m not in jail yet,” he said. “I’ve been processed, and they’ll put me in jail if someone doesn’t come down and post a bond.”
“Post a bond?”
“Pay for bail,” he translated.
“Oh. Right.”
“Do you mind, Mom? I’ll pay you back. I mean it might take a while, but I will. Besides, the lady told me that you’ll get your money back after my court date.”
“Court?” I peeked out the bathroom door to see if Geoffrey was hearing any of this, but it seemed he was still asleep.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of stuff I can tell you about later. But can you come now, Mom? Otherwise they’re going to lock me up. And there’s this guy in there who looks like a Satanist or something. I’m scared, Mom.”
“How much is your bail?”
“Five hundred bucks.” He sighed loudly. “And it has to be cash or a money order.”
“But it’s two in the morning, Jacob. I don’t have cash like that—”
The bathroom door suddenly came open, and there stood Geoffrey rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Who is it?”
“Mom,” said Jacob. “I gotta go; my time is up. Please come and get me. I can’t stand it here.” And then the line went dead.
“It’s Jacob,” I told Geoffrey.
“What happened now?”
“He’s in jail.”
Geoffrey said a foul word. I blinked in surprise but didn’t say anything. “He needs us to bail him out,” I said as I headed for my closet. “Why?”
“So he doesn’t have to stay in jail.” I turned and looked at my husband of twenty-five years and wondered if this really was the man I had married and borne two children with.
“A night in jail might do him good,” he said.
“How will it do him good?” I demanded as I pulled on my sweats.
“Teach him there are consequences for his choices.”
“But you should’ve heard him, Geoffrey,” I pleaded. “He was crying. He was sorry. He said he knew he’d messed up and he wanted to change. He wants help.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“But he’s never been this low before, Geoffrey. He needs us. He needs to know that we love him, that we forgive him. Isn’t it what Jesus would do?”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes at me, then headed back to bed. “Aren’t you coming?” I asked as I shoved my foot into a clog. “Nope.”
“Geoffrey!” I went over to the bed now. “He’s your only son. You’re going to just let him rot in jail?”
“One night in jail won’t kill him.”
“How do you know?” I demanded. “I’ve heard stories about abuse… Or what about kids who get so depressed they kill themselves in jail?” “They won’t let him do that.” “How do you know?” “Just go back to bed, Glennis.”
But there was no way I could go back to bed with Images of Jacob’s lifeless body hanging by a sheet suspended from a light fixture in some creepy jail cell. And so I got my purse and climbed into the Range Rover and drove downtown to where our bank has an ATM. I had no idea how much money I could get from this machine, but I decided I would give it my best shot and take whatever I got over to city hall and beg them to release my son. Perhaps I could offer them my engagement ring as collateral.
After all, I assured myself as I drove down Main Street, his father is the city attorney. Surely that should carry some weight at city hall. But to my surprise I was able, after only two tries, to get four hundred and forty dollars, and I had enough cash in my purse to make up the difference. With a thick wad of twenties in my hand, I glanced nervously over my shoulder at the dark and deserted town as I quickly got back into my car and locked the door. I realized this probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d done, but then mothers will do almost anything when they feel their children are in danger.
I felt conspicuous beneath the glaring fluorescent lights in the receiving area of the city jail, I could hear strange sounds from down a hallway, but the only other person around was a young woman dressed in what appeared to be an