A lot of fucking good that did.

“Promise me you won’t put her in the cell. Promise me you’ll keep her comfortable until her parents show up.”

“I promise.”

I look at Rafe, a face I haven’t really looked at in over a year. It reminds me too much of my brother. They ran together with Murph since I was in diapers, and occasionally once I was older, they let me tag along. Now I was all that was left of him, and the pain is too much for either of us to handle, so I turn away and stalk out to the lobby.

When I look back at Sierra, she keeps her eyes trained forward. She won’t look at me, and rightfully so. I am a piece of shit, and I don’t deserve to lick the floor she steps on.

“Get her out of the goddamn cuffs,” I gripe when Rafe meets me in the lobby.

“I will,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder again. Then, he stands between me and her while I walk out the front door. She never looks up, not even once.

20

Sierra

My parents don’t even come to pick me up at the jail. They send a lawyer. The paperwork is minimal, and the nice good-looking cop lets me keep my phone and gives me a cup of coffee while I wait.

I have a feeling he isn’t any happier about my being here than I am.

Before my lawyer shows up, he takes me back to the interrogation room, and his weathered expression tells me that his little visit with Logan took a toll. I don’t know who this man is, but it’s clear he knows Logan. I can only assume it’s due to Logan’s troubled past, but maybe there is more. They look close enough in age, so it’s possible they’re friends.

“You don’t need to talk. You can wait for your lawyer,” he says as he places a paper cup on the table.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

I heard what he said to Logan. My parents will pay the chief of police or mayor or someone, and this will get dropped. I’ll never appear in court or have anything on my record, which makes me more sick than relieved. Logan would have faced a far worse fate for no good reason at all.

“Did you sell drugs on Wickett?”

“No,” I answer bluntly.

“Why were you giving Hale money?”

“Someone I care about owed him money.”

“For what?”

“Drugs,” I answer. He grimaces. This numb confidence has me feeling more tired than scared. I don’t care what he thinks, but if he expects that I’ll drop Logan’s name, he’s crazy.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asks, but the look on his face says that he knows I won’t spill, but it’s worth a try.

“Not a chance.”

He nods his head.

“If it makes any difference, my friend didn’t sell them. They were stolen.”

“Really?” he asks with sudden interest. “You know, if this goes to court, you’ll have to give up some names, or it’ll be you who does the time.”