Page 100 of Injustice and Absolution

My phone lies still on the surface of my desk, but I check it anyway, giving in to a compulsion I’ve never had before. When, still, there is no word from Hound, I toss it back on my desk at the same moment I see Draven breeze by my open door.

“Draven,” I call to him, stopping his forward motion. “Come in a minute.”

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Nothing, shut the door and have a seat,” I instruct him.

When he’s seated in front of me, I scan his face. At thirty-six, he’s not much younger than I am. But right now, he appears years older. I’m upset I’ve missed the signs that he’s had something going on in his life, having been so preoccupied with my own bullshit.

“Your mother… What’s going on with her?” I jump right to it. No sense in tiptoeing around. That’s never been my style anyhow.

“Nah, man, everything’s good.”

“Lying doesn’t look good on you, brother.”

His face droops as he exhales deeply, and he runs his hand over the back of his neck.

“I’ve been trying hard not to worry too much about it, but I can’t make any more excuses for her. She’s been forgetting things lately and getting confused a lot. Like showing up for doctor’s appointments when she doesn’t have one scheduled. And she drove up to JD’s place in a panic while we were in Memphis because she couldn’t get a hold of me.”

Well, shit. That’s not good.

“Has she seen a doctor or anything?”

Draven looks at me but doesn’t speak for a few minutes. He looks like he could break at any moment, but he’s clawing at himself to keep it together.

“He said it looks like early onset dementia. He prescribed her some meds to help with memory and concentration, but they’re not a cure. They only delay the inevitable.”

I nod my head because what the fuck else can I do? What do you say to someone—maybe the closest friend you have—who just told you their mother’s brain is deteriorating, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it?

“I’m really sorry to hear that. Please keep me posted, and let me know if there is anything I or the club can do to help.”

Draven inclines his head slightly, acknowledging my offer and sympathies, when we’re interrupted by my phone buzzing across my desk.

Picking it up, I see Hound’s name on the screen and accept the call, putting it on speakerphone for Draven to hear.

“Judge,” I answer.

“Hey, man. It’s Hound. I found what you were looking for.”

“Draven is here too. You’re on speaker. What have you got for us?”

“It’s not looking good,” he starts, and my heart drops. I’ve sent him on a wild goose chase, like I did with Chainz and Tank. “I combed through the footage around the time of the attack on the night in question. The assailants parked in a back lot, walked straight to the rear door of the boutique and nowhere else.”

“So it wasn’t random,” I chime in, hating this fact but hopeful it will give me something to help prove my case against Drew.

“I mean... Are there other stores they could have hit with more money and better shit to steal? Yeah. But this... It’s still not enough to prove it was your guy.”

He’s right. I fucking hate it, but that’s not enough to implicate Drew in this break in.

“Speaking of, I have footage of him parking in the main lot and walking straight to the boutique. When he gets there, it shows him about to knock before cupping his hands against the window and peering in, like he was trying to see what was going on.”

“Maybe he was trying to make sure the attack was in progress already?” I grasp at straws.

My eyes shoot to Draven’s for support, and he nods.

“Could be, but nothing in his body language screams guilt. He takes his shirt off and wraps his hand in it before punching through the door and letting himself in. The footage from the rear of the building a minute later shows the two attackers running out the back of the store followed by the third guy. Looks like he realized they were too far ahead, and he turns back and reenters the boutique.”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose to try to ward off an impending headache.

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