Couldn’t protect Shiloh either.
Guilt, rage, and grief—the three monkeys on my back—squawked and howled.
Kowalski gave me a hard look. “Answer the question, son.”
“People need help,” I said. “If they don’t get it from you, I give it to them.”
“Well, ain’t that some vigilante shit.” Kowalski rolled his eyes. “Threatening to toss a man over a balcony ishelping?”
I sneered. “He left her alone after that, didn’t he?”
“How about Frankie, two nights ago? Were you ‘helping’ then too?”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“You didn’t see Franklin Dowd on the night of July thirtieth?”
I shifted in my seat. A bead of sweat crawled between my shoulder blades like an insect. “I’m not telling you shit.”
“Come on, Wentz,” Harris said. “Let’s make this easy on everyone. We all know what happened.”
Kowalski ticked off his fingers. “You got a well-documented beef with Frankie Dowd. You broke his nose within seconds of meeting him. Fifty witnesses can say they saw you tackle him to the floor at a house party on September ninth of last year, and a few months ago, you were heard telling him that if he hurt anyone you cared about, you would, quote,fuck his shit up.”
Harris crossed his arms. “Shiloh Barrera is someone you care about, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I said. And that was the truest thing I said that night.
“And Frankie hurt her,” Harris continued. “So you did just what you promised and fucked his shit up. Hard. Didn’t you?”
“I told you, I—”
“He’s in the hospital, Ronan,” Kowalski said. “Fighting for his life.”
Harris nodded. “That’s called motive.”
“And here you sit, your fists swollen and bruised all to hell. But this time, it wasn’t you. Is that what you’re saying?”
I tilted my chin. “That’s what I’m fucking saying.”
Harris heaved a sigh. “You’re just making this harder on yourself, Wentz. This case is cut-and-dried. Confess and maybe they’ll cut you a deal. If your victim survives, that is.”
My aching hands made fists under the table. I was allowed a lawyer. A phone call. But what good would it do? I was guilty before they sat my ass in the chair.
Harris cocked his head. “You want to know what I think, Ronan?”
I already knew what he thought.
End of the road.
Like father, like son.
Shiloh, I’m sorry. I tried.
The detective leaned over me, his tone cold and final. Like a door slamming shut. “I think you’re going to prison for a very long time.”
Part I
OneShiloh