Page 82 of The Wrong Quarterback

Who the fuck was it?

I threw on a shirt, rubbing my very tired eyes as I made my way to the door. The pounding continued, echoing louder with every step. I swung the door open, prepared to rain hell on whoever was at the door—but my plannedfuck youfaded on my tongue right away. Two officers stood on my front porch, their faces set and serious, the cold gleam of their badges reflecting under the porch light.

One of the officers, the tallest of the duo, stepped forward, his eyes hard and cold. “Parker Davis?”

“Yeah?” I answered, my voice coming out more uncertain than I liked.

“You’re under arrest,” he said in a steady voice, “for grave robbing and desecration of a gravesite.”

Oh shit.

Before I could say a word, the officers moved in, one of them yanking my arms behind my back as the cold metal of the handcuffs bit into my wrists. I barely had time to register what was happening before they dragged me forward, out of the house. My pulse hammered, every instinct screaming at me to fight, to resist, but I forced myself to keep it together.

The night was quiet, traffic on the street non-existent. A twisted kind of relief flickered in me—at least no one was around to see this. But then another realization hit just as hard: my phone was sitting on my bed. I’d walked out without it, never thinking I’d need it.

They shoved me into the back of the squad car, the door slamming shut with a heavy thud. The confined space felt suffocating, the reality of it closing in fast. One of the officers turned around in his seat, his voice steady and impersonal as he started to read my rights.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

The car pulled away from the curb, and we took off.

This was actually happening. How the fuck was I going to get out of this? How long would it take for this to make the news? What was going to happen to my career? Did the Sphinx have some kind of legal counsel for the shit they asked inductees to do? I needed to call Walker or Cole.

Fuck.

Casey’s face appeared in my head. She was going to freak out.

The officer driving looked at me in the rearview mirror, a twisted smile on his face.

“So, you’re the big shot who thought it’d be fun to dig up a dead woman,” he scoffed. “Did you get a thrill out of that, Davis? Pulling open someone’s grave like some sick fuck?”

I kept my expression blank, staring straight ahead, refusing to give them any reaction.

“What were you after, Davis? Some sort of sick trophy? Not getting enough pussy on campus?”

Alright…that was disgusting.

I kept my face impassive, my jaw tight, staring out the window at the blur of city lights, trying to block out their words. They were fishing, desperate to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t giving in.

“What’s the matter?” the cop in the passenger seat taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Big man goes silent when he gets caught, huh? Thought you’d be bragging about it, Davis. Thought you’d be proud of what you did.”

The cuffs bit into my wrists as the officers led me out of the car, dragging me through a backdoor into a nondescript building I assumed was the police station. My brain was reeling. This was a nightmare, a screwed-up, surrealnightmare.

They shoved me into a cold, cramped room, a single light flickering overhead. A table sat in the center of it, two chairs on either side, like something straight out of every cop movie I’d ever seen.

The officers smirked, practically shoving me down into the chair.

One of them leaned in close, a smirk on his face. “Think you’re hot stuff, don’t you, Davis? The golden boy, everyone’s favorite football star?” He chuckled, low and mocking. “You’re nothing but a little punk in cuffs now. Can’t throw a pass to save yourself from this.”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to keep calm, keep cool. If I showed even a hint of nerves, they’d pounce. “I don’t know why I’m here, Officer. This seems like a mistake you’re going to regret,” I said evenly.

Another officer, the one who looked like he was enjoying this way too much, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Grave robbing, Davis. Desecration of a gravesite. You reallythink you’re gonna come out of this one clean? We know you did it, so why don’t you save us all a little time and confess?”

I blinked, keeping my face blank. “I’m just as shocked as you are, gentlemen…” I let out a half-scoff, shaking my head. “Why would I?—”

“Why?” he interrupted, eyes narrowing. “Don’t play dumb, Davis. We know about the Sphinx. We know about the little hazing ritual, and we know that you’re up for induction. All we want is for you to say it.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a low whisper. “Just say it was the Sphinx. You admit to that, and we’ll call it a stupid hazing prank. You can save your precious career, maybe even walk away with nothing but a slap on the wrist.”

I stared straight ahead, letting his words wash over me. They didn’t have proof. If they had evidence, they’d be throwing it in my face by now. All they had was a hunch, rumors. And I didn’t believe for one second that me saying anything would fix this.

---