“Depends on what you classify as stupid.” I laugh, downing the whiskey.
“What did you do?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know?”
“You destroyed it, didn’t you?”
I’m shocked as I look at him, slowly nodding my head.
He shakes his head as he exhales. “Goddamnit, Eli.”
“Look, turn me in if you want; I don’t care.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“What? Why?”
“Cause it’s bullshit evidence, the only thing that’s slightly sustainable is some grainy ass security camera from a gas station near where the prison is.” He shakes his head, sitting down on my couch. “Look, do I think he killed Sherman? Yeah, I think anyone who knew about the situation would think so. ButI also think Sherman deserved to die, and that Z had every right to do it.”
“Why?” sitting down across from him.
“What Sherman did…” he trails off before looking back at me and tilting his head. “Why didn’t you at least wait until fucking midnight?”
“Why?”
“Do you not remember?” he laughs. “We’ve only gotten memos about it every day for a month. That the cameras and lock system would be down for a few minutes for maintenance.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember, but it wouldn’t matter. In fact, that would be even more suspect.”
“What? Why?”
“Because anything regarding Z or the MC in general goes missing and I’m anywhere in the precinct, they’re gonna look at me.”
Nodding his head, I think he gets what I’m saying. “Someone said they overheard Z telling Darren he had offered to raise the baby with Tate.”
I nod.
“What?”
“That’s just the way his family was. They took me in when I needed a home, and his parents treated me exactly like their own kid, even though I wasn’t. It doesn’t matter about blood with them; it’s about loyalty. He would have raised it with her as his own.”
“That just doesn’t seem like…”
“A manly thing to do?” I can’t help but laugh out.
“Something like that…”
“Or it’s something that only someone who’s completely secure with themselves would do.”
Tilting his head, he looks at me again before nodding.
We’re quiet as I get up from the chair, walking into the kitchen and pouring both of us a glass of whiskey and walking it back out.
“You’re hoping you get caught?” he asks me as I sit back down.
“What?”
“You know they’re gonna catch you.”
