“Muffy!” I yelled with what little breath I could get into my lungs, while trying to push the officer off my back.
It took some effort to move the policeman, especially considering his girth. I supposed I should have thanked him for putting himself on the line to protect a rolling-pin-wielding, gun-hiding murder suspect but I was more worried about my dog.
“Muffy!” I screamed again, starting to run after her when I finally broke free.
One of the officers grabbed my arm and dragged me back, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and cinching my hands behind my back.
“What are you doing?” I cried out in disbelief.
“You were fleeing the scene of a crime investigation.”
“I was running after my dog!” I screamed and turned to the street. “MUFFY!” And then I began to cry. I’d been fine up to that point, but I was afraid I’d never see Muffy again and I broke out into wails of anguish. Just when I thought I’d seen it all, Joe ran off his front porch in the direction Muffy had gone.
The crowd reassembled. It wasn't every day they saw someone handcuffed. I sat down on the grass by my driveway, not an easy task when you can’t use your hands to help yourself down. People took out cell phones and snapped pictures. I was big news for Henryetta, especially with tears and snot dripping down my face that I couldn’t wipe away, seeing how my hands were preoccupied.
The police got the crowd settled down and they confirmed the noise to be backfire. Everything back under control, the officers returned to the task at hand, cleaning out my shed.
Deanna showed up, furious when she discovered me sitting in the grass wearing handcuffs. She asked for a search warrant, just in time for the police to announce they had emptied everything out of the shed and found nothing. The anonymous tip said the gun would be wrapped in a yellow towel under the lawn mower, but all they found was a wrench wrapped in the towel. Deanna told them my sister and aunt would confirm my whereabouts Wednesday night.
One of the officers lifted me none too gently off the ground and uncuffed my numb hands. They began to clear out the crowd and returned to their police cars.
“Hey!” I called, thoroughly irritated. “Are you going to clean up that mess?”
They looked at me as though I’d just asked them to scrub my toilet.
Deanna took me inside the kitchen and reamed me up and down. She told me if I ever again dealt with the police without her present, she would drop me in an instant.
She left, the police left, then finally the straggling crowd left. But Joe still hadn’t returned. And neither had Muffy.
It was now eight o’clock and I still didn't know what was supposed to be on the flash drive. And even if I could fudge it, I didn't have access to a computer. Could I go and convince them to leave Violet alone if I showed up with nothing? I had no doubt I’d be dead, but that would be okay if they left Violet alone.
I heard a knock on the kitchen door and it swung open before I could answer. Joe entered without Muffy, looking devastated. All the fury and fear came roaring out and I attacked him, pounding his chest with my fists.
“I hate you! I hate you, Joe McAllister! You set me up to be arrested and because of you, Muffy’s lost and I’ll never see her again. You used me! You and Hilary must have had fun laughing at poor, stupid Rose. You never even liked me! You just used me to get that stupid flash drive and I don't even know what’s on it! Now because of you, I’m gonna die and I don't have time to save Violet. I hate you!”
He let me hit him at first, but he grabbed my fists and held them to his chest when I mentioned dying. I’d said too much.
“Whoa, slow down. What do you mean you don't know what’s on the flash drive? Where is it?”
“It’s there in that Walmart bag.”
He let go of me to tear into the Walmart bag next to my purse. “Rose,” he said, his voice rising in panic. “This hasn’t even been opened!”
“I know!”
“If you don’t have a computer, how are you going to put the information on it? Where’s the real flash drive?” He tossed the package onto the table.
“I don’t know!” I screamed.
“Did someone steal it in one of the break-ins?”
“I never had it! I didn’t even know anything about a stupid flash drive until the night of Sloan’s visitation when Daniel Crocker found me and dragged me down the hall, telling me if I didn’t deliver it tonight at ten, I was gonna be sorry.”
Joe sat in the kitchen chair, his face white. “Oh, my God.”