The Other Game (The Perfect Game 4)

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But you’ve gotta go find her, Jack.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?” he growled, but more at Brett than at me.

“Dean was unconscious, man. What was I supposed to do?” Brett said, trying to explain.

“Where are you two going?” Jack looked at the two of us as if suddenly realizing that we were walking into campus instead of out of it.

“To the police station,” Brett said before I could.

I grabbed my brother’s arm. “Jack, please go find Cassie. I’ll be fine. Some guy hit her.”

His face turned cold with rage. “What do you mean, some guy hit her?”

“Just go. Ask questions later,” I begged him.

Jack sucked in a sharp breath to calm himself and looked me in the eye, his expression filled with pain. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” But I’ll never forgive myself if Cassie isn’t. “Go find her. I’ll be fine,” I said, and he didn’t hesitate for a second before he took off running.

Brett propped me up as we headed toward the campus police office in the distance, its blue light illuminating the small building. We walked in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.

When we reached the door, Brett pulled it open and shouted, “We need some help out here.”

An older guy came around from behind a door and almost dropped his mug of coffee when he saw us. “Shit. Are you okay? What happened?” He placed the mug on top of the counter and moved around the desk that separated us.

“I think it looks worse than it is,” I said with a smile before wincing from the pain. Even the light in the room hurt; it was too bright, too glaring.

“Sergio, get out here,” the first cop yelled, and another guy appeared, his mouth half-filled with food.

“What the—”

“You boys want to tell us what happened to you tonight? I’m Officer Candalle, by the way, and this is my partner, Officer Santos.”

“I’m Dean, and this is Brett.”

“And you’re both students here at Fullton State?”

“Yes. Mind if I sit?” I motioned toward the uncomfortable-looking metal chair in the corner.

“No, of course. Do you need some ice?” Officer Candalle asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I honestly had no idea what I needed. All I knew was that my head hurt like a bitch and probably needed stitches. “Maybe some ibuprofen or something for the pain?”

Officer Santos frowned. “We’re not allowed to give you medication. Sorry. Maybe we should get you to the hospital. We can ask you questions from there,” he suggested, but I shook my head.

“Yeah, man, maybe we should get you looked at,” Brett said. I’d almost forgotten he was still there.

“Not yet. I need you guys to catch the piece of shit who hurt my sister,” I blurted without thinking.

Calling Cassie my sister had seemed like the smart thing to do. I knew from watching TV shows that if you weren’t related, people didn’t give you information. She was important to Jack, which meant she was important to me, so I needed to know everything there was to know about her situation.

Santos sat down across from me before giving his partner an order. “Lance, go grab the camera, please.”

“You’re going to record this?” I asked, assuming he was going to film my statement.

“Photograph. It’s standard procedure. We need evidence of all your injuries.” He glanced at Brett. “Do you have any injuries, or is that blood all his?”

Brett shook his head. “It’s all his.”