Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

She sits up straighter and continues. “Well, you can imagine he didn’t like that. He’d never been violent. It took me by surprise. When I told him to get out for good and take his crap with him, he smacked me across the face and gestured like he had a gun. ‘If you don’t want me to store it, you can damn well help me deliver it,’ he told me, and forced me to drive across town. He said it was his biggest haul ever, and I’d fly under the radar better than him. That was the night I got arrested.”

She makes a choking sound, cutting off. I want to reach across the table for her hand so badly, but Sutton shakes his head, reminding me of prison protocol.

Ugh.

“Abby, it’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“I did know, Reese. I knew enough. I just didn’t want to. I let him bully me. Will swore he’d take Millie and sue me for custody. He said he took pictures of drugs hidden in my car, and he’d turn the tables on me with the authorities if I refused to cooperate. I’d lose Millie forever. I was desperate...I wasn’t thinking. So I ran Millie upstairs to Mrs. Gamlin and acted like I had a big job in another town—” She cuts off again, a hot sob ripping through her. Tears flow from her eyes. “God, I fucked up. I’m never getting out of here, am I?”

“You’ll be out soon, Abby,” I say, eyeballing Sutton for moral support. “You don’t have to worry. He can’t hurt you or Millie. We have proof connecting him to the drug running, and the medical report proves someone hit you that night. If we move fast, we can make this right.”

“My apologies. I know you’re upset,” Sutton says, looking up from the tablet he’s been typing on furiously. “I just need to make sure I’ve got this down right...”

I glance over at him. He’s been so quiet I half forgot he was even here.

“I didn’t want to interrupt or make her nervous,” he says, looking at Abby. “I’m going to read this back to you to make sure I’ve captured every detail, and if you’re happy with it, I’ll put the oath at the bottom, and you can sign it. That should serve as your statement.”

“That’s...that’s it?” Abby asks.

“That’s it. Hardly painless, but this is as bad as it gets. I’m sorry to do this while you’re upset, but your sister is right. The sooner we get William Frisk locked up, the better, and the faster I can get the district attorney to drop the charges against you.”

She nods vigorously.

My heart does a somersault, seeing the evil spell this man had over her dissipating alongside her fear.

I listen as they go over everything he’s written, with Abby correcting the occasional detail.

Once he’s read the whole revised statement, he says, “Let me see if they’ll let me print this here, and we can get it signed right now.”

He goes and knocks on the window in the metal door for a guard.

A burly woman swings the door open. “What do you need?”

After some hemming and hawing, Sutton wins her over, and a few minutes later, she’s back with the printed copy.

The attorney sets it down in front of Abby. He turns to the second page and points at the bottom. “This is it. The document says that everything we’ve written is accurate and that if anything isn’t true and you sign it, you’re committing perjury, which is punishable by jail time.”

“It’s all true,” Abby says, her voice raw.

“So, you’ll sign on the line under the oath and date it. I’ll send this with a copy of the anonymous report with Will’s GPS location right over—”

“You got his GPS?” Abby blinks in surprise.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

“Nick,” I mouth to her.

Her smile highlights the rings around her eyes. “Are y’all a thing now? Finally?”

“Sorta.” Then I remember how weird he’s been for the last day or so and my happiness wilts. “At least, we were.”

I’m not sure what’s happening anymore.

This is hardly the time or place to be pining over a man who’s always strapped my heart to a rocket.

“Give him a break if he’s done something stupid. He does too much not to care about you,” Abby whispers.

“He’s been wonderful with all this.” I focus on the table. “It’s not that. I just think he may have changed his mind.”

“Really?”

I don’t know what to say, so I keep it to myself.

Before she can question me again, the guard opens the door. “Time’s up for today, but if you still need to talk to your attorney, he can come back tomorrow.”

Abby looks at her, exasperated, and stands like it takes great effort. Relief shines in her eyes as she looks back over her shoulder. I wave goodbye, hoping it’s the last time we’ll have to do this here.