It seemed unimaginable to Caleb that instead of hearing that the blood test results had shown that, in fact, he was very innocent of the murders of his wife and unborn baby, the results from the lab, had shown that his blood had been on the handle and blade of the knife. In his heart, even though he had been terrified of hearing the results, he had believed that there could have been no other conclusion, other than the investigators finding him innocent. Instead of moving on to the next suspect, they had made their accusations against him clear. They thought he killed his wife, and now they had the forensic evidence of that.

The young man knew it would have been pointless to argue his case, but he could not let himself go down the hole without first presenting his strongest argument. He had not been there. He had been at work the night his wife had been killed, and he had only stepped outside for a minute for a quick break. That would not have been enough time to travel across town, and kill her. He knew that to be true, but it was not his opinion that made the difference. Wishing more than anything he thought to have Dawn in this meeting with him, he vaguely listened to Allen and Reynolds present their reasonings for why it clearly had to be him.

Then, they had informed him that he was under arrest for her murder. It did not surprise him once he heard the results of the blood retesting. If they had that one crucial piece of evidence to pin on him, they would have no other reason not to charge him with murder. He knew this, but it was still horrifying that he was being put in the position of having to defend his life against these accusations. His throat was dry, and his body was shaking as he allowed himself to be cuffed, and searched. One of the two investigators had clearly tried to be the good cop with him, and so had treated him with a small amount of respect. He could tell the other did not harbor any such feelings.

In their minds, they had found the killer of Katie Rivers, and had found a suitable story to feed to the vultures in the media, who would be wanting to know this kind of thing so they could reassure the town that it was safe again. The big, bad killer had been caught, and the town could once again resume it's normal life. The thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. The town that he had grown up in and loved, had turned its back on him, and he certainly felt like the police had done the exact same thing. These people used to work with his father, and now they were in charge of putting his son in jail.

Lifting his head up when Allen opened the door for him to proceed, he knew it was time to go. He could not stand the thought of seeing the looks on people's faces when the husband of Katie Rivers was led out of the conference-style room in handcuffs. It was humiliating, and it was horrific to him that he would be in the position of having to defend himself against this kind of thing. Walking out when they directed him to, he swallowed the roll of nausea that was beginning to swirl.

Trying to control the insane pounding of his heart, he allowed Allen to place a hand on his arm to guide him down the long hallways that separated the private meeting rooms from the actual jail part. The station had been rebuilt years ago as a result of private funding.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to avoid looking at the other people that were in the lobby or (waiting area) of the police department. It was embarrassing, and while he knew that he had done nothing to deserve being treated like this, the regular citizens out on the street, wouldn't.

In their minds, they trusted what their local police told them, and if they saw the husband being carted off in handcuffs, they would have the answer to a mystery that had haunted them from the time Katie had been murdered.

It didn't make any sense to him, and while he would have loved to have told them the truth right there and then, he knew that wouldn't necessarily be allowed. Gritting his teeth, he was relieved when they reached the final stop in the jail, the part where he would be booked for the crime that he had allegedly committed.

Reynolds left them briefly to go start the paperwork that would be needed to make the arrest official. Caleb was glad. He couldn't stand being in the same room with him, much less having him escort him to jail.

Trying to make himself as comfortable as possible while he and Allen waited, he turned to the younger cop. He wasn't so bad, and in a new life and world, he would have probably been friends with someone like him, but it was the feelings attached to the fact that he had caused his arrest, that partially stopped him from feeling too warm and fuzzy toward him.

Even though he wasn't as harsh as Reynolds, he was still a cop and one that had refused to believe his story when it was the absolute truth, and when he would have sooner died himself than go after his wife and unborn child.

"Can you—can you loosen my cuffs?" Caleb asked quietly, as he looked at Allen.

It was an age-old excuse that suspects used when they were under arrest, and had to be placed in handcuffs, but for Caleb, he was absolutely serious when he made that request to Allen. The cuffs hurt, and he knew that it wasn't because he had tried to get out of them, or had fought them in any way.

It was most likely Reynolds being overly cocky and placing them on too tight when the situation hadn't even called for it.

"Let me see," Allen said, as he performed a simple test of sliding one finger between his wrist and the cuff to determine whether or not they were actually tight or not.

Not to his surprise, Caleb actually heard him click his tongue in disapproval of his partner.

"Are they too tight?" Caleb asked, as though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. I'll loosen them. Just a fair warning, though. Normally, the cuffs are actually more comfortable tight than loose, but I can do it."

"Thanks."

Allen loosened them, while also making sure not to give Caleb enough time to slide or wriggle his hands out. He knew that Reynolds liked to be a bully, someone who intimidated his suspects and made them crack, and while he was like that to a certain extent, he also didn't like himself actually sinking down to the point where he put the cuffs on too tight, and running the risk of causing actual damage to the wrist itself.

"Does that feel better?" Allen asked, once he was done.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"Good."

"What's taking your partner so long?"

"Filling out paperwork, that kind of thing."

"Oh. Not that it's any of my business, but what's the deal with you guys? You seem halfway decent, and he just seems like a jerk."

Allen actually smiled, Caleb took that as a good sign.

"He likes to be the tough guy," Allen explained, "and with me, I just don't think bullying or intimidation is the right way to go. There's other means of getting answers without resorting to that."

"I know. My Dad used to be an officer here," Caleb remarked, wondering if Allen would recognize the name, or even the fact that the son of an officer was now being charged with murder.

"Seriously? What was his name?"

"Dan Rivers. Ring a bell?"

"Yeah, it does actually."

"That was him."

"Wow."

"I know."

They didn't get much chance to talk after that. Fountain returned after completing the paperwork that was the first step in getting him integrated into the system. Standing up with difficulty, he followed Reynolds and Allen into the main processing and booking area.

"Don't try anything," Reynolds warned, as he took the cuffs off just long enough to allow him to be fingerprinted and photographed. "And while these are off, I need to see anything that I didn't catch when I patted you down."

"There isn't anything else," Caleb said, not even looking him in the eye.

"No other personal objects on you?" Reynolds prompted.

"I already said no."

"Okay," Allen said, stepping in when it was apparent that Caleb refused to deal with Reynolds any further. "We also need your shoes off and any belt that you may have on."

"Why the belt?" Caleb asked, somewhat joking as he complied with what he was saying.

"We don't want you hanging yourself," Allen said, accepting the belt and shoes that Caleb handed to him. "Okay, and now is when we do another search to make sure that there isn't anything else that may be concealed somewhere else."

"Great," Caleb said dryly, as he focused on the simple task of breathing.

It seemed to help him while he was under a lot of stress, and this was no different as he felt Allen do a more thorough search of him, grateful that it wasn't the Reynolds who was performing it.

"Alright, excellent," Allen said, once he had been assured of the fact that there wasn't anything else on him that they needed to be worried about. "Now I just need you to answer a few basic questions, okay?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you on drugs?"

"No," Caleb said, shaking his head.

At least that would be something they might feel more inclined to believe. Not that their opinions mattered much to him, but it might make the process go a little bit smoother.

"Are you homicidal?"

"No."

"Are you suicidal?"

"Absolutely not."

"Excellent."


Because of the fact that the jail was fairly quiet in the afternoon, and there weren't any other inmates to process at the moment, he was granted an almost immediate permanent cellblock unit to stay in. That fact did little to ease his fractured soul as he sank down into the hard, cement bed that he had been designated to sleep on, apart from the foam mattress that they gave him.

It was his new reality—one that he didn't deserve—and one that he had no choice but to accept for the time being. As he leaned foreword, putting his head in his hands, he let the tears that he had so bravely held back for so long, come out uninterrupted.

When he had first been arrested, he had been in a state of shock, not entirely believing what was happening to him. It was when he had finished being processed and then assigned to the cell, that it all slammed into him with the power and precision of a hurricane.

He missed Katie.

He missed the peaceful life they had together.

And he missed the promises of a happy future with their children by their side, that had been cruelly taking from him, and from Katie as well.

And now he was sitting in a jail cell, accused of murdering her and causing all of this to happen. It wasn't fair, and though he knew that didn't mean anything to the police who were desperate for answers, it meant something to him (and to their respective family's who knew better).

Sleeping was an absolute impossibility, even though it would have granted him the peace that he had been craving since this nightmare had begun. Tossing and turning on the foam mattress, he drew the thin blanket around himself the best he could as he tried to let his mind wander to someplace peaceful, someplace that didn't have the confusion and the pain and the anger that he was currently feeling. There was no clock in the cell, only adding to the discomfort he was in. It could have been midnight, it could have been six in the morning and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.

Once the first rays of sun did appear through the one, tiny window in the cell, he was relieved. Rolling over on his back, he waited for the guards to come by and allow him to eat breakfast, or to come and get him for his first meeting with whatever PD would be representing him.

Even though he had initially refused Jared's offer of contacting an attorney, he was glad that he had been willing to take his advice, and meet with Dawn Michaels. She had not been to see him yet, but he knew that would only be a matter of time.

When the guards finally did come around to get him, he was relieved, even though he had to put up with the cuffs again, at least he was being granted some momentary freedom before being put back again.

Walking down the hall, he almost asked where they were going, but decided not to bother. His question would be answered soon enough, and then he would be able to get the show on the road.

When they stopped outside a small room, he was glad. It would give him more of a chance to speak with his PD one on one, and not through the impersonal setting of a glass-to-glass meeting like most prisoners had to become accustomed to.

Allowing the guard to lead him over to the seat he would be expected to sit in, he didn't fight it as he calmly waited for the new attorney to show their face.

Scratching something with difficulty on his arm, he waited for the person to show. This person, whoever he or she was, would be his only ticket to freedom, and possibly before a trial or any other proceedings even got started, if they played their cards right.

When the door finally swung open and the guard stepped outside to allow their meeting to be somewhat private, his mouth dropped open in a combination of both shock and fury.

"What the hell are you doing here?"