Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

This is the nature of the beast in this business. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Pushing my hands deep into my jacket pockets, I shrug. “You can have the first public interview that Kidd gives.”

I don’t wait for Paul to agree before making my way up the last few stairs to enter the police station. The desk sergeant knows why I’m here and motions for me to walk down the hall after telling me they’re in room five. I knock and enter. Both Travis and Abbott’s eyes are on me.

“Travis is in trouble,” Abbott says. Those are the last words I expected to hear when I walked in.

Three

Travis

If there is one thing I’ve learned from my former coaches, it’s to always be honorable. To show respect, even in situations where it may not be shown toward me in return. I may not always be this way, especially when it comes to women, but you can bet your ass I am when it comes to Boston’s finest. So when I answered someone knocking on my front door and the man dressed in a suit introduces himself as Detective Hook and asks for a minute of my time, I let him in.

Maybe if I had known what he wanted when he was standing on my stoop, I wouldn’t be here right now. Here, being the Boston precinct, where people who were in the drunk tank are calling my name out, and the officers I pass are asking what my predictions will be for next season.

Detective Hook leads me down the hall and into a box-shaped room. Now, in the off-season, I watch a lot of television, with crime shows being my favorite, and I can tell you that this interrogation room looks nothing like the ones in Hollywood. It’s dark, drab, and doesn’t even have a small window. Also missing is the two-way glass I’d really like to see.

Hook motions for me to sit down and pulls out his chair. I cringe at the sound of the metal legs scraping against the flooring. As I sit in the metal chair with a ripped seat cushion that is missing half the foam insert, the errant pieces of vinyl dig into my legs through my track pants. In hindsight, I probably should’ve changed my clothes or grabbed something to eat before coming here.

“Mr. Kidd, I want to first thank you for coming down here.”

“Please, call me Travis.”

Hook nods, opens his folder, and silently reads over a sheet of paper before closing the folder. He pushes it aside, and then he slides a yellow legal pad in front of him, folding his hands, while smiling at me. It’s all very mechanical, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think this is a speed-dating course. I did that once for the hell of it. Some guy taught us how to pick up chicks in under three minutes. I don’t know if it was successful or not. Most of the women figured out who I was and rang their bell.

“Travis, I’m going to ask you a few questions, and please remember that you can leave at any time. Can you tell me where you were last night around eleven thirty?”

I scratch my head, not out of confusion, but habit. “I think I was home.”

“You think?” Hook picks up the pen that is sitting next to the folder and leans back in his chair. He depresses the button repeatedly, filling the room with that annoying clicking noise.

As if it’s an automatic response, my shoulders shrug, and I nod.

“But you’re not sure?” Hook sets his pen down and folds his hands together.

By the way he’s looking at me, something in the back of my mind is telling me that I really shouldn’t be here, that volunteering to come down to the station to chat was a mistake.

“Am I in some sort of trouble?”

“Travis, do you know Rachel Ward?” Hook asks. As I shake my head, he opens the folder and pulls out an image, sliding it over to me with his finger pinning it to the table.

“I met her last night, but uh…she introduced herself as Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Yeah, we shot a few games of pool. Had some beer.”

“Anything else?”

This is where you keep your mouth shut, Kidd. “We kissed a little.”

“And where did you take Ms. Ward when you left the bar?”

I shake my head. “Nowhere.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am. Did she say she was with me? Did she do something wrong?”

Hook takes the photo and places it back into his folder. “No, Travis. Ms. Ward went to the emergency room last night and informed the nurse that she had been raped…” Hook lets that sink in for a minute before he goes in for the kill. “By you.”