The Reckless Oath We Made(109)

“What is this?” I said.

“Please, you can hate me all you want, but please, will you deliver that to him? If I mail it, they won’t give it to him, but you can go to his trial.” I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to say and, since I didn’t say no, LaReigne kept talking. “I know I’ll never see him again or talk to him again. I accept that. But please, will you do me this one favor?”





CHAPTER 53





Rhys



Somebody must have given my name to the police, because a U.S. marshal came to interview me. I kept waiting for the guilt to kick in and make me confess what I knew, but my drive for self-preservation was too strong. After an hour of saying, “I don’t know,” repeatedly, I said, “There are white supremacists in the SCA, and some of the HMB groups. Not a lot, but some. People who think the Middle Ages were full of white people.”

“Do you believe Gentry Frank is involved with them?” the marshal said.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. Gentry would never get involved with people like that. I’m just saying maybe that’s how he got the information about where those guys were.”

After that, it seemed like every news site did a think piece or an exposé about the SCA, historical medieval battles, and white supremacists. Some of them played Gentry and Edrard up like heroes. These two plucky kids armed with only a sword and a bow who went to rescue a hostage. Other pieces made them out to be the punch line to a joke. These two idiots who went to fight white supremacists armed with only a sword and a bow.

Somebody must have given the news outlets pictures of Gentry and Edrard from a tournament, because they started running a photo of them in armor. Edrard looked like a jolly elf, laughing and wearing ribbons in his beard. Gentry looked every inch the brooding killer, all in black with a bloody nose, staring past the camera.

Once, I saw an interview with Gentry’s biological brother, Brand. He looked nervous but eager to get his fifteen minutes.

“Well, you know he’s got autism, and he’s like schizo or something,” he said, grinning at the female reporter. “He’s pretty weird and he talks like Oh my lady dost think something. Like that.”

A few times, I saw Zee on the news, when some reporter was trying to get her to make a comment. She never did, unless you count words that have to be bleeped on television.

I got calls from reporters, too, but I never agreed to be interviewed. I wanted less to do with the story, not more. When Gentry’s lawyer called me, wanting to talk about testifying at his trial, I was floored. Obviously, as a friend, I owed him something, but I didn’t plan to pay that debt by perjuring myself.

Plenty of times, I’d thought about calling Zee and talked myself out of it, but that night I did. I got her voicemail.

“This is Zhorzha Trego. If you’re law enforcement or someone connected to the legal system, please leave me a message. If you’re a reporter, no, I don’t do interviews. If you’re a criminal law student, I still don’t do interviews. If you’re a creep who’s in love with my sister, get a life. If you’re calling for some other reason, leave a message.”

I’d forgotten how sexy her voice was. Husky, half bored, half amused. I hung up and sent her a text, asking her to call me. It was almost midnight when she did, and I could hear bar noise in the background.

“For real, this is Rhys?” she said. “How’d you get my number?”

“Gentry gave it to me that weekend at Bryn Carreg. I was trying to hit on his girlfriend, and he gave me your number.”

“I wasn’t his girlfriend, and he’s trusting like that,” she said. As though I were the one who’d taken advantage of Gentry’s trusting nature.

“His lawyer called to ask me to be a character witness for his trial. Did she call you?”

“You’re kidding, right? You think anybody would want me as a character witness?” She laughed. Then to somebody else: “Yeah, that keg’s almost empty.”

“So, it’s just not your problem?” I said.

“I didn’t say that, but you’re his friend, and I’m the person who fucked up his whole life.”

“And what the hell am I supposed to say in court?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you could say that Gentry is a really kind, decent person, who was trying to help somebody. Look, I gotta go.”

“Wow, it’s true what they say. Redheads really don’t have souls. I cannot believe—”

She hung up on me.

I worried about it for nothing, because a couple weeks after Gentry’s lawyer called me, I read in the news that Gentry had taken a plea deal. There wasn’t going to be a trial.





CHAPTER 54





Zee



I should have said no. I didn’t owe LaReigne any goddamn favors. After what she’d done, I didn’t owe her anything, but I tried to remember that not everything is about what you owe or what you pay. If nothing else, that was the lesson I should’ve learned from Gentry.

So I took the envelope and I carried it around in my purse for two months, waiting for the trial to start. Every once in a while I’d take it out and look at it. Tague. Sometimes I thought about opening it and reading the letter. A few times, I thought about throwing it away.