“Well?” Wick asks.
“Griff? Wick?” Our teacher, Mrs. Harding, appears to my left, Shane Hallowell right behind her. No doubt they’re both on their way to World History. Wick and I should be too.
“Hey, Wick. Hey, Griff.” Shane waves, looking pitiful. Actually, Shane always looks pitiful. I think it’s a permanent setting.
“I’ve been looking for you, Griff,” Mrs. Harding says. She’s close enough to get a good whiff of Wick, and her eyes start to water. “You need to come with me. They’ve asked to see you in the front office.”
The front office? I freeze. Did something happen to my mom? I can feel Wick’s eyes on me, but I don’t trust myself to look at her. I’m still processing. Bottom line . . . I have to work with Carson. Everything she just told me? It’s exactly what he wants. I have to give it to him.
I shake myself. “Sure, Mrs. Harding.”
Our teacher nods, turning her attention to Wick. “You’re going to be late, Wicket.”
“Right. On my way.” Only she isn’t. Wick’s pasted to the spot, staring at me, waiting. This is where I need to reassure her and I . . . can’t.
I walk off, making it to the front office just as a dark-haired woman’s pushing through the double doors, heading toward the parking lot. My heart double-thumps.
“Mo—” It’s not. I slow down, stop.
“Hello, Griff.” Carson’s voice is syrupy again. All the hairs on my arms stand straight. “Sorry to pull you out of school like this.”
No, you’re not. I turn. “Is something wrong?”
The detective’s slumped against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. “Could be. Your mom had a bit of an accident. She’s fine, but, well, there might be some charges.”
Briefly, my head goes fuzzy, like I’m floating. Then I drop back into myself. Hard. “What kind of charges?”
“Drunk-and-disorderly mostly. Her friend was driving, so he’ll bear the brunt of it. You know how these things go.” Carson pushes away from the wall and pans his hands to either side, palms toward the ceiling. He’s grinning like he couldn’t stop if he tried. “No telling what else we might find in her car. It was impounded, so the officers will have plenty of time to look it over. Think we’ll find anything you should be worried about?”
No idea. “Of course not.”
“Good. That’s good. Fine will definitely be steep to get it out though.”
I stay still, watching him.
Carson scratches behind his ear. “Reminded me that I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Thought maybe I could help you out. You’re a nice kid, Griff. You don’t deserve any of this, so I thought you’d want to do your interview now. I’ll take you to the station—unless you want to do it here.”
I swallow. “Great. Let’s go.”
The detective’s eyes go so bright it makes my stomach queasy. What the hell am I going to say? Do I give him everything?
Nothing?
Wick’s terrified face is all I can see. She’s deep into this, a walking target now. By not asking anyone for help or protection . . . Christ, this is bad. Why would she even tell me?
I sit up straight even as my stomach sinks. Holy shit. She told me because she trusts me. Out of all the people in the world, she trusts me. Actually, no, that’s wrong. It’s not out of all the people in the world. It’s out of the few people in her world. She trusts me and I don’t know what to do with that. The gift seems too big.
Especially for someone who would get paid for betraying her.
I follow Carson to the unmarked sedan parked by the front curb. He opens the door for me like I’m a chick, and from the corner of my eye, I think I see a flash of red. I don’t turn. I can’t risk it. I get into the car and Carson drives us away.
We get to the station just as Ben is coming off shift. My cousin’s head jerks higher when he sees us walking through the parking lot. He speeds up, ever eager to catch Carson.
“Hey, so this must mean good progress, yeah?” Ben asks, eyes bouncing between the detective and me.
“Did you need something, Officer?” Carson’s fingers stab into my upper arm as we sidestep Ben. I throw him off. He’s not going to march me into the station like I’m under arrest. “Don’t you have reports to finish?”
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Ben sounds so deflated I want to turn around and punch him. Does no one see how this guy acts? How can they all believe his front?
Carson yanks open one of the glass doors and motions me through. We pass the front desk and weave through the bull pen, all the surrounding officers stopping whatever they’re doing to say hello to Carson.