Carly stumbled out of the cop shop into the dark. How long had she been gone? The hours of questions, the probing, the stink of bodies, that awful...she stopped there, knowing full well that if she remembered too much, she’d vomit.
Oh, God!
Her father hadn’t ever told her this might happen. Being scrutinized, recorded, asked the same things over and over like a criminal...no, he’d never thought to mention that.
Shivers overtook her and she clutched her leather jacket closed.
Please, Flo, please send Eli or Strap to get me!
All around her, Atlantic City bustled and hustled. Hookers strolled brazenly down the side street...she could see them from this bench. Cars stopped, the girls got in.
She’d been sitting outside the cop shop long enough to have seen five pick-ups already. Must be a good night for a fast fuck.
Absently, Carly switched a quarter from one pocket to the other, noting that she was running out of coins. This penance had cost her heavily while being interrogated all afternoon.
And then, she was allowed to go. Swell. She was hours from home without her own vehicle. It would take someone a long time to reach her.
So she sat, eyes open and wary, outside the police building in Atlantic City , waiting to be picked up by a friend...at least that was different from the girls on the side street.
Funny, it didn’t exactly feel all that different any more. Just how different was she from the hookers?
The sleaze factor played heavily on her mind as she sat there. Watching. Waiting for redemption or at least a ride home.
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