Read Online The Final Line by Kendall McKenna - Free Book Online Page B

know how long this is going to take. I’m not sure they’ll let you come in, though.”
    Sean’s answer was to open his door. “If they won’t let me in, I’ll wait in the car.”
    Corey’s relief was acute and he hadn’t been aware he’d wanted Sean to come with him. He hoped the deputies would let him inside.
    At the after-hours public pedestrian door, Corey thumbed the button on the small call box.
    “Can I help you?” A tinny voice barked.
    Looking up into the camera above the door, Corey said in a loud voice, “Staff Sergeant Corey Yarwood, USMC, I’m looking for Sergeant Manny Lopez regarding Marine Sergeant Michael Nygaard.”
    “Just a minute, Staff Sergeant,” the voice replied.
    Corey walked in a small circle to hide his agitation and anxiety. He glanced up to see Sean standing a few feet away, hands buried in the front pockets of his jeans. He was watching Corey closely. At least he didn’t have his arms folded over his chest again.
    The door opened and a deputy sheriff emerged, dressed in the familiar uniform of khaki blouse and olive green trousers. His brass nameplate said his last name was Pierce. “Staff Sergeant Yarwood?”
    Corey took a single step forward. “I’m Yarwood. I needed to catch a ride here.” He indicated Sean. “Can my friend come in with me or does he need to wait in the car?”
    “If he drove here, I assume he’s got picture ID?” Pierce asked.
    “Yes, sir,” Sean answered quickly.
    Pierce held the door open wide for them both to enter. “Let’s get you two logged in as visitors and then I’ll take you Sergeant Lopez’s office.” Stopping in front of a wall filled with medium sized lock boxes, the deputy said, “Put all your personal belongings, except your picture IDs, in a lockup. Wallets, cell phones, car keys, anything and everything.”
    It took just a few seconds for Corey and Sean to stash their gear in boxes and punch their codes into the electronic locking mechanisms. Next, Deputy Pierce led them down a short corridor toward a counter topped with bullet resistant plastic, much like he’d begun to see in banks.
    VDF was much like every other jail Corey had been in. Luckily, he’d always been the one doing the bailing, never the one getting bailed out. It was cold and sterile, with concrete floors and smooth, off-white walls. The fluorescent lighting reflected off of the flat white of the walls, the glare nearly painful. Doors, sills and the counter ahead were all painted a pleasant shade of royal blue, but nothing could really make a jail a happy place. The scent of antiseptic never completely wiped away the musty jail smell. Beneath it all was the constant odor of unwashed bodies, excrement and vomit.
    Corey glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to find Sean glancing around curiously. He was most likely cataloging the experience so he could reference it later on for a role he might someday play. Corey knew Sean was affected by the sterility of the jail when he ran up and down his own arm briskly, as if trying to build up any heat possible to ward off the undeniable chill. The slight wrinkle in his ski-jump nose spoke volumes on Sean’s opinion of the smell.
    Their footsteps echoed off the hard, bare walls. For safety and security, all the doors were locked. Since it was Saturday night, none of the civilian staff would be working. The Corrections Deputies were all inside the secure portion of the jail, watching over the prisoners. The chaotic ruckus of the population was nearly as loud as their footfalls. Corey was glad they wouldn’t have to enter any further into the facility than prisoner intake.
    When they reached the chest-height counter top, Sean handed over his California driver’s license and Corey produced his military ID card. The deputy behind the secure plexi-glass wore a brass nameplate that said his name was Daniels. This deputy ran quick checks on each of them for wants, warrants, and criminal histories. He declared them clean