“What time is it?” Nic asked, voice muffled by the pillow, residual alcohol fuzzing his senses. Was this a dream? His face rested in a pool of dribble, tongue a wasteland.
“It’s one a.m. Get up, Nicholas.”
Why was his dad here? “I sent you a text. What’s the problem?”
“Look! They let me come get you out of respect. Instead of carting you out of here cuffed by Barney.”
Nic bolted upright, nearly head-butting Jonathon. “Cuffed?”
“Nate was shot last night.”
“Shot?” he repeated like a dope. His brain lagged his stupid mouth. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He’s in surgery now. Shattered shoulder. He lost a lot of blood, but he’ll pull through. Mira got him to the hospital in time. Lucky she was there. Tell me quickly, before they storm the place. What really happened to my Colt?”
“I had another fight with Sasha Arkady. He stole the gun from me.”
“How did he know you had a gun?”
“He threatened Sam. I threatened back.”
His dad scrubbed hands through sleep-tussled hair. He’d obviously risen swiftly, jacket haphazard and shirt unbuttoned in the flashing gloom. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because if Nic had shared he’d pulled a gun on someone, it would obliterate all trust forever even inspired by someone as deserving as Arkady.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you twice in one day. His prints will be all over it.” Then clarity hit. Arkady! Again. Dragging him down into his netherworld.
“That’s the problem. Yours are the only ones showing up. They found it discarded in an industrial skip behind the strip.”
“Is this a joke?” Nic asked, panic tinged.
The evening’s events unfolded and he realised he had no solid alibi for the time in question, CJ the last person he’d seen. Having grown up in a house dominated by the legal system, Nic was intimately acquainted with his options. And they shrunk to a speck on the far horizon.
“I very much wish it was.”
“Let me guess. The gun was retrieved just down from Benson’s Ballet.”
“You may want to keep comments like that to yourself for the interim. Come on, Son. Let’s get this over with. See what’s to be done.”
“Have you got money for bail? Did you hire a lawyer?”
At this hour? His hysteria-riddled mind elaborated the negative -- he was poised to spend the remnants of this night and possibly longer in a cell at the station. There must be a way out of this! He was innocent.
Competing with obvious anxiety, his dad looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’ll sell the horses if I have to.”
“You know I didn’t do this. Right, Dad?”
“Of course. But my opinion’s not worth a damn right now. It’s the evidence that counts and it’s not great for you.”
“What’s alleged?”
“Firearm charges. Malicious wounding. Attempted murder. Nate didn’t see his attacker. He’s a tad indisposed to clarify events.”
“How opportune!” Nic swung his legs over the side and groped for his jeans. “It’s that Arkady prick. He’s trying to ruin me.”
For a brief yet infinitely gratifying moment, Nic imagined pulling the trigger on his fanatical stalker, until reality snapped back. The seriousness of his current situation was bad enough. Bile filled his stomach and he battled the need to vomit. He couldn’t afford a record. Any miniscule blight provided impetus to overlook him for the next candidate applying to med-school.
“What’s his motive?” Jonathon eyed him the same way he used to regard Sam: with a mixture of scepticism and pity.
Nic grimaced, the obscurity of Sasha’s purpose maddening. “Insanity?”
Barney appeared, framed in the disco of siren lights flooding the door. “Sorry, Jonathon. I’ll need to take him for interview now. Hey, Nic. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Nic said. “But I’m not going anywhere until you complete a GSR kit. Take my clothes as well. I’m not risking cross-contamination at the station. I haven’t washed my hands since I arrived home and adding time will only degrade the samples.”
“We’ve not laid charges. It’s preliminary questioning.”
“I don’t care. I didn’t shoot my friend. The lack of gun shot residue will go a long way to proving it. You can take everything in my overnight bag too. I’ll walk out of here naked, if necessary.”
Jonathon gazed at Barney. “It’s a fair request, Officer. I’d be most appreciative.”
Barney swabbed Nic’s hands, collected clothes to evidence bags and waited while he redressed in Nate’s gear. Nic scraped slim dignity and allowed his father’s partner to usher him barefoot across dewed lawn into the back of a Police car, thankful for the absence of hand-cuffs. Inside smelt of urine and stale fried food.
By sunrise the whole town would know, the market grapevine in these parts faster than the internet. An overwhelming desire to laugh at the bizarreness of where he found himself took hold. But the injustice of Sasha dismantling his life like this, for no discernible reason, quashed the urge. And the bastard had hurt Nate. Could it be because he approached Mira? Or was it to get back at Nic, send some type of warped warning? Was anyone close to him the target of a lunatic?
His father leaned in, speaking via the open door. “Say nothing, Nic. Until I’m there. I’ll be right behind you.”
Barney outlined his rights, appearing more dismayed about it than both the Lawson’s put together. He’d attended barbeques at their place and Nic had babysat his twin toddlers.
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Nic asserted, sliding low on cheap vinyl. The car door closed with ominous finality.