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“Wait. You’re covering this up?”
“Now I want you to talk, Mr. Rosenberg, and I want you to tell me everything … the honest truth.” He lifts his eyebrows expectantly. “Is there something I need to know about you?”
Kyle stares back at him, numb, empty, as silent as a shell.
What could he possibly say?
There’s a knock at the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Juan, sir, but there’s a call for you.”
“I’m busy,” the chief clips without looking, eyes burning a hole through Kyle’s blank face.
“They said it’s urgent. Chelsea from the station.”
The chief’s eyes narrow. “Thank you,” he nearly growls, sounding anything but thankful. After the door shuts again, he takes a step away from the bed, then looks Kyle over. “You and I aren’t done, Mr. Rosenberg.”
“Am I free to go?”
The chief cocks an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You have me handcuffed.” Kyle gives his wrist a few tugs against the railing. “Isn’t anyone in the clinic wondering why you have a patient cuffed to the bed? What was I brought here for at all? I’m guessing it wasn’t a gunshot wound to the head.”
The chief stares him down, nearly angry. Then he comes right back up to the bed. “I’m gonna take this call. And you’re gonna sit right here and think long and hard about what you wanna tell me. Once I’m satisfied, and only once I’m satisfied, then that cuff comes off your wrist, you go back home, and we all pretend this day never fucking happened. You got it?”
The look in the chief’s eyes is harsh and unyielding.
But underneath the gruff, Kyle, for the first time, senses a rich and pulsing emotion, as warm as a blanket on a cold winter morning, wholesome and pure.
It’s appreciation. Relief. Overflowing happiness.
This man almost lost his son today.
He can’t wait to return to him.
He is, despite all his suspicion and dislike for Kyle, grateful.
“I got it,” says Kyle sincerely back.
The chief takes a step away, frowns, then heads out of the room, curtain swishing. With the curtain out of the way, Kyle spots a digital clock on the wall. 5:58 AM, it reads.
The sun will be rising soon, if it hasn’t already.
That unfortunate fact is not lost on Kyle.
Even if he does get out of here soon, how will he get home safely? The clinic is on the opposite end of town.
It’s exactly one and a half minutes later that the door opens again. When Kyle looks over, it’s not the police chief. Jeremy is at the door, having slipped in.
He rushes up to the bed. “Henry! We need to talk. I saw my dad on the phone by the nurse’s station and we don’t have much time.”
“Are you alright?” asks Kyle. “Did you get hurt? You got a cut on your forehead.”
“None of that matters. You and I got a way more serious issue. An issue my dad doesn’t know dick about.”
Kyle sits up fully. “What issue?”
Jeremy winces. “I … I wasn’t alone last night.”
“Not alone? Who was with you?”
“Layna.” Jeremy won’t stop wringing his hands. “Layna and I. We’re … We’re kinda seeing each other. Sorta. Not sure if it’s serious yet.”
Layna, Cade’s daughter. Kyle saw no sign of her. “But—”
“She snuck out with me last night,” says Jeremy. “We were out taking photos. Weird stuff at night, like I always like to do. And …” He appears uncomfortable. “I noticed the pawnshop doors were wide open. Layna told me not to go, told me to call my dad, but I didn’t. She stayed back when I went inside.”
Kyle shifts in the bed, handcuff tugging annoyingly on his wrist, digging into the skin. “So she witnessed it all, too?”
“More than witnessed.” Jeremy grimaces as he averts his eyes. “She … recorded everything. On her phone.”
Kyle stares at him. “Everything …?”
“Yes … everything. You showing up. The confrontation, she got it through the side window, recorded on her phone. She got the … the gunshot. And …” Jeremy looks at Kyle, worried. “And you attacking the guy.”
Hollow.
That’s what Kyle feels like. A flute with no player, holes up and down his body, punctured, silent, hollow.
“She …” Kyle swallows. “She recorded … the whole …?”
“My dad doesn’t know. Like I said. But …” Jeremy’s eyes flash as he grips the railing. “We watched the video, like, fifty times, Layna and I. The gun must’ve misfired or something. It barely affected you, like you’re Superman. Then you straight up pounced on him, bit his ear off. Blood went everywhere. Like, what?? Crazy!” Jeremy nearly laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a fucking badass, Henry.”
Kyle leans back in his bed, aghast.
It’s on video?
The whole encounter is on video?
“But that’s where we have a little problem,” says Jeremy.
Kyle turns to him, already too overwhelmed. “What?”
“Layna got caught by her mom. I guess her mom went into her bedroom and saw she wasn’t there. So when Layna tried to sneak back in through her window, her mom was there, and she got a bit of a scolding. I think she’s mad at me now. But … that isn’t the issue.” Jeremy squirms. “Her mom took her phone.”
