It had been eerily quiet for so long, she jumped in her seat when she heard the front door open. She straightened, watching the two officers walk in. They scanned the room before zoning in on her in the living room. The lead offered a strained smile while the other gave her a stern scowl.Good cop, bad cop?
“Charley, right?” The taller of the two rounded the coffee table. “I’m Officer Becker.” He pointed to the man standing by the door. “That’s Officer Mitchell. How are you holding up?”
It was the million-dollar question. And one she didn’t have an answer for. So she lied.
“I’m okay.” Her voice was raspy.
He sat a few feet away on the edge of the recliner, eyeing her neck. She lowered her chin, hoping to shield his view. She hadn’t been in front of a mirror yet, but she knew she bore the marks of an assault.
“How’s your neck?”
“I’m fine.” She grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled it over her shoulder.
Officer Becker slowly nodded, staring at her intently. Charley shifted on the couch, darting her gaze between the men.
“Got into a fight with your brother, huh?”
The last thing she wanted to do was incriminate Cody, but there was no escaping the proof on her neck. She clasped the neckline of her T-shirt, tugging it up. It wouldn’t mask much, but she still did it.
“Disagreement.”
“About what?” he asked.
Charley clamped her lips. Lying should’ve been the last thing she was considering. But she didn’t want to risk his fate if she told the truth. Simple assault or domestic violence, both carried a hefty penalty. And she was wearing the proof on her neck. She dug her nails into the pillow, avoiding all eye contact.
Charley was struggling. Yes, her brother needed help, but not a prison term. She’d tried to rationalize the whole scene for the last thirty minutes. She went over everything in her mind. Could she have done something different to provoke a different outcome? This wasn’t her fault. She knew that much. But if she had better tools in dealing with his episodes, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. It was her guilt talking, and Charley recognized that, but she couldn’t quite shake it. Family was hard to navigate. A constant struggle between push and pull, the good and the bad, and the ones left standing when it all fell apart.
I will not give up on him.
“Charley?”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, mentally sorting through a thousand lies. She was seeking a scapegoat.I’m in a no-win situation.An admission to what had happened would implicate Cody. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Right or wrong, she was in protective mode. She shook her head and remained silent.
Officer Becker inched closer in his chair. “Cody told us what happened.”
What? She jerked her head, wide eyed and skeptical.Why would he do that?Charley immediately shook her head, veering her gaze between both men.
“I don’t want to press charges,” she blurted, and Officer Mitchell walked toward her, stopping at the edge of the couch.
“That’s good.” He almost sounded relieved.
It is?She was sure, considering the violent nature of the situation, they’d insist she file charges against her brother. She wasn’t in denial about the night’s events, but it was an isolated incident. She didn’t want this on his record. It would serve as an obstacle getting Cody what he really needed.Help.
Charley wasn’t acting as a blind victim. She saw the bigger picture because they’d been down this road before. Cody had never been physical with her, but he’d gotten erratic, belligerent, and acted out. Her brother was fighting his demons and clearly losing the battle.
Officer Becker rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, peering up at her. “We don’t have a lot of options, Charley, but we do have a few. You telling me that you don’t want to press charges shows me where your head’s at. This is a delicate situation, and we want to help Cody. Just like you do.”
She drew in a deep breath. For the first time tonight, she felt a sense of relief and a sliver of ease.
“W-what are the options?” Her stutter had her clearing her throat. Again, wrong move. She winced as the rawness inflamed her throat.
“Drink some water.” Officer Becker gestured to the bottle between her legs.
Charley grabbed it, taking a slow sip. Then another. It was a feat just swallowing. The officers were patient, one evengrabbing a tissue from the box on the floor. He handed it to her, and she patted her eyes.
“Thank you,” she muttered and sniffled, trying to regain a semblance of order.I’m failing.This was just too much.
Officer Becker shifted his gaze between her and his partner. There was a long stretch of silence before he settled back in his chair. “So the options. First being jail. He can detox there, but we all know he isn’t going to get the kind of care he really needs to kick his addiction. Putting him in jail is only going to put a bandage on it.”