Colt and Sully left the interrogation room, both their jaws tight, their faces hard.
They left behind Tyler Berger and his father Travis. Travis Berger was probably an inch shorter than Layne but no less fit. But whereas Layne worked at being lean and strong, Travis Berger worked at bulk and intimidation. The man was a brute in a suit and his son was definitely a Mama’s Boy. Layne reckoned Tyler got to be a punk because Dad worked long hours, Mom was a pushover and Dad wasn’t all that thrilled with the results of his inattention but his priorities were fucked. One look at those two and it was evident that career was definitely more important than family. Watching them for half an hour, it wasn’t only evident, it was definite. Travis Berger barely knew his boy and what he knew he didn’t like much.
Cal and Layne were both in the observation room and the air was thick and volatile. They’d watched Colt and Sully work the kid and they’d done it in silence. The silence was because even a word could spark the invisible fuse in the room and when it did, that fuse was short and, once lit, the room would explode.
Travis had let Colt and Sully go all out on his boy, he hadn’t intervened once. He was now standing in the corner, staring down his nose at his son, legs planted wide, arms crossed on his barrel chest, face a mask of pissed way the fuck off.
The door barely closed on Sully when Travis spoke. “What’d I say?”
Layne watched Tyler stare at the table in front of him but he whispered, “Dad –”
“Three strikes,” Travis cut him off. “I told you after you kept fuckin’ around and didn’t listen to me, you had three strikes left. Now, one was that pot I found in your room two weeks ago. Two was that fuckin’ party and I saw your Mom’s Royal Doulton smashed, Ty. To bits. She loves that shit. God knows what other damage was done. I work hard, Ty, I work fuckin’ hard to give you and your Mom nice things, I go away for work and come home and I get this?” He sucked in breath, his face twisted with rage, gearing up for the worst part and he continued. “And three is you drugging Joe fuckin’ Callahan’s daughter in order to get in her pants.”
Layne had been right. Tyler had been hiding something and what he’d been hiding was that Cosgrove gave him the drug to frame Jasper. He was supposed to give it to Keira, lead her away, get her in a compromising position, “find her” and tell everyone, including the cops, he saw Jas do it. Considering he’d given her Rohypnol, even Keira wouldn’t have known who slipped her the drug or what happened to her because she wouldn’t have remembered. Jasper would have been fucked, his future ruined, his reputation destroyed and he’d lose his girl.
Cosgrove didn’t go so far as to tell Tyler to compromise Keira, just to remove her shirt and undo her jeans. Under not-so-delicate pressure from Colt and we’re-all-men-we-get-it bullshitting from Sully, Tyler had given up that he felt this was a golden opportunity he wasn’t going to pass up. His intention was to take advantage of Keira who he suggested, lamely and by no means convincing anyone in that room, had a thing for him.
What he didn’t plan on was that Jasper and Keira were as tight as they were and Keira wasn’t big on leaving her boy’s side so she didn’t except to go to the bathroom and, on the way back, accept an ill-advised shot after which she wasted no time in getting back to her boyfriend. He also didn’t plan on Jasper turning the tables and enhancing his reputation by publicly taking care of his girl.
The door opened and Sully and Colt walked in but Cal and Layne didn’t move, Cal probably couldn’t move for fear he’d commit murder.
Tyler’s head came up, “But Dad –”
Travis Berger leaned forward and roared, “Shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ, whose kid are you?” Tyler blanched and Travis threw his hands out then clenched them in fists. “You drugged a girl for fuck’s sake! Who does that?”
“Dad, Coach Cosgrove said –”
“I don’t give a fuck what that twat said. Jesus, Ty, Jesus, the man beats his wife and kid. Jesus. You see a man like that, that man hands you an illegal substance, you call the fuckin’ cops, you do not take direction from him! Fuckin’ shit.” Travis shook his head but his eyes didn’t leave his son. “Jesus fuckin’ shit. What do I even do with you? I gotta deal with you and I don’t even wanna look at you.”
Tyler’s face crumpled and Layne knew he was going to cry. He didn’t need to see that shit so he forced his eyes away, reached out to flip the switch to shut off the audio and looked at Colt.
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he asked and Colt nodded.
“Yeah, man, but you don’t know what I know,” Colt replied and Layne felt Cal move to position himself at Layne’s side.
“What do you know?” Cal growled and Colt and Sully looked at him.
“Hendrick’s County Hospital had seven admissions last night, six females, one male. All unconscious or incoherent on admission for reasons unknown until the test results came back and all of them had been roofied. Last, all of them had been drinkin’ at J&J’s Saloon,” Sully answered.
Layne shook his head. Cal planted his fists on his hips.
“Was Cosgrove seen at J&J’s?” Cal asked.
“Yep, Cheryl clocked him, pointed him out to Darryl and Darryl showed him the door. That said, it was Saturday, it was a madhouse as usual and Cheryl, Morrie, who was also on, nor Darryl know how long he was there before Darryl chucked his ass out,” Colt answered.
“So, Cosgrove is metin’ out payback. I confronted him, Cal’s providin’ safe harbor for his wife and kid and you’re both sittin’ sentry, that the play?” Layne asked but he knew, that fucking dick, he knew.
“That’s my guess,” Colt replied.
“Goes without sayin’, I want his ass in a cell,” Cal snarled.
“Goes without sayin’,” Colt agreed.
“Also goes without sayin’ I want that punk-ass piece of shit in that room to face some serious as fuck consequences,” Cal went on, jerking a finger to the observation window.
“Goes without sayin’,” Colt repeated.
“Good news on that is, it’s pretty clear his Dad’s feelin’ much the same way,” Sully murmured.
“No, Sully, he’s not. He’s not feelin’ the same thing I’m feelin’ right… fuckin’… now.” Cal’s voice was a scary whisper.
“I get you, man,” Sully whispered back but his whisper was conciliatory. “I’m just sayin’ you won’t have a battle on your hands on top of all this shit. He’s not gonna fight his son’s side ‘cause he knows his son doesn’t have a side. He didn’t step in once when we were questioning him. He’s gonna let that boy swing.”
Cal was silent and so was the rest of the room, everyone stuck with pretty fucking unhappy thoughts.
Sully broke the silence. “Got shit to do. A bulletin to put out. Bar patrons to interview. Shit like that. Am I gonna be able to get down to that or am I gonna get a busted lip and split knuckles losin’ my fight to lock down you three badasses?”
Layne and Colt instantly relaxed, Colt’s lips even formed a small smile.
Cal didn’t think anything was funny. Then again, Cal’s stepdaughter narrowly missed getting raped the night before. It was going to take awhile before Joe Callahan cracked a smile.
“We’re good, Sul, do your work,” Colt muttered, Sully studied Cal, must have read what he wanted to read, he nodded and walked out.
Cal turned to Layne. “You straight with your kid?”
“Yep,” Layne answered.
“You gonna share that shit?” he jerked a thumb at the observation window.
“Not sure about that,” Layne replied because he wasn’t sure. He shared what Tyler Berger and Adrian Cosgrove had planned, Jasper would be uncontrollable. He knew it because that shit happened to Layne, he’d be uncontrollable.