I press my palms to the jail cell bench beneath me. I need to get back to Mom. She can’t be alone this long. If she’s texting, she’s not sleeping. And who knows what state of mind she’s in? “Hey, Officer Weinhart?” The broad-shouldered woman sits behind her desk reading the latest edition of the Pineville Post, ignoring me. “Ma’am?” “What do you want, Dalton?” She doesn’t lower her paper, doesn’t look over. “How long do you think I’ll be here?” She finally glances at me. “That’s up to Officer Fogerty. He seems to have plans for you.” She lifts the paper higher, like a wall between us. “Has he contacted my mom?” “Can’t say.” The silence stretches for a long minute. The first message unacknowledged, my phone sounds again with Mom’s tone.
