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The desk sergeant dialed the number and handed the phone to Tracy. She could hear the phone ringing. And ringing. There was no answer. Charles had to be home.
The desk sergeant said, "Time's up." He started to take the phone from her.
"Please wait!" she cried. But she suddenly remembered that Charles shut off his phone at night so that he would not be disturbed. She listened to the hollow ringing and realized there was no way she could reach him.
The desk sergeant asked, "You through?"
Tracy looked up at him and said dully, "I'm through."
A policeman in shirt-sleeves took Tracy. into a room where she was booked and fingerprinted,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], then led down a corridor and locked in a holding cell,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], by herself.
"You'll have a hearing in the morning," the policeman told her. He walked away,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], leaving her alone.
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But the stinking cot in the cell was real, and the seatless toilet in the corner was real, and the bars were real.
The hours of the night dragged by endlessly. If only I could have reached Charles. She needed him now more than she had ever needed anyone in her life. I should have confided in him in the first place. If I had, none of this would have happened.