He whistles as he opens a manila folder that has a few photos of a very black-and-blue face that’s way beyond swollen. “And boy, did you.”
“What are we looking at here? How long in jail?”
Hal rubs his jawline as he stares at me. “Would this woman be willing to testify?”
“I won’t ask her. It’s a no, Hal. She’s been through enough shit.”
“Understood.” His fingers move a little faster over his skin. “It’s your first offense. Clean record. The judge could be more lenient due to your military service, and I could work with the DA to see if we could get your charges reduced. Maybe six months if we’re lucky.”
That answer hits me like a ton of bricks.
He lifts his hand to his head, straightening his awful combover. The man wouldn’t look half bad if he’d just shave his dome instead of trying to pass it off like he still has hair where he clearly doesn’t. “Maybe four if we get really lucky.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, knowing I did what I did, and if I have to do the time to keep Zoey from having to tell the world about what happened to her, I’ll do it. “Make it happen. Cut a deal.”
“I’ll get your bail posted and get to work on everything, but I’ll make it happen.”
“Work miracles, Hal.”
“I’ll do my best, Oliver. I hate seeing you like this.”
“Shit happens, and I’d do it all over again, given half the chance.”
“Men like him deserve everything they get. Hang tight.”
I lift my hands the three inches I’m able to. “Not going anywhere, Hal.”
He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head. “They’re ridiculous.”
That’s one word for the Chicago PD. They are doing their job, but that doesn’t mean they are on the right side of this. They aren’t, but I could never tell them that. I’ll forever be the bad guy, and my spotless record no longer exists. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t like my job depends on any of that shit. I own my own business, and if I have an arrest, it’s not like I am going to fire myself.
Time ticks by slower than it ever has in my entire life. Minutes feel like hours, and hours feel like days. I wait and wait some more for someone to get me out of here, and right when I am about to give up hope, the door to the interview room opens again.
“Bail’s been posted,” Officer Williams says as he walks in, holding a set of keys in his hand. “But I have a feeling we’ll be talking again soon.”
“Doubtful,” I mumble as he unlocks the cuffs, and I immediately rub my wrists, relishing the feeling of their freedom.
I follow Officer Williams out of the room, down a long and depressing hallway to the front of the station. Hal is waiting in a plastic chair, holding the same folder that has the pictures of Mark’s face and what I did to it.
“Ready?” he asks as he rises to his feet.
“Yep.”
“Need to get anything?” he asks, glancing toward the police officer at the desk.
“Got nothing,” I tell him because I left everything, including my phone and wallet, back at the garage. No point in bringing anything with me when I knew they’d take it away once we got here.
“Your brother’s outside waiting for you.”
“Great,” I grumble, knowing my shitty day isn’t going to get better any time soon.
“He’s in a surprisingly good mood,” Hal says to me as he pushes open the door to the police station and sunlight streams into the small corridor.
“He’s enjoying my arrest.”
Hal chuckles. “Something like that.”
“Brother,” Liam says, pushing his entire body off the tow truck parked right outside the station and in a no-parking fire zone. Dummy. “Welcome to freedom.”
