Page 26 of Frankie and the Fed
“Are you still awake? I need to talk to you about something as your lawyer. I’m sorry, but it can’t wait.”
I turn my face to him and see that he’s serious. I try to focus and concentrate, but I’m having a hard time in the fog I’m in.
“Detective Delfino called me today from the San Francisco Police Department. They took a statement from Ayala Beckett.”
I narrow my eyes, wondering what he’s going to say.
“There’s a discrepancy between your versions.”
“What?”
“You told me you shot and killed Michael. You signed this affidavit in my presence.” He waves the pages.
“Right.”
“Ayala stated that at this point, you were unconscious. She says the bullet was ejected during a struggle between her and Michael.”
I honestly have no idea how Michael died. I only found out he had been shot and died when I woke up in the hospital, and Ryan updated me on the details. I lost so much blood that I couldn’t even save her from him. I’d passed out.
Great help I was.
I pulled out the only logical thing I could say to still try to save Ayala. I told them I was the one who shot him so she wouldn’t stand trial for murder.
“Ethan, it’s me. The truth, please. Then we’ll think about what to do next.”
I close my eyes and open them. I trust him with my life.
“I honestly don’t know what happened to him. I was passed out.”
“Fuck!” He looks down at the floor, then stares at me again. “This isn’t good. Why did you do such a thing?”
“Why do you think? I thought she’d killed him.”
“You thought she killed him?” he repeats after me.
“Obviously. Who else could do that? I didn’t want her to go to jail. I was going to kill him anyway, but I failed even that.”
“Shit, Ethan. Neither of you should have killed him. He should have been in prison for the rest of his life.” Ryan tilts his head. “And now you’re both in trouble because you lied.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll tell the police I lied.”
“No. It can create even more complications, and it’s uncertain they’ll believe you at this point in any case.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I throw up my hands, momentarily forgetting that my arm is in a sling, and grimace in pain.
“Sit quietly, and don’t talk to anyone other than me. Not even to the cops. I’ll issue a new statement. We’ll try to get out of it with the fact that you were dizzy and had lost a lot of blood.”
“Will Ayala get in trouble because of me?”
“I don’t know,” he says and sits on the bed next to me.
Fuck. The last thing I want is for her to get in trouble. “What are you doing?” I straighten up.
“Watching you.”
“I don’t need supervision. I’m not a child.”
“You sure act like a six-year-old.”
