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A cop is standing next to him, gaze locked on me, expression as readable as a dog tag blown to dust.
“The officer wants to talk to you,” Troy says, frowning.
I put the power screwdriver on the working platform, climb down the ladder at the end of the scaffolding, and walk over to the cop. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
He’s shorter than me by a couple of inches. He lifts his chin as if that will make a difference. “A witness reported that you were selling drugs to a group of teens this afternoon. I need you to come in to the station for some questions.”
“I wasn’t selling drugs this afternoon or this morning or any other time. Whoever told you that I was is lying.”
Troy’s frown deepens, his gaze focused on the cop. “When and where exactly is he accused of doing this?”
“The witness reported that you were seen talking to two teens in front of this house at around one-oh-nine p.m.”
Christ, this is bullshit. “Talking to teens isn’t illegal. Even if it were, I haven’t talked to any today.” My voice is granite cold, the temperature dropping with each word. “I’ve been on the scaffolding for most of the day. Your witness lied.”
“I can vouch that he hasn’t spoken to any teens today,” Troy says.
“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” The officer’s tone cuts the air, electric blade to metal.
“Can you tell me what teens I supposedly sold the fictitious drugs to?”
“Are you going to cooperate or not?”
Mrs. Jenkins walks down her porch steps and positions herself so that she has a better view of what’s going on.
Troy gives me a barely perceptible nod, and I relent. Not because I don’t think this is fucked up. I don’t want to hurt Troy’s company. The longer I’m out here disagreeing with the cop, the greater the chance more people will witness what’s happening, and it could turn nasty for my brother.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is so goddamn ridiculous.
I step toward the cruiser, shame and anger, dread and regret handcuffed to me.
Mrs. Lewis, my high school chemistry teacher, shuffles across the street to where we’re standing. She’s been sitting on her porch since I arrived this morning, knitting. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, ma’am.” The cop barely acknowledges her with a glance.
Troy walks up to her. She was also his teacher. “The officer believes that Lucas was selling drugs to some teens on the front lawn because someone claimed they saw him doing that this afternoon.”
The cop tasers us with his glare. “I didn’t say it was on the front lawn.”
“Well, if he did sell drugs to the teens, it would have to be at the front of this house because that’s where he’s been since he returned from lunch just over an hour ago. And that’s where he was working this morning.”
Mrs. Lewis’s gaze volleys between us. “Teens? There haven’t been any teens on this street this afternoon. And I should know. I’ve been sitting outside all day—other than when Lucas left for an hour around eleven thirty with his wife.”
“Maybe you just didn’t see them,” the cop says. “Or you happened to be turned away when they were talking to Lucas.”
Mrs. Lewis’s wrinkled cheeks turn pink. “Right. Have you seen him?” She waves her hand at my shirtless body. “Trust me, a woman wouldn’t look away from this fine specimen if she can help it. I’ve been sitting on my front porch watching him work. So, whoever told you they saw him selling drugs to teens was lying or needs to get their eyes checked.”
“If you want, you can search my SUV,” I tell the cop. “You won’t find any drugs.”
He does exactly that while Mrs. Lewis, Troy, and I watch. He unsurprisingly finds nothing.
“God, that was fucking bullshit,” I mutter under my breath as he climbs into his vehicle. Then cringe. “Sorry.” I smile at Mrs. Lewis. The smile starts out apologetic, then switches to grateful. “Thank you for telling the cops what you saw.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lucas. Maybe I should invite my bridge club over tomorrow so we can make sure no one else tries to accuse you of something you didn’t do. We can be your own personal bodyguards.” She winks at me, and I chuckle. “Well, I’ll let you gentlemen get back to making my day a little brighter.” She shuffles across the street and returns to her porch.
The rest of the day continues without incident, but the shitload of emotions at what happened earlier sets up camp in my gut. By the time I head to Rose’s house to help her with her PT exercises, I’m drained. Fed up. Ready to punch something. Go for a hard run. Yell.
I ring the doorbell. Simone answers the door. Before she can say anything, I pull her into my arms and kiss her.
