Page 86 of Brazen Criminals

Officer Reed rubs his chin, still giving me his empathetic face. “I’m glad you got the restraining order and have been calling in disturbances. That’s a smart thing to do, Clara.”

I’m waiting to see where he’s taking this, so I nod along. There is no way he called me in to chat just because he’s concerned about me. Cops have huge caseloads, and one college girl with a stalker ex-boyfriend is hardly worth the man hours he’s putting in with me.

“I have some bad news, however.” He leans back, and I can tell he wants to see my face when I hear what he’s going to say next. “Bryce has decided to press assault charges against Archibald.”

Fuck, poor Trips. I reach for the glass of water, taking a sip while I figure out how Clara from last June would act, especially if she thought Trips was innocent. “Why now? Trips was just trying to keep me safe.”

“Well, it looks like that roommate of yours has a history of violence, and Bryce thinks that removing him from the picture will help keep you safe.”

The anger flares up, and I set my glass down with more force than I normally would. “Bryce has no right to be concerned with my wellbeing when he’s the dangerous one.”

Officer Reed throws up his hands. “I’m just letting you know what he said when he came in to file the report. I’m not saying I agree with it.” He sits back and watches me. I take another sip of water, waiting for the rest of this “friendly chat” to get started. This isn’t all of it. There’s more.

He rubs his chin again, leaning forward, trying for the concerned father look. “Do you know about your Trips’ history? He has quite the juvie record. It was, of course, expunged—with his father’s team of lawyers, I’m sure it was a breeze, but just because he doesn’t have to claim those actions, doesn’t mean they never happened. Bryce isn’t the first man Archibald has put in the hospital, and he won’t be the last.” He watches me, waiting for a reaction.

A juvie record? Could that be true? I fiddle with my purse. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Clara, your safety is my job. I want to keep you safe, and as crazy as your ex may be, he’s not wrong about your roommate. Archibald Westerhouse is a dangerous man. He needs to be put away. But I need your help to do it.”

Reed slides the chair closer to me, the eyes of whoever is behind that mirror tickling my skin as I stare down at my purse. I knew there was more. I knew I was going to have to choose a side. I can guess what Trips probably did to that other guy—I saw what he did to Bryce.

Officer Reed isn’t wrong. Trips is dangerous.

But Trips also works so hard to keep it together. And while I don’t know what happened when he was a teenager, according to the guys (who I trust in this), he’s had two outbursts since he came to college, and both had a strong trigger: a woman being assaulted by a man.

The image of him, his clenched jaw and fists, the anger that simmers, the lid barely keeping it from boiling over, idles in my mind. But it competes with his actions, the gift of my pink chairs, the snacks carefully packed in my bag, the fancy coffee refills, they all prove he cares even when he acts like he hates me.

I flash back to his face when he hurt Bryce, blank, devoid of emotion. But then, once the emotions returned, I remember the disgust he had for himself for acting out, how he locked himself away from everyone, keeping us safe. He asked about my arm, even though he was already mostly lost in his own self-recriminations.

Even last night, through his panic, he needed to make sure I was okay, but was too scared of himself to touch me, to offer me the hug I needed, the hug he wanted to give.

Trips is a mess.

He’s a work in progress.

And I honestly don’t believe he belongs in jail.

I look up at Officer Reed, watching me from the other side of the fake sitting room. “I’m sorry. I may not have known Archibald Clarence Westerhouse the Third for long, but he’s a good man. Maybe he’s made mistakes—I wouldn’t know. But from my personal experience, any mistake he’s ever made, he’s worked to fix it. To make amends. No matter the price.”

Something clicks in the cop’s eyes, and my anxiety spikes. I don’t know what I just said, but the cop looks happy—that’s not good.

“You say he always makes amends?”

Shit. He paid for that other guy’s hospital bills. My guys better have worked together and made that donation anonymous enough.

I try to keep my calm, sad Clara from last June facade on, but I’m seriously panicking. Struggling to buy time, my mind reels trying to figure out how to get out of here without looking suspicious. They were already going to book Trips for beating up Bryce. Now I’ve given them a lead that may connect him to that other guy. Fuck fuckity fuck.

Officer Reed pulls his chair closer. He’s not as close as he was when I was filing the restraining order, but he’s getting close to that uncomfortable distance, and it takes all I have not to scramble to the other side of the couch. “Can you give me an example of how he’s made amends?” he asks, watching my reactions like a hawk.

I should have taken some acting classes.

“You know, small stuff. He’ll wake me up super early to drive across campus and be a little rude about it, but he’ll still pack my favorite snacks and take me out for breakfast. Silly things,” I say, knowing that selective honesty is my only chance to get out of here. I just hope to God it will get Trips out of here too.

Officer Reed nods along, but his mind is already jumping further than I would like. Shit shit fuck fuck fuck.

The questions continue, and I realize that we’re biding our time. They don’t want me to leave yet. I try to stay calm, to stay sad and vague, to not mess up again, but I need to get out of here. I have to warn Trips.

After what feels like an eternity, Officer Reed’s partner opens the door and walks in, dipping his chin at Tom, ignoring me completely. Reed stands up with an avuncular grin. “Well, I think that’s it, Ms. McElroy. I’ll give you a call if I have any additional questions.” He opens the door and leads me into the bullpen.

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