Sky's the Limit
Copyright© 2026 by aroslav
Chapter 11: Arresting Development
WHEN I GOT HOME Wednesday evening, Pearl and Ruby were waiting for me to continue reading To Have and To Kill. It was all I could do to keep from blurting out “I wrote that!” when they got excited about a passage.
“How does she manage to maintain both the romance and the mystery at the same time. I want to jump in bed with Dorian, even though I’m sure he’d kill me. He’s just so sexy!” Ruby exclaimed at one point.
“Are you sure the author is female?” Pearl asked.
“Could a man write what’s inside women so well?” Ruby responded.
“But for a woman, she knows men better than most men do. I’m not sure if I’m going to marry a man or a woman!” Pearl said.
Marry? Oh yes! Me, me, me! Still, I couldn’t say anything. How could I tell them I wrote the romance for Pearl and the mystery for Ruby?
We finished the manuscript about midnight and sought out Pat and Marge.
“What did you think, Mom?” Pearl asked excitedly.
“I think we’re going to publish this manuscript, whether it wins the contest or not!” she said.
“I agree,” Pat said. “Get a contract ready. This is the best thing I’ve seen come through our company in years. She must be near our age to have this much world experience. We need to lock down her next book at the same time. I need to decide how much of an advance we can afford to give her. It’s definitely six figures.”
“We can probably get her for less when she finds out she gets to marry me as part of the deal!” Pearl said.
“IF!” Ruby shouted. “You can marry her if she’s a she. If it turns out that she’s a he, I get to marry him.”
“Well, I was going to offer to share regardless,” Pearl laughed. “That will lock her in at a lower price when she discovers she gets both of us.”
Oh, hell, yes. If I could have both girls, they could publish the book with no advance at all.
By morning, our community forum had exploded with the news of the rescue of Matthew two nights before. Of course, no one knew who the guy was who was being attacked in the video. I, however, was quickly identified. By that time, I’d sent the pictures of the thugs and the report of what happened to the State Police. I figured they were from either LA or San Diego and had escaped back there—possibly before they even stopped for medical attention. They should be pretty easy for the police to track down.
Like most tightknit communities in the country, La Alegria had its own social network. It started with a Facebook page on which we’d post significant events and issues. Then it expanded to a forum on the city website. In addition, there were independent sites. The Waterfront Business Association had a forum and the Waterfront Community had a forum hosted by the association. The video had been posted and reposted on all the sites in the past twenty-four hours.
The store was hopping Thursday morning. Denise was serving espresso as fast as she could pull the shots. Ruby came downstairs to give her a hand as we had Jeremy, our intern, at the cash register. I was tied down by one person after another wanting to thank me for establishing a positive presence on the Boardwalk.
“Sky Morris?” a voice called from the doorway, loud enough to quiet the entire store. I looked up to see two local police officers at the door.
“I’m over here,” I said, waving a hand.
I figured they must want a statement regarding the rescue on the Boardwalk. It was about time. We’d reported the incident Tuesday night and it took them until Thursday morning to show up and investigate. They walked toward me warily as the crowd parted. One officer stayed behind the other with a hand on his service weapon.
“Sky Morris, you are under arrest for assault on the boardwalk Tuesday night,” the leading officer said. “Any resistance will be met with lethal force.”
That was an interesting thing to say next. No reading rights? He reached me and snapped handcuffs on my wrists.
“Hey! You’ve got that all wrong! Sky stopped the assault,” one of the people in the store yelled.
“He’s the hero, not the perp!” another yelled.
“Set him free!” somebody called and it soon became a chant. I saw numerous phones out, recording what was going on.
“Put away those phones! You’ll all be arrested for obstructing police!” the backup officer shouted.
It didn’t stop the protest. I was shoved through the crowd at the door and toward the squad car that was parked up on the sidewalk outside our door. The outdoor display had been knocked over when they arrived. They pushed me into the car, not protecting my head at all. The door slammed shut and the siren wailed as we pulled away.
What a clusterfuck. They couldn’t be bothered to come to the boardwalk after dark to arrest the thugs, but in broad daylight they’d arrest a businessman for defending a pedestrian.
They drove into an underground police parking lot at the courthouse, which also housed the county jail. I was pulled out of the squad car, cracking my head on the door again, and into an elevator that opened onto an interior holding area of the city police headquarters. I was unceremoniously shoved into a room with a metal table and chair where I was cuffed to the table and the chair legs. Still no conversation. No request for ID. No reading my rights. No lawyer.
I just sat there and waited.
I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the clock when the two cops arrived at the store. It was sometime after ten, but it could have been any time before ten-thirty. I sat alone in that room for a long time. It felt like longer and longer as my bladder started to dictate my mood. No one had spoken to me since I got to the station. Nor had they arrested me on a suspicion, according to the way the officer stated it. He said I was arrested for assault. But no one had been in to even fill out an intake form or to read me my rights. I kept trying to keep myself calm, but the mounting pressure on my bladder from three cups of coffee that morning was making me very uncomfortable.
“Hey! I need a bathroom!” I yelled.
No response. I counted to a hundred and repeated my yell. No response. Count again.
“Last chance! I need a bathroom or I piss where I’m sitting.”
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