Page 116 of Conrad

“C’mon, Penelope, let’s go.” Conrad made to shove past Bouchard, but Bouchard stood in the way, got in his face.

And that was just enough. “Bouchard, back off.” He put his arm out to push him aside, and wouldn’t you know it, Missy had jumped beside her husband.

Conrad’s gesture whacked her, not hard, on the arm. She stumbled back.

Screams as Missy hit the bleachers, fell. Landed on the pavement and then howled.

She held her wrist, writhing.

“Missy!” Conrad started for her, but Penelope pulled him back as Bouchard rounded to his wife.

“It was an accident,” Penelope said, glancing at him.

“Call 911,” shouted Steve.

And then everything just started to blur. Conrad’s breath seized, a sweat broke out up his spine, and as Penelope came around to the front of him, backed him into a bleacher to sit down, his vision started to close.

She stood in front of him, her arms on his shoulders, as people started shouting, gathering around Missy, as Simon tried to corral the kids to no avail.

It all became clutter and noise as he held his head in his hands, just Penelope’s voice cutting through. “Breathe, Con. Breathe.”

He spotted EMTs as they came in, and with them, the police. Deputy Jenna Hayes came over, crouched in front of him, asked for a statement. But really, he couldn’t speak watching the EMTs splint Missy’s arm. Steve had leveled a litany of accusations at him, but he’d stopped listening, and then the man had turned to the cops, and who knew what he’d said.

Jenna led Conrad away, through the crowd, Penelope with him, and then said quietly, with a hint of regret, “I need to arrest you for assault, Conrad.”

Oh.

“It’ll be okay,” Penelope said. “I’ll call your lawyer?—”

He looked at her. Shook his head. “You should go. Don’t get tangled up in this.” He reached into his pocket and handed her the keys to his truck. “Please, leave.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opening as she took them.

Then he hung his head as Jenna turned him, cuffed him, and read his rights.

He let her lead him out to her cruiser, still sweating, managing not to lose it as she pushed him into the back seat of the car.

He leaned his head back, listening to his heart beat, his jaw tight. But as Jenna pulled out, he looked out the window.

Penelope stood holding his keys, wearing an expression he couldn’t place. Fierce, maybe even angry.

And behind her, a man, leaning hard on crutches, mid-forties, graying hair, brown eyes, his mouth a grim, tight line.

Joe Johnson.

So yeah, that had been a good idea.

“We’ll get this sorted,” Jenna said as she pulled out. “We just needed to get you out of there before a brawl started.”

“It was an accident.”

“They’re taking statements,” she said. “But you should let your girlfriend call your lawyer.”

His girlfriend.

Yeah, she might wish it were fake, if she wanted to hold on to those social media followers.

“And she should get one for herself, given Steve Bouchard’s accusations about her starting the fight.”

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