“Mom? What did he say?”

“Inspector Kozara told me he was coming over to talk to us. He should be here in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Phyllis, do you know why he’s coming over?” Dad asked.

“No, he just said he’d like to come over because he has some information that he wants to discuss with us.”

Why do adults always seem to worry about things? Like, just wait until Inspector Kozara gets here. That’s when he’ll tell us whatever he has to tell us. In my opinion, stressing about what he might say isn’t useful.

We ate the tuna sandwiches Mom had made for our snack, and they were absolutely fantastic. There’s nothing like good homemade food, especially since I’d been eating hospital food for what seemed to be such a long time. When we were finished I wanted something sweet.

“Could I have something else, maybe something like a dessert, while we wait for Inspector Kozara? I’m still hungry.”

“How about a dish of ice cream and some homemade chocolate chip cookies?”

“Oh man, that sounds great. What flavor ice cream?”

“Vanilla or caramel ripple. Which would you like, Brian?”

“Caramel ripple. A big bowl, please.”

“Mmm! Sounds good to me, too,” Dad said.

Mom brought out a big plastic container filled with her fantastic chocolate chip cookies, the ones she makes with pecans and chocolate chunks. Dad got the ice cream and Mom set the table with three bowls and spoons. The ice cream was fantastic and the cookies were even better. That reminded me of something.

“You know, I don’t think either hospital served me ice cream. I got sherbet a couple of times when I was still on a liquid diet, but never ice cream. I wonder why. It’s easy to eat and it tastes so good. Especially my favorite, caramel swirl.”

“Well, you can have all you’d like. You’ve lost weight, Brian. I’m going to make sure you get good nourishing meals every day now that you’re home.”

I smiled. That’s just what I’d expect my mom to say.

When we were finished I got up to help clean off the table and Mom just about freaked. “Sit down, Brian! You’re not to overexert yourself, so take it easy and let us wait on you.”

Dad grinned. “And who, Phyllis, is the ‘us’ who’s going to wait on Brian?”

“I’m the head ‘us’,” she replied, “and you, Greg, are the kitchen helper. That means you’re going to get things I need while I’m cooking then put them away when I’m done with them, and you’re going to do the after meal cleanup.”

“I don’t know. It sounds like a job where I’d need a lot more training and experience.”

“I’ll do the training, you do the grunt work. Okay?”

Dad just laughed, and turned to look at me. “See what’s in store for you, Brian? All I have to say is your only choice is going to be to capitulate and do as you’re ordered.” That made me laugh.

We went into the family room to wait for Inspector Kozara. Dad turned on the TV but the only things on were soap operas and talk shows. The time seemed to drag, though it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes until we finally heard the doorbell.

Dad stood. “I’ll answer the door.” He left the room and returned with Inspector Kozara. We did the ‘hello how are you’ bits, then he looked at me.

“Brian, how are you holding up?”

I thought that was sort of a strange question. Whatever. “I’m feeling fine, I’m getting better, and the doctor at the OU Hospital let me come home after being there only one night.”

“Good, good.” He looked at my folks, then at me again, then at my folks. It seemed to me that he was nervous.

“Well. I have several things to tell you. First, the District Attorney went to court to obtain the protective order, but the judge ruled against issuing the order. The reason given was that it would impede the defense in this case. However, he ordered that the information be provided to the defense attorney within forty-eight hours. Essentially that’s a short protective order, and is much better than what the D.A. expected. At the end of the forty-eight hours, which is noon on Thursday, the defense attorneys must be told where Brian was found, the extent of his injuries, where he was treated, where he is now, and his current condition.

“What they are not going to be pleased to hear is that there are Federal charges for kidnapping of a minor, moving a kidnapping victim across state lines, and that the charges against Quinten Santoni and Tom Calloway have been amended to include first degree felony rape of a minor. The second degree felony rape charges against Grant Aikers are being withdrawn. The rape charges have been amended because we received the results from the DNA tests. Brian was raped by Quinten Santoni and by Tom Calloway. There were sufficient samples from the rape kit to clearly identify each of those boys.”

I took a deep breath. “Whoa. I don’t understand any of that. But wouldn’t it have been sort of mixed up together? How could you tell?”

“I don’t know the technical detail, but let’s just say that the reports we received from the DNA test on the SAFE kit were clear and conclusive.”

Mom had her own question. “What about Grant Aikers? You said he didn’t participate in the rape? And you’re positive?”

“Yes, we’re positive because there was no DNA evidence that he participated in the rape.”

“Where is he? You said he was missing. Has he been found?”

“No. We’ve contacted everyone on the list of Grant Aikers’ friends and relatives that his stepfather has given us. We’re continuing to search for him, and have sent officers to make in-person calls on some on the list to get more information about him.

“That brings up a related question for you. Have you contacted an alarm company to have a system installed here at your home?”

Dad replied to his question. “We already have an alarm system for intrusion and fire. I’ve contacted the company and they’ll be here on Friday to install high definition video cameras and lights at strategic locations around our property. We’ve also hired John Gibbs, the attorney who will represent Brian during depositions and at the trial. We want to know if Brian is asked to give a deposition, can we decline? If we can’t decline and he does have to give a deposition, there are some conditions that need to be agreed to by the party that’s asking for the deposition. The first is that we want the deposition to be done here at home because of Brian’s condition, not in some office where he’d not be able to lie down if he needed to do that. Also, we want his attorney to be present and we want to be present as well. Is all of that okay?”

“Mr. Anderson, your questions about the deposition are best answered by someone from the District Attorney’s office. I was asked to give you Ian Kilpatrick’s business card. He’s an assistant District Attorney and will be your contact from that office. I suggest that you phone him this afternoon and schedule a meeting. He’ll be able to answer all of your questions. However, I recommend that you have Brian’s attorney attend that meeting both to meet Ian and to ask other questions you haven’t thought of yet.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll call John Gibbs today and get his schedule, and then call…” Dad looked at the card Inspector Kozara had given him, “Ian Kilpatrick.” I hope I can set up a meeting with them, preferably here at home, before anything else intervenes.”

“One thing I can tell you about depositions is that they are at the convenience of the person being deposed. You also have the right to have your own attorney, actually Brian’s attorney, at the deposition hearing.”

“Thanks for that information. Especially about being at our, actually Brian’s, convenience.”

“One other thing. I can’t say if this will happen in Brian’s case, but there may not be a deposition request by the defense. It depends on the strength of the physical evidence that’s been collected and the plausibility of the statements of the victims and witnesses. Brian’s statements are very plausible, and they led to physical evidence that would not have been discovered without his statements. A deposition by the defense team is likely to further strengthen the prosecution’s case. It’s possible the D.A. will want to take a deposition for that very reason, to further strengthen their case.”

“Since my name and address and all that other stuff is going to be given to the defense lawyers, can I start having friends over to visit?”

“I don’t see why not, Brian. But wait until after Thursday, please.”

I grinned. “Thanks, Brian.”

“What is this,” Dad asked, “another Brian Mutual Appreciation Society get together?”

“Jeez, Dad!”

“Brian! Don’t swear.” Mom was always on me about swearing. I guess my life is back to normal. Sort of.

 “Will the press be given this information?” Mom asked. “I don’t want a bunch of reporters and TV cameras around our house all of the time. I’m worried about Brian’s picture ending up on TV and in the newspapers creating a dangerous situation for him.”

“He’s fifteen years old and a minor in Oklahoma. TV and the newspapers cannot show Brian’s picture or print his address. When you meet with Ian Kilpatrick, talk to him about this. He’ll contact the press and make them understand that Brian is off limits and that we don’t want them on your doorstep all the time.”

“But what happens if I have to go see the doctor, or to school, or to visit a friend? If they’re out there how do we keep them from taking a picture or a video of me?”

“I know it sounds crude, but you should wear a hoodie zipped all the way up and large dark glasses so you can’t be recognized. Do you have a hoodie with you high school’s name written on it, the larger the better?”

“Uh… yeah. Lemme go see if I can find it.”

I went upstairs to my bedroom and Mom joined me.

“I don’t think I hung it on a hanger. I remember I tried that and it kept slipping off. The only way to keep it on the hanger was to zip it up. So I think it’s in one of my dresser drawers.”

Mom stood there while I crouched and tried to open the bottom drawer.

“It’s going to be hard to open these drawers with one hand.”

“Get up and I’ll open the drawers and go through them while you watch to see when we find that hoodie. Was it heavy material or light?”

“Heavy. It’s made out of that fleece stuff, I think.”

I got up and sat on the end of my bed. She bent down and opened the bottom drawer.

“What color is it? Looking for a color will make it easier to find.”

“It’s sky blue and the letters are black with a white outline.”

Mom pulled it out of the drawer.

“That’s it. You found it right away.”

“One of the reasons it was so easy to find, besides the color, is that you keep your drawers very neat, Brian. Keep up the good work.” Mom smiled and handed me the hoodie.

That made me blush. I always do that when someone compliments me.

“Now I’ve gotta figure out if I can get it on with my left arm inside the hoodie.”

“That should be easy with me helping you. Raise your right arm.”

I did that and she slipped it over my arm and my head. I pulled the hood over my head and the bandage, and zipped it closed up to my neck. That part would be easy for me because the zipper only went about halfway down and I could zip it up and down using my right hand.

I opened one of the top drawers and pulled out my big aviator sunglasses and put them on. I pulled the hood out as far as it would reach, and tightened the pull tab so the hood wouldn’t fly off in the wind.

“How’s that look?”

Mom stood there grinning. “Fantastic. Take a look for yourself.”

I stepped over to the mirrored closet door and couldn’t believe that it was me. I was almost entirely covered. Anyone taking a picture or video of me wouldn’t see anything.

“I want to try something.” I pulled my right arm inside the hoodie and walked around. Then I struggled a little but was able to get my right arm back into the sleeve.

I grinned at Mom. “I can even go armless incognito. This is an XXL instead of an XL because I didn’t pay attention to the size when I bought it at school. It was in a box marked XL but I guess someone tossed this XXL one into the wrong box after looking at it. Whatever, it really works great to hide me, don’t you think?”

She laughed. “Well, all I have to say is that right here it makes you look like a stalker in a bright blue hoodie. Do a lot of kids at Deer Valley wear these hoodies?”

“Yeah, maybe half the guys wear ‘em. And even quite a few girls. They help kids blend in with the crowd.”

When I said ‘blend in with the crowd’ it reminded me of something. “Say, what happened to that helmet that I was supposed to wear every time I left the house? They had me try it on at the hospital and said it was made to fit me exactly.”

“Oh, my! I guess I forgot to tell you. When I was talking to Dr. Linscomb about your release he said you wouldn’t need the helmet. I brought it home anyway, just in case you might need it for some reason. I put it in the top of the linen closet in the hall.”

“Okay. Then I guess I won’t have to worry about it.”

“One less thing to worry about is good. Now that’s straightened out, let’s go down and show off your disguise to dad and Inspector Kozara.”

“Lemme pull my right arm back inside first.”

I did that and we went back down to the family room. I walked in and said, “Ta da!”

Dad started laughing and then Inspector Kozara joined him.

“Brian, you’ll never be recognized when soomeone sees you or if they take your picture. Make sure to tell your friends when they come over to wear their hoodies too. Heck, if several friends of yours come over you could go out with them and they’d never figure out who was who,” Inspector Kozara told me.

“Thanks, I think I look pretty cool this way.”

Dad added, “I like the way you’re hiding both arms inside the hoodie. That way they’ll think you’re just keeping your arms warm and won’t know that your left arm is broken.”

“Alright, I have to get back to headquarters and check in. Mr. Anderson, give your attorney and Ian Kilpatrick a call and meet with them as soon as possible. Let me know what you’ve decided. Keep the cell phones I gave you handy. And Brian, keep yours with you at all times if you leave the house.”

We said our goodbyes and I went upstairs to my bedroom and laid down. I looked over at the clock and it was three-thirty, and then I fell asleep.

I felt shaking and I woke up. Dad was sitting on the edge of my bed smiling at me.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Mom’s got dinner ready. We’re having meatloaf and mashed potatoes with cauliflower and carrots. Are you hungry enough to get up and go down to dinner?”

I stretched and yawned.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how comfortable it is to be on my own bed. For once I really feel rested. But, I feel hungry too. I’m ready to eat!”

Before we go down I want to tell you that we’ve set up a meeting here with John Gibbs, your attorney, and it will be tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. Then Ian Kilpatrick will join us at ten to talk to us about depositions and keeping the press away from all of us. I assume they’ll have a lot of questions, too.”

“That’s good. That way I won’t be tired like it would if the meetings were going to be tonight. Is that it?”

“Yes. Now wash your hands then come on down and have some dinner.”

“Okay, Dad.” He got to the door and I called out, “Dad, I love you.”

He turned and smiled. “I love you too, Brian. And your mother does as well. But you know that already. You’re a wonderful son, and we’re so glad you’re back home with us.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Dinner was absolutely totally magnificently wonderful. I love Mom’s meatloaf. It’s not dry like the compressed sawdust they serve at school, and she puts bacon over the top and it gets crunchy and delicious. I like to put loads of butter on my mashed potatoes, then lots of fresh ground pepper on top. I like veggies too, and carrots and cauliflower are two of my favorites. Dinner was wonderful, and Mom topped it off with a chocolate cake with chocolate fudge icing. Now I know what it’s like to finally eat a home cooked meal after being in the hospital and eating what they call food for almost a week. I hope I never ever have to go through that again.

After we were finished eating I stretched and grinned.

“Man, that was delicious, Mom. I think if I eat like this for few more days I’ll catch up on the weight I lost. And maybe gain a few pounds, too.”

“You’re skinny as a rail, Brian. You need to eat good, healthy meals to get yourself back where you should be.”

Of course, Dad had to add his idea to this plan. “You’re also going to have to start doing some physical therapy to get your muscles back to where they were. Phyllis, you’d better call that doctor he saw yesterday and find out when Brian can start an exercise program. If the doctor agrees, he can use the treadmill in the basement and start out at a slow speed and a short time, then increase them as he’s able.”

“The doctor prepared a checkout package for Brian,” Mom said, “and a physical therapist is going to phone and set up an appointment to see him and spend some time planning easy exercises to get started. The therapist will come to the house and work with Brian three days a week for two weeks. After that Brian will go to the hospital’s Physical Therapy Center on a regular schedule to do approved exercises that they’ll set up for him.”

First, I hate being talked about when I’m sitting right there listening. Second, I started to ask why I’m the only one who didn’t know anything about doing physical therapy. Then I realized that all I’d done since I got home is eat a snack and meet with Inspector Kozara and go to bed and eat dinner so Mom really didn’t have time to talk to me about it. Besides, Dad didn’t know either. Thinking about that helped me figure out what and how to ask.

“You’ll let me talk to the physical therapy person, right?”

“Of course, Brian. I would have talked to you about it as soon as I read it except it seemed we were so busy doing other things I forgot.”

“Hey, no problem.”

Mom and Dad cleaned off the dinner table and loaded the dishwasher, then we went into the family room.

“Can we watch Glee? It seems like I missed it every time it was on when I was in the hospital.”

“Sure,” Dad replied and handed me the remote. “Turn on the TV. It’s on channel 25.”

Glee was just over when the doorbell rang.

“I wonder who that is,” Dad asked. “It’s sort of late for a visitor.”

I heard some talking, quite a bit in fact, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. The next thing that happened is Grant Aikers walked in followed by Dad.

“Uh, hi Brian. I know you’re wondering why I’m here. I want to say I’m real sorry for what happened a couple of weeks ago. Quin went off the deep end, and I got dragged into it even though I didn’t want to be there. When it looked like you were really hurt bad and Quin said we had to go somewhere and get rid of you I bailed. I told him he was crazy, and I didn’t want any part of it. I left and went home. Then I was arrested and my grandma made bail for me. I’ve been staying with her in Guthrie ever since. I left a note for my stepfather saying that’s where I’d be, but then I heard that the cops were looking for me because he told them I’d run off. That’s a crock ‘cause he for sure knew where I was. He just wants to get rid of me.”

He paused and took a deep breath.

“After we finish talking I’d like your dad to call the police and say I’m here at your house and want to turn myself in. Then I’m going to talk to the D.A. and do a plea bargain and tell everything that happened. I want to finally do something honorable, and I wanted to tell you first and apologize. That’s about it, I guess.”

“I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve really been angry at all three of you guys, though mostly at Quin. What I’ve wanted is for all of you to be caught and tried and convicted and thrown in jail. But you know, it takes some real balls for you to come here and tell us your side of things.”

Grant and Dad were still standing. Dad pointed to the chair directly across from the couch. “Grant, have a seat.” Grant looked scared, more like a younger kid than the guy I remembered who pulled me into Quin’s car.

“Why’d you guys decide to mess with me? What’d I do to any of you?”

“We didn’t really decide to do it, it just sort of happened. Quin saw you walking and there was no one around. He said you were a faggot and we oughta do something ‘cause there were too many faggots going to Deer Valley.”

I interrupted him. “I’m not gay!”

“I didn’t think so. You looked like a normal guy to me, and I told that to Quin then he asked me if I was a faggot lover and I said no so he said I should shut up ‘cause he wanted to teach you a lesson.”

“What happened next?” Dad asked.

“Well, when we got to that chicken shed at his folk’s house you… uh, Brian put up a pretty good fight. He got Quin a good one right in the balls and that musta really hurt ‘cause that’s when Quin went off the deep end. He hit you a couple time with a hammer and you went down and were out. He and Tom was kicking you in the chest and stomping on your face and your arm. Then Quin said he was gonna screw you….” He saw the expression on Mom’s face. “Oh, excuse me ma’am for using bad language but I don’t know how else to tell it.”

“You just go ahead and finish with your story, and use whatever language you need to tell it,” she replied.

“Thank you, ma’am. So anyway Tom agreed with Quin that… uh… screwing you was a good idea, so they pulled off your pants and went to it. Quin actually went inside you, and Tom just uh… did it all over you. Tom wanted to know why I wasn’t doing anything and I told him what they were doin’ was queer and that wasn’t for me. That pissed off Quin and he said I was a faggot lover. I told him he was the one that screwed an unconscious kid, not me. He grabbed that same hammer he smashed you with and I pulled my knife and he told me to get the hell out so I did. Then he came out of that chicken shed and told me that all three of us were going to take you somewhere where nobody would find you and dump you. I said to hell with that, that he was crazy and I didn’t want any part of it. I left and walked home.

“The whole thing was a horrible mess, and I knew I’d be in trouble with the law. I’d never done anything before, and I didn’t rape you, but I was like an accessory or whatever they call it. I walked home and went to school and just waited around for the shit to hit the fan. After a couple of days Quin was walking around like some stinkin’ hero, big goddamn man on campus. He boasted about takin’ care of a faggot. He was so sure he’d never get caught. They came and arrested all three of us on Saturday. I called my grandma and talked to my grandpa, he’d been a lawyer and a justice of the peace, and he told me he’d bail me out and he and grandma came and did that then drove me home. I got some clothes and stuff and left a note for my stepfather, and we went to Guthrie where I’ve been stayin’ until today when I heard that my goddamn stepfather told the cops I’d left and he didn’t know where.”

The descriptions of how I’d been beaten and the rape and everything else Grant told us brought it all back to me. Hearing the details was the worst because I’d been unconscious and it was all new to me. One thing was cleared up for me, now I knew why they could tell I’d been raped by Quin and Tom. But Tom hadn’t really raped me, so I wanted to ask Inspector Kozara about that. Also, in a way, I felt sorry for Grant. He didn’t seem like the brightest kid around, and he actually seemed to be sorry.

Dad stood up. “Should I make that call to the Edmond police, Grant?”

“Yes sir, please.” Dad asked me if I had the cellphone I’d gotten from Inspector Kozara. I gave it to him and he pressed a key. After a few seconds he was talking to someone, and that conversation lasted at least a couple of minutes. When he returned he looked at Grant.

“Inspector Kozara of the Edmond Police Department will be here in about ten minutes. He’ll be met here by a patrolman who will arrest you for violating the terms of your bail and take you to police headquarters where you’ll be charged and put in jail.”

Everyone sat down and there was no conversation. We just sat watching the hands on the clock on the mantel. When the doorbell rang everybody sat up suddenly, like we weren’t expecting it. I looked at Grant and he looked scared.

Dad stood, and so did Grant. “Grant, I think we should have Inspector Kozara come in so you can tell him the same story you told us. Having us here will make it less confrontational than if you were alone in an interview room at the police station.”

“Thanks, Mr. Anderson.”

Dad went to the front door and led Inspector Kozara and the patrolman in. Grant stood watching the Inspector walk into our family room and I could see that the patrolman was trembling.

“I think you two should sit down. Inspector Kozara, Grant told us an interesting story that sounds plausible. I think you should listen to what he has to say before you arrest him. Alright?”

Inspector Kozara stared at Grant. “Alright. Do you agree to let me record what you have to say?”

“Yes. I want it on the record that I’ve told you the whole story and that it’s the truth.”

Inspector Kozara did the same sort of intro that he and the other police had done with me when they interviewed me in the hospital.

Grant told pretty much the story he’d told us. Inspector Kozara had a lot of questions he asked along the way. We heard more about Grant’s stepfather, about what was in the note telling him that he was going to his grandparents’ house in Guthrie, and where he left it for his stepfather to find. He said when he heard from a friend this afternoon that the police were looking for him, he talked to his grandfather who was a lawyer. His grandfather advised him to turn himself in, so his grandmother dropped him off at our house and was waiting outside while he apologized to Brian first. Inspector Kozara went outside and spoke to Grant's grandmother and returned after a few minutes. He said that she identified herself and confirmed that she took Grant to his stepfather’s house. She helped him get his clothes and school books, and that she saw the note he’d left for his stepfather. She said he’d been staying with her and his grandfather.

Inspector Kozara asked if his stepfather knew Grant’s grandparents, and Grant said sure, and that he saw them every Christmas and they’d visit both at Grant’s house and his grandparent’s house a couple of other times each year. Inspector Kozara then asked Grant if he had a cellphone and Grant said yes. He asked if Grant’s stepfather knew if Grant had a cellphone and if so if he knew the number. Grant said of course, he paid the bill each month and sometimes he’d call Grant on his cellphone.

“Grant, I can’t tell you that you’re not in trouble because you are. But you have two things going for you. First, your stepfather didn’t tell us that you’d left him a note letting him know that you’d gone to your grandparent’s house. He didn’t give us your cellphone number and he didn’t include your grandparents on the list of relatives he gave us. Your grandmother corroborates your story about staying with them. So I’m not going to arrest you for fleeing or violating the terms of your bail. You’re free to go. However, you should get an attorney to represent you if you don’t have one. Talk to him or her to plan your plea bargain then meet with the prosecutor from the District Attorney’s office. Here’s his card. Also be sure to tell the prosecutor where you’re staying and if you move somewhere else.”

I looked at Grant and he looked relieved. He shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t know why my stepfather wouldn’t tell you that I was staying with my grandpa and grandma.”

“That’s something I plan on asking him. Will he be home now?”

“I guess, normally he’s at home in the evenings.”

“Good. I think I’ll drop in unannounced and have a little chat with him.”

We said our goodbyes and Inspector Kozara left. He looked pissed, and I think Grant’s stepfather was about to find himself in a big bunch of trouble.

“Grant, do you have an attorney?” my dad asked.

“My grandpa. Only thing is, it’s hard for him to get around ‘cause he’s in a wheelchair. I think he’s a really good lawyer, and he told me he’s kept his license so he can represent me. I can’t afford a lawyer otherwise, and my stepfather told me I’d have to use a public defender.”

“Will you still be staying at your grandparent’s home, and you have a way to get there?” Mom asked him.

“Yeah. My grandma’s waiting outside in her car to see what was going to happen. I’d better get out there. She’ll be so glad when she finds out I’m not being arrested and that my bail is still okay, and she’ll be so pissed at my stepfather for not telling the police that I’m staying with her and Grandpa.”

“Why don’t you ask her in? She can have a cup of coffee or tea before she drives you home.”

“I think she’ll want to get home to be with Grandpa. By the time we get back it’ll be after his bedtime.”

He turned and looked at me.

“Brian, I know it don’t mean much, but I am sorry for what we did to you and my part in it. I’m going to have to pay for what I did, and that’s okay because that’s what I deserve.”

I got up and walked over to where he was sitting. I held out my hand and grinned. He looked at me like he didn’t believe what I just did, but he got up and we shook hands. A couple of tears ran down his cheeks.

“You’re a good guy, Brian. I’m really sorry….”

He turned away from me and I could see that he was crying. I pulled him into a one-arm hug and he put his arms around me loosely to avoid my cast and we hugged for a few seconds.

He pulled back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I don’t deserve you and your folks being nice to me. Thanks. It means a lot to me, that you don’t just hate me like you probably should be doing.”

“The only guy I really hate right now is Quin. Him I can never forgive. Tom’s not far behind. You didn’t go along with the rape or dumping me out in nowhere. I’m glad you’re going to do a plea bargain and help put Quin and Tom where they belong, in jail for a long time. Good luck, Grant. And I really do mean that.”

“You’re a nice guy, Brian. And your folks are nice too. None of this shoulda happened to you. Well, I better go ‘cause Grandma needs to get back. Once this is over and I’m outta jail maybe you can meet her.” He grinned. “She makes a mean apple pie.”

My folks said their goodbyes and we watched Grant go down our walk. There was a car parked in front of our house, and an elderly lady got out and rushed up the walk to meet him. They hugged and she wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked to the car. I was glad he had his grandparents to help him. His stepfather sounded like he must hate Grant. I wondered what happened to his mother. He never mentioned her.

When I got in bed I laid there thinking about what happened this evening. It made me happy that Grant would testify against Quin and Tom. He was an eyewitness to what went on, so it added a lot to what I’d say and the physical evidence. I smiled. This was just like a CSI show, everything was being tied together in a neat package. I wondered when the trial would happen. It couldn’t be soon enough as far as I was concerned.