Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
The cop rapped his pen against his notebook and asked, “Am I boring you, Knox?”
Jeremy was saved from answering when his phone went off again, this time with an actual phone call. The eerie, wailing tone was one reserved for his family. He hesitated, weighed the consequences of sending it to voicemail, and reached for his phone. The bold WILSHIRE flashing on the screen did nothing to help his mood, but Jeremy turned the phone so the cop could see. The cop huffed a little but collected his notebook and left the room at last. Jeremy waited for him to disappear through the doorway before answering on speaker.
“Hey, I’m driving,” he lied. The cop had had him pull a chair up to White’s desk at the front of the room, but now Jeremy turned so he could finally see Cat and Laila. They’d claimed seats in the front row and were watching him intently. “Can you make it quick?”
“Your mother has been trying to reach you,” his stepfather said, with a tone Jeremy had wearied of years ago. Across from him, Laila gave the phone a look that should have melted its circuits. “Stop avoiding her; you’re making her worry.”
And who told her there was something to worry about? Jeremy wanted to ask, but he knew how that argument would end. Warren Wilshire had two brothers in the LAPD, a detective and a deputy chief, and a recumbent father in Congress. Jeremy would never be a Wilshire, had refused the name every time his mother suggested taking it, but people knew who to call if Jeremy’s name popped up anywhere. He’d tested it his junior year in high school, collecting speeding tickets just to watch Warren get them quietly removed, and had been made to sorely regret that little rebellion.
Idly he wondered who the police had called first when their system popped up a potential connection between Grayson and the USC Trojans: Warren or Coach Rhemann.
“It’s been a bit hectic here, as I’m sure Milton already told you,” Jeremy said. He’d seen his step-uncle only in passing when they first arrived back at the stadium, as Milton was part of the crew currently bullying Jean in the next huddle room. “I’ll call her when I can.”
“That chance has passed,” Warren said. “You’re coming home for dinner so we can discuss this.”
Jeremy smiled to keep his tone light when he said, “I can’t promise that. The police might have more questions for us, and as team captain I need to be where my teammates can reach me. Leaving campus would be a mistake.”
“Captain,” Warren echoed. He’d forgotten; Jeremy could hear it in his voice.
That was Cat’s last straw. She cupped a hand over her mouth and said, “Welcome to Jackie’s, can I take your order?”
“Who was that?” Warren demanded.
Jeremy aimed a cheery “One sec, please!” off to the side before moving his phone closer to his face. “I told you I was driving. Laila and I are grabbing lunch to take back to the stadium for everyone. I need to let you go, okay? I’ll call Mom as soon as I have a minute.” Warren immediately started arguing, but Jeremy said, “Hi, yeah, we’ll have—” and hung up.
He set his phone down on the desk with more force than intended and looked toward the doorway again. He wanted the police out of his stadium. He wanted Jean away from their pointed, barbed questions. What more could they possibly want to know? How unkind could they be after what Jean suffered yesterday?
Last night Grayson slammed Jean into the unyielding walls of the Gold Court and bit his throat to bleeding. Less than twenty-four hours later he was dead. The police had given up very few details, including where he’d been found and how he’d died. All Jeremy could parse from their repeated, antagonistic questions was he’d passed away in the middle of the night. Hopefully they’d been more gracious with Lucas, who’d been taken to the station with Coach Jimenez, but Jeremy had little faith in their humanity.
Thoughts of Lucas made Jeremy’s heart ache. “I should talk to Lucas.”
“You absolutely will not,” Laila warned him. “Leave him to Cody or Xavier.”
“They don’t—” Jeremy started, but a sudden ruckus down the hall distracted him.
Jeremy got up so fast he sent his chair flying. From the doorway he watched Rhemann escort the police down the hall toward the exit. Jeremy didn’t see Jean with them, though there was a chance he was ahead of the group. Jeremy hurried to the next huddle room with Cat and Laila on his heels. The vise around his heart eased a bit when he saw Jean sitting alone in the front row, and he took a seat at Jean’s side. Cat stole the chair on his other side, leaving Laila to plant herself in front of him.