The only thing Sevan loves more than hockey is classiccars. He’s put so much love into his black first generation Mustang that it runs like it’s brand new.
“Speaking of which,” Sevan says, nodding toward his desk. “The keys are in the basket over there. Can you take her out for a drive? It’s not good to let a car sit unused, and it makes me twitchy to see her parked for so long.”
I head over to grab the keys and push them into my pocket. “Got it.”
When I glance out the window nearby, I pause.
Red and blue flashing lights are moving down the street.
Weird.
Wait.
Hold the fuck up.
It’s not just a cop car driving by. It’s a cop car pulling up in front of Onyx House.
“What’s up?” Sevan asks.
“Police just arrived in front of Onyx House.”
“Shit.”
“It’s probably nothing. Maybe a noise complaint.”
“Onyx had some brutal shit going on a month ago, though,” Sevan says, frowning. “People were attacked. Probably nothing, but?—”
“I’m going to head over. I’ll be back afterward, ok?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I have pizza coming and a hot date with a video game. Let me know what’s up over at Onyx, though.”
I squeeze his shoulder before I head out. I rush down the stairs in the Double Daggers house and once I’m out the front door, I see a second police car pulling up outside Onyx.
The snowfall picks up by the time I’m walking over, and the little flurries are illuminated by the redand blue light.
At the front door, two officers are talking with Weston, Roman, and Oliver.
“It was just a prank,” Oliver is saying. “I’m so sorry. I, uh… I wasted your time.”
I haven’t heard Ollie act that way since high school.
Fumbling his words awkwardly, clearly trying to apologize for his existence to the police officers.
When Ollie sees me approaching, he looks at me like he wants to crawl into a hole in the ground. I walk over to his side, standing close to him.
I piece together parts of the story from what the guys describe to the police.
Ollie found something on the front doorstep that freaked him out, and it turned out to be a false alarm.
The officers stay for a couple more minutes taking a couple of notes and confirming that Oliver’s okay, but they soon leave as quickly as they came.
After they’re gone, I ignore the other guys and turn to Oliver.
“Tell me everything. Now,” I ask Oliver.
“I was being a paranoid freak. That’s what happened.”
“No, you did the right thing, Ollie,” Weston tells him. “Can’t be too safe after the attacks earlier in the semester.”
