Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“You’re Casey fucking Tresscott, and you’re goddamn incredible.”
CHAPTER 47
FENN
“YOU’LL SEE, THIS IS GOING TO WORK ITSELF OUT,” DAD INSISTS AS he unpacks the paper bag of breakfast sandwiches he picked up from a café in town on the way to Sandover.
I grab a coffee and take a seat on the sofa.
“I’m not letting them throw you in jail for saving a girl from drowning. That’s nonsense.”
“It’s not the rescuing part they charged me with,” I remind him.
Dad gives me an admonishing glance. Incredibly, he’s not yet come around to having a grim sense of humor about the whole thing. And while I appreciate his attempts to reassure me, I’m less optimistic about my fate.
“If that police department had done their damn jobs last year, we wouldn’t be in this position. I’m not about to let them string my son up because they still haven’t caught the real criminal. For that matter, the security at Ballard failed abysmally. Drugs on campus. Students wandering off. There’s enough culpability to go around. You’re the least of their problems, Fenn.”
Maybe it’s the sheer number of charges I hadn’t considered that has me spooked. Or the way the thoroughly embarrassed police chief snarled and glared at me over his shoulder as he stood at the end of the hall getting the brief from his intake officer after I announced why I’d dragged myself into their lobby.
“Egg or no egg?” Dad asks RJ as he reads the scribble on the sandwich wrappers.
“No egg. Thanks.”
RJ grabs a sandwich and a coffee and keeps a cautious distance as he eats at his desk. I think he’s still worried that if I end up behind bars, he’ll get saddled with the guilt trip. Ultimately, it was his digging around that precipitated my sudden eruption of conscience.
I’ve tried to tell him he’s in the clear, but I suppose when all the facts become known, he’s worried David might not see things the same way. If I have any say in it, RJ has nothing to worry about.
“I don’t think it’s up to us,” I tell Dad, who’s getting himself all spun up again.
“We’ll see,” Dad says, accepting the challenge.
Much as my appetite has evaporated over the last few hours, I shove some food in me anyway. It helps settle the nerves. A little.
I’m slugging back the rest of my coffee when Dad’s phone rings. He yanks it out of his pocket, muttering, “Finally.” Then he barks, “What’s the latest, John?”
He strides away, pacing with the phone to his ear and his eyes on the floor. He nods a lot, which doesn’t feel like a terrible sign.
“Yeah?” His head snaps up. “You’re certain?”
My father’s attention falls on me, but I can’t decipher his expression.
“All right. We’ll circle back this evening, then.” He pockets the phone, a strange smile on his face as he turns toward us. “That was the lawyer. You’re off the hook.”
RJ’s chair creaks as he rocks forward. “Wait, what?”
“Seriously?” I nearly choke trying to swallow. “How?”
“They dropped the charges. John still isn’t clear as to why. He hadn’t even gotten the DA on the phone yet.”
“So that’s it?” RJ asks, echoing my own confusion. “Fenn’s in the clear?”
“Appears so. John’s going to see what else he can find out, but it looks like we got lucky this time. Clearly, they came to their senses and realized there was no benefit in demonizing a good Samaritan for their own failures.”
Call me a pessimist, but I have a hard time believing the police woke up this morning deciding to be nice guys. In my experience, that’s not their standard operating procedure. RJ and I exchange a look across the room. If this year has taught us anything, it’s to wait for the other shoe that’s undoubtedly about to drop.
Nothing is this easy.
“Okay, then.” Dad shakes his head, looking pleased. “I’ll head back to the hotel and check out.” He pauses, giving me an uncertain smile. “Unless you’d like me to stick around a while? Make sure everything’s settled?”
“Huh? No, get out of here. You’re cramping our style,” I say with a grin.
“Or you can come home for a few days. Get your mind off things. I can tell the headmaster there’s a family matter. Both of you,” he adds to RJ.
“It’s fine,” I insist. “I’m good here.”
“Same,” RJ pipes up. “Just don’t make me go to class. I thought this waiting-for-the-lawyer-to-call vigil was going to last all day. I mentally prepared myself for it, therefore I shouldn’t be forced to attend classes.”
I waggle my eyebrows at my dad. “If RJ leaves now, he could make it for second period…”
“Fuck off,” my stepbrother grouses, throwing his empty wrapper at me.
I catch it easily. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re not suspended.”
“Not something to brag about, Fennelly,” Dad scolds, but his lips are twitching with humor. “All right. I’m heading out.”