The Clerk
Copyright© 2026 by R. E. Bounds
Chapter 17: Make Sure She’s Okay
“Why is my sister all chained up like that?!”
It was Fawna. She had just arrived—and she was furious.
She was looking at the three of us, but mostly at her sister, who was sitting on the other side of Susan.
“She was found this way during the arrest,” the deputy explained, trying to keep his voice even. “We’re just waiting to verify there aren’t any warrants out for her. It’s standard procedure. Once we confirm that, we’ll get her out of those.”
He gestured toward a pair of bolt cutters on the desk.
“Warrants?!” she exclaimed. “There aren’t any warrants out for my sister! She doesn’t even speed—she says she doesn’t want her car to feel bad about breaking the law.”
I smiled to myself, realizing that quirkiness is just her. At first, I thought she was doing it for attention, but it’s not an act—it’s simply who she is.
“And what do you mean, you found her like this? What does that even mean?” Fawna demanded, glaring at all of us—but mostly at her sister. “Do ... do you have cuffs on her thumbs? And what the fuck is that around her neck?”
The deputy leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen lightly against the desk. He looked unhappy, but he didn’t take the bait. I think he knew she was just upset—shaken by what she was seeing, not understanding it. Then again, I wasn’t sure he understood it either.
“Miss ... again, we found her that way,” he said calmly.
“And it appears to be a collar,” he added, lifting his eyebrows slightly as he looked at her. “You’ll have to ask her about that.”
He nodded toward Bambi. “Once we confirm she has no outstanding warrants, she’ll be released into your custody.”
Fawna opened her mouth to fire back, but the moment was interrupted when the door opened and Sophie walked in. She scanned the room, her gaze steady, and started toward us.
The deputy froze. His face went pale. Then he shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled backward.
“S–Sophie,” he stammered, pointing at her. “You can’t ... you can’t walk over there.”
She didn’t even look at him. She just raised one finger—calm, deliberate.
“Do you want Sherrie to find out about your late shifts at O’Malley’s?” she asked quietly.
The deputy’s jaw tightened. His hand dropped from his belt. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking, his eyes darting like a trapped animal’s. Then he turned toward Fawna.
“I—I need you to sit down,” he said quickly, his voice smaller now as he pointed to the bench against the wall near the doors.
He backed away, almost tripping over his chair, then disappeared into an office. Not a minute later, he returned—with the sheriff.
“Soph,” he said quietly. “You...”
He sighed, shoulders sinking. “Why are you here? This has nothing to do with you.”
“They’re my friends.” She looked at him with no expression—none. Just that calm, unnerving coldness. “So, it has everything to do with me.”
He tried to hold her gaze, but the attempt didn’t last long. Whatever history they shared, whatever power she carried in that moment, it made both men uneasy. The deputy especially—he seemed almost afraid of her.
“I was told you arrested Anne, Steve,” she said, her tone flat, pointed. “Why?!”
Sheriff Collins closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face before pointing toward his office. Without a word, she brushed past him and walked inside. He followed, head lowered, shutting the door behind them.
It didn’t matter—we could hear everything, mostly Sophie. Through the open blinds, the sheriff’s reactions were clear.
“Menacing. Intimidation. Threats,” Sophie repeated, each word cautious. “What?!”
Sheriff Collins shifted uncomfortably. “Those are the charges. She ... made threats, gestures, actions that could reasonably frighten someone. It’s standard procedure.”
“Actions that could frighten someone?” Sophie echoed slowly. Her tone was flat, but her weight made even the sheriff stiffen.
“So, you’re saying she scared someone? That’s your legal justification?”
“Yes,” Collins admitted, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Two girls lodged complaints. If a reasonable person feels threatened—even without contact—it qualifies. Menacing, assault ... gray area, but covered by law.”
“And you think that justifies chaining her up?”
“She’s cuffed. Standard procedure, Soph,” he said. “Especially for someone who’s made threats.”
“You have her cuffed to the bench,” she fired back.
“Soph...” He raised his eyebrows. “She threatened people. We’re actually taking it easy on her.”
“When we take her to the courthouse to see the judge,” he added, “she’ll have to be in full transport restraints.”
Great. I thought to myself. That’s just great.
“The others, we found them the way you saw them,” he continued. “We know about the sister. The other girl...”
He let out a sigh.
“Don’t know what’s going on there,” he admitted, sighing again. “We confirmed she wasn’t being held against her will. She indicated it was voluntary.”
Then he looked through the window at us. “We’re just confirming there are no outstanding warrants for her. Once that’s clear, she’ll be released to her sister.”
“I can’t believe this,” Sophie said.
“Soph,” he told her, “this could be a lot worse.”
“The deputies found those two girls in those restraints,” he continued, looking at her. “People call this station. They call about the sister.”
Leaning over, he said, “They call about Bounds.”
A sigh escaped him. “I understand—Bounds is a different matter, and the sister out there isn’t involved in any kind of federal issue.”
His eyes met hers. “But I think I’ve been understanding.”
Nodding, he added, “We answer the calls. Tell them everything’s okay. And don’t comment any further.”
Looking at her again, he continued, “Bounds could be sitting in a cell, and that young girl out there ... charged with disorderly conduct ... creating a public nuisance...”
He paused, letting it sink in. “I can continue.”
“So, what happens now?” she asked.
“Charges are being filed,” he said. “She’ll stay here until transport to the courthouse, where she’ll appear before the judge ... likely sometime tomorrow.”
“Did you ask her?” Sophie pressed. “Did you get her side of the story?”
The sheriff sighed. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” she asked. “This is obviously a misunderstanding.”
He leaned back, giving a sympathetic, but drained look.
“I didn’t want to. My family has done enough to theirs,” he said, nodding. “I know they can’t afford an attorney. And the one the court will appoint for her ... well...”
He glanced at Sophie, not finishing the sentence.
“So, the less they say to me, the better,” he continued, raising his eyebrows. “I hate this as much as you do.”
“I’ve had run-ins with the Claires in the past. And I know those girls sitting out there shouldn’t be in here right now,” he added with a sigh. “But I have to follow the law.”
I looked down, guilt twisting in my stomach. He was right—I had threatened them. I’d been so upset after years of dealing with Megan and the others, and with Bambi there, I ... I’d lost control. It wasn’t physical; I only said I’d go to the authorities with the information I had. And I should have known better.
“So, she’s said nothing to you?” Sophie asked.
“Nothing,” he confirmed. “All three have been silent.”
He gave her that half-smile, half-sigh look, his eyebrow raised, as if she already knew what he was thinking.
Sophie pulled out her phone and stepped into the corner, head down.
The deputy glanced at his computer, then grabbed the bolt cutters and walked over to us.
“Miss Harper,” he told Bambi, “if you can stand...”
She shuffled forward and pushed herself up. I could see she was still sore. She winced as she got to her feet.
“You don’t need to cut the lock,” I said. “The keys are in my purse.”
I nodded toward it. Susan had grabbed it when we were taken, and I kept an extra set just in case.
He checked the side pocket, grabbed the key ring, and unlocked the restraints quickly. Then he pointed to Fawna.
“You’re free to go.”
Bambi looked unsure.
“Doe,” Fawna said, now standing, having walked back over to the deputy’s desk.
“Doe!” she repeated.
“I ... I have to go,” Bambi said, sounding apologetic and hurt.
Fawna stepped forward, looking beyond upset.
“Let’s go,” she said, grabbing her arm.
“If you go by the bookstore,” I told her, “I’ll have someone meet you there. They’ll let you in to get the key for the collar.”
“Wait! You don’t have the key?!” Fawna snapped, glaring at Bambi and then turning her anger toward me.
“You put my sister in a fucking collar and you don’t have keys?!”
“Faw,” Bambi started, “this isn’t her fault—”
“You’re in a collar!” Fawna cut her off, her voice rising. “And what are you even wearing...? You’re in pantyhose?”
“I can’t believe this. You’ve done a lot of messed-up things ... but this?” she continued. “When Dad finds out—”
“No,” Bambi said, shaking her head.
“Stay ... away ... from my sister!” Fawna pointed at both Susan and me. “You fucking freaks.”
She grabbed Bambi’s arm and pulled her along. Bambi waved to me as she turned and walked beside her sister.
Fawna’s eyes narrowed as they landed on her heels, the metal tips striking the marble floor with each step. “Even Katherine doesn’t wear heels that high for Dad...”
She tried to lower her voice, but it drifted toward us. “And she’s in fuck-me’s for him every day.”
After they were gone, I looked up at the deputy.
“Can I call someone to meet them at the store?” I asked quietly, doing my best to hold back the tears.
“I’m not uncuffing you,” the deputy said.
“Just give the phone to my sister,” I said, taking a breath. “She can make the call. It’s in my purse.”
He reached down, retrieved the phone, and put it in Susan’s hands. She called Andrew. Some stores kept spare keys for emergencies, and we trusted Andrew—his dad had exchanged keys with our aunt years ago.
He sounded panicked, but said he’d, of course, do it and would come to the station as soon as he could.
As Susan hung up and the deputy took the phone from her, Sophie walked up to us.
“Don’t say anything,” she told us. “I’ve called someone to get this straightened out.”
We nodded.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, looking at us—but mostly at me.
I lost track of time after that, most of it spent thinking. Susan and I didn’t talk. I think we were afraid to say anything with the deputy just sitting there, ten feet away. So, I sat, thinking about everything. And Bambi.
Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t work. I ... I thought this morning, when I was in the shower, that for a few minutes it might. I pretended it was all real.
But looking at it now, none of it made sense. It didn’t.
What happened last night was ... beautiful. But it was nothing more than some young, impressionable college girl wanting to experiment. I’d be nothing but a story she’d tell her husband, wife someday—one of her conquests.
I sighed. Things never quite turned out the way I wanted them to. Something always happens. Always. That’s just how things went with me. With Susan and me.
As I sat there, lost in thought, a man entered the station. He was older, wearing a suit, unassuming—the kind of guy you wouldn’t notice on the street. Yet there was a quiet confidence about him.
He walked up to the deputy.
“I’m Anne Vail’s attorney,” he said.
The deputy nodded toward us.
“Miss Vail?” the man asked, looking between us.
“That’s me,” I said, startled.
“Sophie called me,” he continued. “I’m here to help get this straightened out.”
“Have you said anything to the officers?” he asked. “Any statements given?”
“No,” I replied.
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Keep it that way. Don’t speak to them until I tell you to. Do you understand?”
I nodded. He glanced around, spotted Sophie waving to him from the sheriff’s office, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
They talked for a while. The man—well, I guess my attorney—spoke in a calm, measured tone I couldn’t quite make out. Sophie sat beside him, serious, saying almost nothing. He did most of the talking. The sheriff cut in now and then, but even he didn’t look happy about any of it.
After a time, they all came out and walked over to us.
“Miss Vail,” my attorney said evenly, “we’re going to speak privately.”
He adjusted his tie, then added, “After that, I’ll determine whether it’s appropriate for you to sit down with the sheriff and provide a statement.”
I nodded.
The deputy hesitated, glancing at Sophie.
“She stays cuffed,” he said.
My attorney turned toward him, calm but firm. “Deputy, I’m entitled to confer with my client privately and confidentially,” he said. “If you need to maintain restraints for safety, that’s your call—but the conversation will take place behind closed doors.”
The two locked eyes for a moment before the deputy exhaled, muttering under his breath.
“Fine.”
“Hermie,” Sheriff Collins said, looking at the deputy, “do as Mr. Sims asks. Just secure Miss Vail to the table.”
The deputy unlatched the leg cuffs that tethered the cuffs behind my back to the bench. Metal scraped softly as he worked.
“On your feet,” he said.
He took hold of my arm—firm, not rough—and helped me stand, the heels throwing off my balance on the concrete floor.
Keeping his grip just above my elbow, he led me down a short hallway into a side interview room. The air in there was colder, quieter, the hum of the overhead light sharp in my ears.
Without a word, he unlocked one wrist, then threaded the loose cuff through a steel ring bolted to the tabletop and secured it again. I sat, the chain short enough that my hands rested in front of me, fixed to the metal.
Then he knelt beside me with the leg cuffs—the same ones that had chained me to the bench—and fastened them around my ankles. He ran the connecting chain through another ring anchored to the floor before snapping them closed.
“She’s in heels—the leg restraints are for safety,” he said flatly to my attorney. “Standard procedure.”
My attorney gave a small nod. “Understood,” he said evenly.
The deputy tugged once on each restraint, then straightened. He paused at the door.
“I’ll be right outside,” he said. “Knock when you’re done. But try to keep it under a half hour.”
“My client and Ms.—Susan, is it?—were both brought in,” my attorney said evenly. “The sheriff informed me she hasn’t been charged with anything. If she’s not being detained, I’d like her restraints removed, please.”
The deputy’s expression tightened.
“Sounds like you’ve got plenty to discuss with your attorney,” he said, looking at me. Then he turned and stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.
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