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Tobias scoots to a sitting position, propped against the wall, and wipes blood from his mouth. “Thank you, PJ,” he coughs out.
PJ’s angry eyes shoot to him as he slowly stands.
“I didn’t do it for you, you son of a bitch,” PJ sneers.
Then, he bolts forward and shoves his forearm against the slimy asshole’s throat, pinning him to the wall of the cabana.
“How could you?!” he screams in his best friend’s face.
Tobias sputters as he struggles to pull himself free. “I don’t know what Zoey said to you, but I can guarantee it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? You psycho! You were grooming my daughter. For eleven years, I trusted you with her, and you were a fucking predator.”
“Grooming? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Zoey. I love her like she’s my own,” Tobias begins.
“Don’t you dare say you love her like a daughter! You sick fuck. You messed her up so bad that she threw herself down the mountainside to escape you!”
“Daddy,” Zoey cries as I hold on to her.
He looks over his shoulder at us, and tears fill his eyes. “It wasn’t just you, baby. He fooled us all. I’m supposed to protect you, and I basically handed you to him on a silver platter. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
She whimpers and turns her face into my chest.
Langford walks over and places a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go. He’s turning purple.”
PJ bears into him a few more seconds before he drops his arm and lets Langford pull him backward.
“How many others were there, Tobias?” Dad asks.
“Oh, for God’s sake, PJ, I’m not a monster. I told you, this is all a misunderstanding. Once we all calm down, you’ll see that.”
“Fuck you. I’ll never calm down. I will see to it that you never work with another student. Life as you know it is over.”
Fear radiates from the man as the severity of the moment finally hits him.
“You can’t.”
“Can’t what? Talk to other parents? The press? The authorities?” PJ hisses. “I can, and I will, and you’d better hope the police get to you before any other fathers find out you touched one of their little girls.”
Blue lights fill the night sky as two Balsam Ridge patrol cars enter the parking area.
“What are they doing here?” I ask Langford.
“I called them. Zoey’s dad had contacted me at home and told me what was going on. He needed assistance getting Tobias out of their room. So, I called down to the police station and asked them to head this way.”
Kevin Crispen—an old friend of Weston’s and our newest appointed division chief of the Balsam Ridge Sherriff’s Office and Emergency Services—steps out of one of the cars.
“Kevin,” Langford greets as he walks over and shakes the chief’s hand.
Kevin looks around the scene. “What happened here?” he asks.
Tobias steps forward. “That young man assaulted me—that’s what happened. I’d like him arrested.”
Zoey gasps, and her hold around me tightens.
“Is that true, Morris?” Kevin asks.
“Yep.”
