Fly With Me

12- How On Earth

We arrived at the Merritt Island police station within a few minutes, and I was pulled roughly out of the patrol car and pushed inside and into a holding cell. I didn't even bother protesting, but instead sat quietly on the little bench that was provided against one of the walls. It wasn't long before, with my back and head resting against the wall, I fell asleep, my adrenaline rush from the arrest gone.

I was rather rudely awakened by a tall blond man unlocking the door and addressing me by the terribly formal "Ms. Brown."

I sat up and glared at the shiny-headed man, "It's Ms. Sprile, actually."

His dull brown eyes registered surprise for a moment, but his face quickly recomposed itself into an expressionless mask. "Ms. Br--"

I quirked an eyebrow.

"Ms. Sprile, would you mind explaining to me your actions in New York?"

I rolled my eyes at him and leaned back against the wall again. "I'm fairly certain you already know 'my actions in New York'." Smirking a little bit, I shrugged nonchalantly. "I kidnapped a guy, remember?"

Blondie's eyes narrowed at me; he was probably annoyed that I wasn't taking this as seriously as he was. "Are you confessing, then?"

I think of Brandon and his family. If I confessed now I could probably spare them a lot of unwanted publicity. I could spare their lives now--make it so that cameras weren't shoved into their faces. The thought of Brandon being called 'a helpless victim' in a news article about the kidnapping was definitely amusing, but I couldn't do that to them. Then again, I was a very selfish person. If I confessed, I would be put on trial for not only the 'kidnapping' but for the man-slaughter of my parents as well. That was not an appealing idea.

So, being the selfish person that I was, I said, "Yep, that's exactly what I'm doing." Wait. What? "I kidnapped Brandon Nickson from his writing conference in New York city and dragged him around with me across America."

The blond must have been as surprised at my words as I was because he blinked a few times before he spoke. "What drove you to your actions, Ms. Sprile?"

A short bitter laugh ripped out of me, accompanied by a sudden coughing fit. I covered my mouth with my fist, ignoring the little flecks of red that coated it afterwards, then replied. "I was bored. Thought a little illegal action would spice life up a bit." A strange metallic taste had filled my mouth, but I forced a grin through it. "Mission accomplished."

"Really?" The man in front of me seemed skeptical, and he moved back towards the cell door. "There is a young man here who disputes your story."

Brandon was pushed forward then, and he rushed towards me. "Calypso!" he shouted, throwing his arms around me and hugging me to him tightly. "Thank goodness you're alright." I went stiff in his arms and didn't respond to him. As if realizing his actions, he pulled back, blushing, and took a step back. "Sorry."

"How on earth did you get here?" I demanded through gritted teeth, glaring at the glasses-clad boy in front of me.

"Well, you were taken by the MI police..." he muttered, the corners of his mouth turning upward a little bit. "It wasn't that hard to guess where they were going to take you."

The blond man cleared his throat then and gestured for me to stand. "Come along, you two. The FBI would like to have a word with you both."

Wordlessly, I stood and followed the two men out of the holding cell and into the main interior of the station. A man and a woman, both in suits, stood in the middle of a large room, their posture rigid and gazes calculating as they looked at me. With a brief nod to the blond police man, they led Brandon and I out of the station and to a large SUV. We climbed in and drove off.