Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,12
was definitely a great thing. It was especially good, because I had some news she probably wasn’t going to like. She’d need that fight.
“Well, before you head out, we need to talk.”
I looked at my watch. Eight minutes to call Nora.
“About what, Reggie? I’ve told you I can’t really remember anything,” she recited for exactly the thirtieth time in the past week.
I stopped her before she could finish. “I didn’t want to say anything to Casey, but you know my friend Paul, the cop?”
“Yeah.”
“He called me yesterday. He heard at the station that Grant changed his story. Since he’s looking at a pretty steep fine, probably even a little jail time for the stunt with the gun, he’s looking for a way out. Paul says Grant’s claiming Casey did that to you and that’s why he had his gun drawn. To protect himself and you.”
“No. That’s not true,” she snapped, almost shouting.
“I know it’s not true, because I rode over there with Casey. I told Paul that, but Blake, if you can’t remember, it’s just his word against ours. He’s saying it to get himself out of trouble. If they have a reason to believe he was acting in self-defense, they might drop some of the charges.”
“He can’t do that. Casey didn’t hurt me. Grant did.”
Now we were getting somewhere. She’d never said that out loud to me. Sure I wanted Blake to open up about it, but I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted her to feel forced—or cornered—by Grant to do anything ever again, but this was the game he was playing. For all he knew, she couldn’t remember and he saw it as a way out. And a way to cause some shit for Casey in the process. I imagined, in the end, it would eventually go to trial or he’d take a plea with a lesser charge.
“That’s not right, Reggie.” The panic in her voice was unmistakable. “That’s not true. He can’t do that. Why can’t he just leave me alone?”
“Blake, are you sure you can’t remember?”
There was a pause. A long pause. A truth-confessing pause.
I had three minutes to call Nora. Why did I say only ten minutes?
“Hey, don’t stress out about it right now. Okay? Paul said Grant made his statement and asked if I could come in to make mine and answer a few more questions. I’ll be in town on Thursday.”
“What will they do to Casey?”
“They’ll probably call him to come in too, or they might even arrest him. I wanted to give you guys a heads-up. Paul said it would just be a formality, but it’d most likely happen in the next few days. Loverboy might want to call his lawyer, just so they’re ready. I thought maybe you’d want to tell him yourself.” It was a bad position to be in, especially since I knew she remembered some, if not all that had happened. Even I could tell, and I’d only seen her twice since she’d woken up, right before I came back to Chicago, but I’d talked to her on the phone plenty. It was in her voice. My money was to bet on her assuming Grant was in enough trouble—even without her statement or her pressing any charges—and she simply wanted to be done with him.
“That’s … that’s so wrong though.” Sheer terror echoed in her voice.
I hated that motherfucker for what he did to her. I didn’t know Casey all that well yet, but I kind of hated Grant for him too. The Casey I was quickly getting to know wouldn’t put up with his shit though. And despite her efforts, I didn’t think she was afraid of Casey going to jail. She knew what happened. She wouldn’t let Grant do anything to him. She was just scared of letting it all out.
That’s the way my little sister operated. Always had been. One time when we were kids she ripped the shit out of the bottom of her foot. It got infected, but the little shit wouldn’t tell anyone until it started making her sick. That girl could hold things in like no one else I knew, but she had her tells.
“Don’t worry, Blake. Casey will be all right.”
“I know he will,” she said. In the span of two minutes she’d changed her tune. She didn’t sound like a victim, and that was exactly what I wanted. She’d just gotten there a lot faster than I predicted.
“If you know anything, it’s probably a