“I thought you told them you were just there to pick up Will.”

“True. But I can’t see them turning their noses up at a confession.” He looked at Hunter. “Especially if you back me up.”

“Me?”

“I need your help. When the cops ask, just say that it was me. That people get us mixed up all the time.”

“You want me to lie to the cops?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know if they’re even going to buy it. But, yeah, I guess I’m asking you to lie to the cops.”

Hunter was quiet for a moment and then said, “Why the hell not? Will’s the closest thing I had to real family. I know this probably won’t make a difference to him, but it’s something.”

“Thanks, man,” Trip said, standing up. “And one more thing.”

“Besides lying to the police?” Hunter asked sarcastically. “Maybe I could forge something for the FBI?”

Trip ignored him. “Between the lawyer, and the court fines, and everything at the orchard, I don’t know if our parents are going to be able to make up the difference for school. If I come forward, my family is still going to be on the hook if the judge orders a big restitution payment. If there’s anything you—or your dad—can do to help, it could make a big difference.” He knew Will and his parents were all too proud to ask for any favors, either money or influence, from Dominic Finch. But Trip didn’t feel weird about it. What was the point of having rich friends if they couldn’t help you out?

“Lucky Will,” Hunter said. “Everyone looking out for him. Must be nice.”

“Don’t give me that poor little rich boy horseshit,” Trip said, ribbing him. “I could say the same thing about you. Besides, it sounds like you owe him.”

“Think he’ll forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” Trip said, truthfully. “But it’s still the right thing to do.”

“Lying to the cops is the right thing to do?” Hunter asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, but looking out for your friend is.” Trip stood up to leave.

“Okay,” Hunter said. “I’ve got your back. And I’ll talk to my dad. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

At the courthouse, Trip was directed to the second floor. He knew he should have at least called his attorney, but he also knew the attorney wasn’t going to like the way Trip was going about this. He reasoned that he could fill him in afterward. Plus it would mean less hours that they would be billed for.

At the desk a fiftyish lady with dyed-blond hair looked at him over glasses pushed halfway down her nose. She didn’t seem to like what she saw. “Mmmmm?” she said, letting her expression ask the question.