School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,39

next to No Neck, except Tage had been breathing.

“A name, Tage. Something to go on. The police have nothing but that the beat cops don’t think you did it.”

“Siderov,” Tage whispered, so quietly Jackson could barely hear him. He glanced at the guard, who was listening intently, eyes narrowed.

“We’re going to try to get you off,” Jackson said, as though repeating Tage’s word. “Are you sure you can’t remember anything else?”

Tage shook his head, but in that same tone of voice he said one word, one that made Jackson’s blood run cold.

Jackson breathed out carefully through his nose and without looking at the guard, said, “Don’t worry, we won’t bother your father. He’s dealing with enough already.”

Tage closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he said, this time loud enough to hear.

At that moment, Ellery and Siren Herrera walked back in. Herrera looked torn. The brown eyes that fell on Tage were not without sympathy. Ellery looked furious, a spot of color on each pale cheek.

Jackson gave him a bland smile and said, “Counselor, can I have your legal pad?”

Ellery frowned but handed the folio over without hesitation. “Wha—”

Jackson raised an eyebrow at him, which was all he needed. Then he wrote—left-handed, hand curved over his pen—two words. He handed the folio back to Ellery, who did a slow blink and then gestured to Herrera, and they left again.

“Tage,” Jackson said. “This is important. If we get you someplace safe, whether it’s in the jail or in protective custody, I need you to do me a huge favor.”

Tage sat up a little and wiped his face on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Don’t talk to anybody. Not police, not friends, not even Sascha, although I think he wants only what’s best for your family. Can you do that for me?”

Tage frowned. “But you just asked me—”

“I did. But Ellery and me, we’re it. Someone walks up to you in the yard, in your cell, and says, ‘How’d it go with the lawyers,’ you tell them we’re full of shit and you’ll probably be in for life. It’s not true!” he added hastily as Tage’s face registered his horror. “But you have a face like an open book, kid. I need you to not let anybody read you who doesn’t need to. Can you do that for me?” While he was speaking, Herrera and Ellery slid back into the room but remained quiet.

Tage didn’t notice them. He swallowed, throat working. “We do not share our souls here,” he said weakly.

“Good. You keep that up. No soul sharing.” Jackson smiled at him kindly. “I’ll tell your father you are okay.”

Tage’s lower lip wobbled, but he nodded.

“And you keep your eyes open, hear?”

Jackson glanced up at Herrera to make sure she wasn’t going to give him crap.

“Infirmary tonight,” Siren said. “Cramer, you can accompany him there and make sure the nurse on duty has him in the infirmary cell. I’ll have a number for bail first thing tomorrow.”

The naked hope on Tage’s face hurt to see. Jackson pinned him with a no-bullshit gaze.

“We’ll be here at eight with a suit,” he said. “But in the meantime, I don’t give a shit who asks—what’s your answer?”

Tage’s eyes stayed focused on Jackson’s face, but they could both see the guard in his peripheral vision. “My lawyers are shitty. I’ll be in jail for life.”

Jackson let out a long breath. “Deal.” He looked at Ellery and then leaned forward, just far enough to keep his voice low. “Don’t eat anything tonight.”

He pulled back, and Tage’s eyes were enormous. “Da,” he said numbly.

And then the guard said, “Time to go. Infirmary?” He looked at the ADA.

“Yes,” she responded. “Please escort Mr. Cramer and the prisoner there, and then Mr. Cramer back.”

“I’ll—” Jackson began, but Herrera shook her head.

They both sat suspiciously as the guard unlocked Tage’s manacles from the table and then escorted him, chains hobbling his thin ankles, out of the room, Ellery on his heels. Jackson watched them go helplessly and then sagged in his seat.

“God, that kid had better be alive in the morning.”

Siren Herrera regarded him evenly from those sharp brown eyes of hers. “What makes you think he won’t? And make it quick. I just pulled the infirmary card.”

“Kid was terrified. Wouldn’t say anything. I got two words from him, and when I got the first one, I looked up and the guard was practically in my pants. His cousin, Sascha, was on the inside for three years, stolen