Chapter 8 - Margaret Sits In A Cold Police Holding Cell
Miles away at the county precinct detention center, Margaret sat alone inside a sterile, fluorescent-lit holding cell.
Her sharp navy blue blazer was wrinkled, and her styled silver hair was coming undone in messy strands.
She paced back and forth across the concrete floor, muttering furious insults under her breath at the police and her family.
“This is an absolute outrage! I am a pillar of this community; you have no right locking me in here!” she shouted.
A bored desk sergeant walked past the iron bars, glancing at her with complete professional indifference.
“Save your speeches for the arraignment judge tomorrow morning, Mrs. Vance; your holding period is locked,” he replied flatly.
Margaret gripped the steel bars with her handcuffed wrists, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated panic.
She realized her wealth and social circle couldn't instantly spring her from a felony aggravated assault charge.
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Her phone had been confiscated during booking, cutting off all communication with her high-priced defense attorneys.
The reality of her impending downfall began to sink into her arrogant mind with crushing weight.
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