Chapter Eight
Six hours had now passed since they’d landed, six hours that had been stolen from them, time they may have needed to find Chelsea.
Andy took in the bars of the jail, a place he’d never been stuck before, in a holding cell crowded with the kinds of people he’d never expected to be sitting with. In fact, sitting was something he couldn’t do, as the bench was full. Only two of the faces in the jail cell were white, and one of those was his own.
“Hey, I demand my phone call,” he called out when he saw a guard at a nearby cell putting someone else in—Mexican, he thought, or someone of mixed heritage, wearing baggy pants, a person he’d never have given a second look to. The guard just walked away, no response, nothing.
“Can’t you do something?” Andy said, turning to Devon. “You
