Page 92 of For Emery

Grady

As the nephew of a renowned lawyer, I knew the drill. Let the cops play good cop, bad cop, but say nothing until your lawyer arrived. But I had nothing to hide, so I humored them with brief answers. The moment I mentioned I played football for Alabama, the atmosphere in the interrogation room changed. Both cops started treating me like some over-privileged dickhead who’d purposely beat the shit out of an innocent guy.

“Don’t you find it the least bit ironic this guy would show up on a college campus when security there is so tight?” Bad Cop asked.

I cocked my head. “If it were so tight, how’d he get in?”

They exchanged a pissed-off look.

“You said your girlfriend’s mom was in the hospital?” Good Cop asked.

I huffed, wanting to get the hell outta there to see Emery and make sure she was okay after everything that went down in her room. I looked from one officer to the other. “You can talk to your superiors. They’ve been in constant contact with my parents. And you can talk to campus security. They knew Emery was to be checked in on and they knew there was a warrant out for Wayne’s arrest.”

“We’re trying to figure out how this guy shows up at your girlfriend’s dorm room when—from what you’re telling us—multiple police forces are out looking for him to no avail,” Bad Cop said. “And then, you beat the hell out of him when you’re clearly bigger and he was unarmed.”

“Because the unarmed man broke into my girlfriend’s room and had her cornered. All of this after putting her mother in the hospital. Did you want me to wait for him to pull out a weapon? Maybe sit down and invite him to have dinner with us first?”

Bad Cop slammed his hands down on the table, pushing himself up and leaning into my face. “It’s that smug mouth of yours that’s gonna bring me pleasure to lock you up.”

I shook my head. “I’m tired. And I’m done. My lawyer should be—”

And just like in the movies, my uncle Cal walked in all chill in his charcoal gray suit and green tie. “Don’t say another word,” he ordered.

I nodded.

He glared at the cops. “If what’s been leaked all over the Internet is any indication of how this police department does business, I’ll slap you with so many lawsuits your heads will spin.”

After some angry phone calls to judges and the district attorney, I was released to my uncle. His hope was Wayne’s assault charge against me wouldn’t stick. And if it somehow did, because every citizen—even accused felons—had rights, we’d reach an agreement. He had little doubt that this whole fucked-up situation would blow over and be a thing of the past.

“What about Wayne?” I asked Uncle Cal as his driver drove us to my parents’ house.

“With a million-dollar bail, he’s not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” I said, though it didn’t seem like enough since he kicked ass back there for me.

“Did you really need to knock the guy out? Your mother’s a wreck.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face. “When I saw him in there with Emery, something triggered inside me. I snapped. I wanted him dead.”

“Maybe so, but you can’t verbalize that, especially in front of the police.” Uncle Cal’s phone rang. He checked the screen and looked to me. “I’ve gotta take this.” He lifted it to his ear. “Grady here…” He listened to the caller, his face flushing. “You better tell them we’ll sue them for wrongful suspension. We’ll create a shit-storm so big they’ll be dealing with the aftermath for years.”

“What?” I whispered as he unsnapped the briefcase in his lap and shuffled through the papers inside it.

He waved me off and continued his conversation. “I’ve got the athlete discipline policy right in front of me. I’ve read it from front to back and there’s nothing about an arrest due to self-defense against a wanted man. It’s not our fault inaccurate information was leaked to the press before we could self-disclose.” He listened to the person on the other end before spewing back, “The teams’ PR team needs to do damage control on their end. On our end, he’s innocent of any wrongdoing. If they try to bench him, they better believe we’re appealing it.” He disconnected the call and stewed in the seat beside me. I’d never seen him so fired up. He was known for being calm, cool, and collected. I guess that changed when his nephew was on the chopping block.

“Will I be able to play Saturday against Louisville?”

“I need a minute to process and decide how we’ll proceed.” He held out his opened palm. “Give me your phone.”

“Come on, Uncle Cal.”

He leveled me with his courtroom eyes. “You want nothing out there that could be misconstrued or used against you. And the way you kids post everything, I’m not taking any chances.”

I placed my phone in his hand, knowing he had my best interest in mind. And regardless of the backlash I received in the press or the misinformation being spread about me, I would have attacked that monster again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Emery and her mom from him.

It’s what I should have done a long time ago.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

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