The officer wore a look of sympathy. “They had the nurse look at you, right? Before we got there?”
“Yeah,” I told him. “She did. Said it was probably going to hurt more later.”
Great advice.
“I’ll grab you an ice pack. I’d give you some Tylenol, but you’re not eighteen.”
And laws were kind of stupid. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll live. But I would like a Coke, thanks.”
The man frowned. “I could get you a sandwich, or something. You’ve been here a while.” No shit.
“I’d appreciate it. Have you guys reached my mom?”
The officer, I couldn’t remember his name, glanced back at the bullpen behind him, then back at me. “Yeah, she was at work. She said her boss wouldn’t let her leave early twice. But she’ll be here after.”
Right.
I couldn’t blame her. “That’s cool. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be back in a few.” Then he closed the door after him as he left.
Slumping back in the chair, I stared at the ceiling. Mom had to leave for a few hours the week before. She needed her job. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere.
Shame itched at the back of my shoulders. She was going to be pretty fucking disappointed in me. It wasn’t that long before the cop came back.
Gregson. His badge read Gregson. He left the door open, which was nice because the air in here wasn’t that great and it was warm, but the cooler air from the open door helped.
“Coke,” he said setting down a pair of cans. “Sandwiches.” Two plastic boxes—one said turkey and swiss, and the other said chicken salad. “They aren’t fancy. The machine down there doesn’t have great stuff, but it’s edible, and they stock the sandwiches everyday.”
“Not complaining,” I told him. “Thanks.”
The ice pack he set down last. “Just crack that when you’re ready, and it will get cold.”
Instead of leaving though, the guy stood there as I tore open the sandwich container. My stomach had been gnawing on my backbone for hours. I pulled out the first triangle of the turkey and swiss and took a bite of it. Lettuce and mayo didn’t add much more than some texture, but I’d take it.
Folding his arms, the officer—Gregson—studied me.
“Take a picture,” I suggested. “It’ll last longer.”
The older man smiled faintly. “I knew your father.”
Oh. That killed any humor I had, and I took another bite of my sandwich. Bully for him. I knew my dad, too. “He won’t be showing up. He’s still in Germany.”
“Ah,” Gregson said slowly. “Well, I wanted to tell you I put in a word for you.”
I paused. “Why?” Maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I didn’t know this guy.
“Like I said, I know your dad. Go ahead and eat. Soon as your mom gets here, they’ll want to start the questioning. Okay?” Gregson moved back to the door.
“Yep.” I took another bite as he closed it behind him, leaving me alone once more.
Not that there was much to question. I was pretty sure that some of the guys got that fight on video. There was a solid chance Frankie already knew, and I hated it. I hated that she had to find out like that. I hated that she was going through her day, and I wasn’t there. Who the hell was walking her between classes? Arch and Coop couldn’t be everywhere.
What if…?
Suddenly, my appetite faded. If I’d not lost my temper or at least not landed that first punch, I wouldn’t be here right now, I’d be with Frankie. Instead…I popped open the can of Coke and grimaced as it burned the cut inside my mouth when I took a drink. Cracking the ice pack, I shook it until it began to grow frigid and then put it against my bruised face.
It was going to be a long ass day.