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Dan Holloway didn’t answer, but turned slowly to stare at Xavier.
Xavier, who stood with Willow’s handprint like a sunburn over half his face. A mark on his skin, stark and red for all to see.
In a flash of movement Dan broke out of his stasis and tackled Xavier to the ground, taking two chairs down with him, and sending a tab
le teetering, its centerpiece toppling over.
One of the officers sprinted into the fray, yanking Willow’s father off of Xavier. Ross stepped in to defend his son. Mrs. Wilkinson shrieked for someone to ‘save her boy’. Regina cried. Bonnie and Angie stared, a protective barricade in front of Willow. More police arrived, pulling people apart, barking orders to break it up and threatening to haul us all down to the station. It was something out of a movie scene. Except for Willow, who stood dead center in the storm. Her eyes finally reaching me as a cop grabbed my arm to take me out.
“It’s okay,” she said, pushing through her friends to come to my side. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
And I believed her.
Once at the station, I was directed to sit at the booking officer’s desk. I sat for ten minutes, still cuffed, watching the hum of precinct business, but none of it directed at me. Not until the Wilkinsons arrived, Ross cursing, his wife clinging to her son.
Xavier was pale beneath Willow’s red handprint on his cheek. It had faded from blistering red to pink but still visible.
My imagination told me it resembled a W made from her palm and fingers.
No smug smile, blustering threats or pointing fingers. He stood still and quiet as his father shouted at anyone who would listen that this nothing town would pay for this outrage.
Willow and Regina came into the precinct, followed by Angie and her mother. A female officer led them down a hallway of interrogation rooms. Willow walked with her head high. Our eyes met as she passed me, and the barest of smiles curved her lips.
I sank in the chair, the handcuffs tight around my wrists. Xavier had no handcuffs, but as he was marched past me with his family, he met my eyes too. In them I saw only defeat. He looked like a man on his way to the gas chamber.
A bookings officer finally sat down at his desk and shuffled through some paper. “Turned out to be one hell of a party,” he said. “You want to tell me what happened?”
“Four years ago,” I said with cold calmness, “Xavier Wilkinson hurt the woman I love. I felt he needed to know that was un-fucking-acceptable.”
The officer nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, she’s telling her story right now.” He took his face out of his hands and smirked. “Four years ago?”
“If you caught a murderer four years after he committed the crime, would you want to let them go?” I spat. “Go easy on him? Or would you be fucking glad a criminal was caught so he couldn’t do it again?”
The officer gave me a dry look. I knew the system wasn’t going to be fixed overnight with a few choice words. Still, I was shocked when twenty minutes later, the officer unlocked my handcuffs and told me I was free to go.
“They’re not pressing charges?” I asked
The cop gave me another look. “You want them to? No, your boxing partner refused to make a statement. He’s clammed up. You’re free to go.”
I went to the front of the station, rubbing my wrists. Brenda sat in a chair while Marty paced around, running hands through his hair. He stopped when he saw me.
“Jesus, Isaac, what happened? What’s going on?”
Before I could answer, Angie emerged. Eyes bloodshot and swollen, leaning heavily against her mother.
“Where’s Willow?” I asked.
“She’s going home,” Angie said. “She’s dead tired and wants to be alone. Her parents are driving her. They left out the back.”
She took a step toward me. “She told them everything. I don’t know what good it’ll do. The fucker and his parents promised to fight with every weapon they have. But she did it.”
I nodded. I wanted to say I was glad, but the battle wasn’t over yet. It had likely just started.
“Willow told me to tell you something,” Angie said. “I’m supposed to say ‘Act Two, Scene Two.’” She cocked her head. “You know what it means?”
I nodded, relief surging through me. “Yeah, I know exactly what it means.”
It means we still have a chance.
