Free Blood Junction by Caroline Carver Page A

and the caffeine was perking her up surprisingly well.
    “Why is Mike called Mikey the Knife?” she asked Whitelaw.
    He gave her a measured look. “Why do you think?”
    “Because he knifed someone?”
    “Correct.”
    “Who did he knife?”
    Stan made a small choking sound but Whitelaw cut in. “You’d do best to ask him yourself.” He cast a sidelong glance at Stan,
     who sat back, looking furious.
    India found herself staring at the remaining four doughnuts, the polystyrene cups, in a state of weariness. She looked at
     the lawyer. “Jerome, surely the police can’t hold me here indefinitely without a court order or something?”
    “We don’t need anything,” Stan said.
    Whitelaw’s expression turned inward as he got to his feet, walked to the door. “Sergeant Bacon’s right,” he said. “We can
     hold you for twelve hours without any sort of order.”
    “Twelve! But I’ve been here since midday yesterday!”
    Jerome hurriedly explained the meaning of Time Out, and that the time she’d spent waiting for her solicitor didn’t count.
     The police were, he went on to say, actually only allowed to hold a suspect for four hours but Cooinda PD had gotten an eight-hour
     extension. The total of twelve hours in jail started when the questioning did.
    India glanced at Jerome’s watch again. “It still means they’ve run out of time. Question time started six-thirty yesterday.
     They’re breaking the law. They’ve got to let me go.”
    Stan rose so violently his chair fell to the floor with a crash. “Who says the magistrate hasn’t given us special dispensation
     so we can go to court in an hour and get permission to hang on to you as long as we goddam like?” he ground out. He then gave
     her a humorless smile and joined Whitelaw at the door. They both stepped outside, letting it bang behind them.
    “Is that true?” India asked Jerome weakly.
    “Unfortunately, yes.”
    “This town’s completely mad! How can they possibly think I killed Tiger and Lauren out of jealousy when I only arrived yesterday?
     For God’s sake, I only met Tiger because my car broke down, and I never even
saw
Lauren let alone knew what she was up to with Tiger. I’ve got to get out and find out what the hell’s going on or I may never
     see daylight again. You’ve got to get me bail!”
    “How much bail can you afford, in cash?”
    “Ten thousand, tops.”
    “That’s not going to help us much. Don’t you have a surety, perhaps a house, you can put up?”
    “No.”
    “What about a car?”
    “I’ve a Honda Civic in Melbourne. I bought it for five hundred bucks.”
    “Can any friends help?”
    “Not yet.” She filled him in on Scotto. “I’ll get bail, right?”
    He sucked on his lips.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “We’re in front of Judge Deacon,” Jerome said on a sigh. “Judge Dread to you and me.”

    India found out where she stood at her arraignment at ten-thirty: $250,000. She felt suddenly light-headed and knew she was
     white as chalk. Jerome asked for bail reduction, arguing that she would have a solid alibi within the next few days, that
     she was a well-known journalist who had never been arrested before and was a tourist from out of town and no danger to anyone.
     The judge watched him impassively, then said, “Thank you, Mr. Trumler, but may I point out that your client is also a long
     way from home, and seems to have no family to help her in her current difficulties. In my opinion she is a serious flight
     risk. The bail stands as is.”
    They all rose, the judge left and India sank back on the bench between Jerome and a constable with downy-blond stubble like
     rabbit fur. The constable gave her a sympathetic grimace. He crimped a cuff around her wrist for the trip back to jail.
    Tears trembled in her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. She didn’t want to cry, hadn’t cried for as long as she could remember,
     but the strain and fatigue of the last two days had left her with an overwhelming