When I got to the police station, everyone was assembled in some sort of cold dismal back holding room. Jackson was seated in one of those painfully hard metal folding chairs, elbows propped on the table with his head in his hands. Mom, Grandma, and Aunt Jackie were all standing behind him, their war faces ready and ravenous.

            “What happened?” I asked. My mother came to stand beside me a terrifying expression plastered on her face.

            “They said they’re charging him for the murder.” She answered. “We’re looking into getting a lawyer.”

            I turned my attention toward my dispirited cousin. “Don’t even worry about that. I’ll get you the best lawyer there is.”

            He tried to give me a hopeful smile, but the hours of interrogation and prospect of reentering prison had left him ashen and hollow.

            “Cops always trying to put everybody in jail.” My grandmother snorted. “This is some ol’ bullshit!”

            “Mama!”

            “Well, it is.”

            My Grandma Sophie had been a hellcat back in the day. Now as a seventy-eight year old woman she wasn’t any less spirited. Most weekends Grandma would go on drinking benders that lasted from sun up to sun down and still have the energy to get up Sunday morning to go praise Jesus. If there’s one thing the family knows about Grandma Sophie, it’s that she’s one mean drunk. Scratch that, she’s mean sober, sinning, or sleeping.

            “You are far too old to be talking like that.”

            “I’ll talk anyway I goddamn please, Regina.” She adjusted the large curly wig on her head.

            “I’m just concerned about your blood pressure is all.”

“Forget about my blood pressure!” She scoffed. “And hells bells did you hear the way that pretty boy detective talked to me?! I got bottles of whisky older than that little punk. Where’s he at anyway? I’m ready for round two.”

            “Alright,” I said, stepping in to attempt to keep everyone calm. “Jackson, no matter what it takes you are not going back to jail. Promise. I’ll be back.”

            “Where you going?”

            “To have a talk with our friendly neighborhood detective.” Grandma Sophie didn’t miss a beat.

            “Want me to come with you, rough him up a little? If you need me to start taking care of business you know I am all down for that shit.”

            “Uh…That’s okay, Grandma, I think I can handle this one on my own.”

            “Okay. Just holler if you need me.”

            I walked out of the room and stormed to the front, madder than I’d ever been. Damn the man! The front lobby of the station was as busy as ever, even though it was eleven thirty at night. I guess crime doesn’t take a break, even late at night. I looked over towards Manny’s office and saw him in conversation with a uniform.

            His eyes caught mine and he gestured to me to follow him into his office, not even trying to avoid me or escape the tongue lashing he knew was on the way. He led me in and had me sit in one of the chairs across from his.

            “How could you?”

            “Evie look, I’m sorry but it’s my job.”

            “I don’t know what you think you have but Jackson’s not the murderer, Karalyn is.”

            “Listen,” He exhaled profoundly. “I know you want to believe that he’s changed-"

            “He has!-"

            “But, I worked six years in narcotics. These guys don’t change.” He slumped down in his seat like he was bone tired.  “It’s so rare for someone to really, truly change their ways. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve busted guys who promised to stay clean. What you don’t understand, is that lying is an art form for them. They’ve mastered it and no amount of denial from you or your family can change that.”

            “I’m not asking you to ignore reason or do anything but your job. I just want you to treat everyone the way you treat my cousin. I want to see you hound the intern for hours with questions. Or stake-out the rich widows’ house. If you harassed anyone else half as much as you do Jackson, you’d know that Karalyn is your murderer.”

            “How do you figure?”

            “She wanted the money. So she moved it to another account then poisoned him.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense. If she already had the money, why not just leave?”

            “I don’t know, revenge for all those years verbal abuse.”

            He stroked his chin thoughtfully at this. “It’s rare for people to just kill because they don’t like a person. Even if she hated him, there’s no reason to risk it. It makes more sense for Jackson to do it.”

            I stood up forcefully, angry and weary. “I’m tired of you looking for any excuse to bring this back to Jackson.”

            “I only meant that Karalyn is even less likely to do it than Jackson.”

            “Yeah right! You’re just using that tunnel vision of yours to target him yet again.”

            “Oh, I’m using tunnel vision?” He said this like he was insulted. And maybe he was, I didn’t care. I was long past the point of giving a good goddamn what he thought.

            “Yeah! You’re so busy lecturing me on how thugs never change that you don’t realize that by focusing on Jackson you’re letting the real killer get away with murder.” I had my hand on the knob ready to storm out of there, but he was up and across the room quick. One powerful arm shot out, slamming against the door and halting my exit.

            “Okay, I tried reasoning with you, now I’m just going to start giving orders. Listen close, because I’m only going to say this one more time. Stay out of police business. I don’t care what you think you know. I don't want to hear you theorize what kind of psycho would poison an entire cake. I’m not putting up with your craziness anymore. It’s not your business how I conduct my investigation. If you continue to stand in my way or talk to me any kind of way again, Miss Harper, I’ll exercise my authority and arrest you.”

            “Go to hell!”

            But that bastard didn’t reply, or even get angry. He didn’t even flinch. I wasn’t used to people responding with silence. If he would have yelled back or frowned or threatened me then I would have known how to react. But he didn’t do any of that, he just stared; calm and collected, but still firm. His lack of reaction diffused my anger; all I felt now was exhaustion. And so all I could do was leave.

            I was out of time, simple as it was. I’d failed Jackson and now we’d have to go through the process of hiring a lawyer who could defend him. Even though he was innocent his chances weren’t good. Like Detective Juarez, the court would likely zero in on his criminal record and therefore be harder on him. I want to keep fighting, I do, but it’s been a long week. And I’m tired, and defeated, and annoyed.

            I went back to the family, and then reassured them again. Then I left them there to deal while I went and rested up for the fight I knew was coming. On my way out the large entrance to the police station I looked back and saw Grandma Sophie waddling her way toward Manny. As I looked at my seventy year old grandma, rage on her face and ready for that second round I knew: She could take him.

            Give him hell, grandma.

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A/N: Man that was the worst case of writer's block I've ever had. It took me forever to work out the conversation between Evie and Detective Juarez. But the good news is (for the two and a half people who are actually reading this) since I outline, while I was in the middle of the block I managed to write from chapter 19 all the way to the end. So I should have all the chapters up by the end of the week, then the story will be finished. So less waiting in the future.