CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
(part one)
Wednesday evening

Aden spent most of the day waiting.  After the hearing, he had waited in a holding cell at the courthouse. It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t even all unexpected. He’d simply forgotten what it was like. He’d started the day as a President of a large construction company. Everything he said or did was important.

Now, his time no longer mattered. What he thought no longer mattered. What he said or did no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered was his compliance and the passage of time. Some hours later, he was taken to the main Denver Police station.

The policemen who processed him couldn’t have been more polite. Oddly, Aden was a bit of a celebrity. Everyone knew he was the guy who beat up the pedophile and embarrassed the DA. They didn’t make him change or do anything humiliating. Instead, they put him in another large holding cell. A tall Hispanic policeman told him that the DA wanted him moved to DRDC, the diagnostic center, right away. People can wait months to get into DRDC, but Aden would go today.

“Out of sight, out of the voter’s mind,” the police officer had laughed.

The other prisoners gave him wide berth. For the first time in a more than a decade, his senses were inundated with the scent of unwashed human bodies, alcohol detoxing through pores, industrial cleaners, filth, and despair.

How had he ever been used to this life?

Why had this been so normal for him?

He tucked his emotions away. He would have time enough to think about them later. Instead he tracked time against his old life. He always called Sandy at twelve-thirty on her lunch break. His heart squeezed with panic around three. He’d forgotten to pick up Noelle from school. With a sigh, he realized he wouldn’t pick her up today or any of the next ninety days. Nash usually went to soccer practice at six o’clock.

What had been his regular, boring, uneventful routine only a week ago seemed like a dream right now.

As he waited, his mind jumped from one vague worry to the next: what would happen to his car? Would Sandy dump him? He would dump him. How stupid could he possibly be? He was the dumbest man in the world. Why had he given his Blackberry to Samantha? He could work now. Would his kids survive the next months? Why hadn’t he prepared for this? God, poor Sandy was going to have to deal with all his crap. And on and on.

Under the cover of darkness, they were escorting him to DRDC. Once there, they took the Tag Hauer watch he’d bought when Jake had offered him a job. They took his sobriety ring, his wallet, his keys, the gold chain bracelet Sandy gave him for Christmas, and every other symbol of his former life. They stripped him down, made him shower and redress into an orange prisoner jumpsuit. They gave him a blanket then escorted him to a cell.

No one was happy to see him. No one made jokes. It was all business, all prison. He was just another one of the livestock housed in this barn.

The guard opened the cell and he stepped inside. He barely had time to clear the gate when the door clanged closed. The lock made an ominous ‘click’ when it closed. Aden stood at the bars staring out into the prison.

“It’s hard to get used to at first,” a man’s voice came from behind him. “But you’ll do fine.”

Aden turned around to see who spoke to him. A man stood from a bunk on the right side of the room. Aden blinked. That’s Molly’s husband. Jacob’s bookkeeper Molly’s husband. Pete.

“Pete?” Aden asked.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow….