Matthew wasn’t at all surprised when the cops let Derek go.
He wasn’t even sure who’d made the call—maybe Rabi, or maybe an unseen bystander—but moments after Rabi had fled, the road had been full of flashing red and blue lights. Eshaan Hashmi had been declared dead and was being zipped into a body bag when Sheriff McCaskill’s car pulled up.
Sheriff McCaskill was one of Dad’s friends. He knew the family. He knew Derek was a good man, not the type to pick fights or get violent. If he fired a gun, it was either at a piece of paper, a deer, or someone who was threatening him and his loved ones. Matthew had no idea what Derek Sheriff McCaskill thought he knew, but it sure wasn’t the one Matthew had grown up with.
Either way, McCaskill made the call, and as Eshaan’s body was taken from the scene, the sheriff clapped Derek gently on the arm. “You go get that bump on your head checked out, okay, son? Then I want all three of you to come by the station in the morning so we can get your statements. Sound good?”
Derek smiled. “I’ll do that. Thanks.”
McCaskill eyed the wound on Derek’s head, which the EMTs had cleaned up and glued. “You sure you don’t need an ambulance?”
“Nah.” Derek waved a hand. “My brothers can take me. The hospital isn’t far.” He was steadier on his feet now. The blow to his head had apparently stunned him, but only for a minute or two.
“All right.” McCaskill squeezed Derek’s shoulder. “You boys take care tonight, all right?”
Matthew gritted his teeth. He knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. McCaskill should’ve taken their full statements right now while everything was fresh in their minds. He should’ve separated them. Made them each relay the events without giving them a chance to get their story straight. Arrested all of them, or at least Derek, until everything was sorted out.
But he hadn’t. McCaskill took them at their collective word when Nate and Derek insisted that Eshaan had attacked them and that Derek had shot him to save his brother. Instead of handcuffs, Derek was given an ice pack, and McCaskill and the EMTs and the other cops had treated all three of them like the rattled victims of a terrible act of violence.
The whole time, Matthew couldn’t say a word. He was surrounded by people who hated the Hashmi family and the Muslim community, and there was a good chance all or most of them were packing heat. And even if he hadn’t been worried about even more violence, he was too sick and too shocked by what had happened tonight. He was too scared for Rabi’s safety.
And he knew exactly why his brothers hadn’t mentioned Rabi to McCaskill—to keep Matthew on a short leash. Deep down, without any of them saying a word, he understood that they were keeping that card close to the vest to keep Matthew quiet.
Say one word about what happened, they warned with their eyes, and we’ll throw your man under the bus so fast your head will spin.
Whose word do you think they’ll take? Ours, or a Muslim sympathizer and his gay Muslim lover?
The whole time, Matthew desperately wanted to text Rabi and make sure he was all right, but his phone was still gone. His brothers had refused to give it back to him, and he wasn’t going to argue about it in front of McCaskill. No point in raising questions. Not yet, anyway.
When all was said and done, while the coroner drove off with Eshaan’s body and the EMTs finished their paperwork, the sheriff wished them all a good evening and let them go as if they hadn’t just been involved in a murder. No wonder the Arbor Hills Sheriff’s Department had endorsed their dad in the election. They probably didn’t like Emir Hashmi’s anticorruption platform.
“You going to be okay to walk?” Nate asked Derek as they started away from the scene. “Or you want me to go get the car?”
“I’m fine.” Derek winced as he pressed the ice pack against his head. The medics had mopped up most of the blood, so even with his badly stained clothes, he looked less horrifying. He’d have a hell of a bump there tomorrow, though. Probably three. The EMTs wanted to take Derek to the hospital—they were both concerned about how badly he’d hit his head—but he’d insisted he didn’t want to go to the hospital yet. Matthew knew what that meant. Derek wasn’t finished with Rabi. He could deal with his head later. Right now he wanted blood.
Nate just shrugged, and the three of them started walking away from the flashing lights and bloody pavement.
When they were safely out of earshot, Nate broke the silence. “I don’t get it, Matthew.” He shook his head. “I mean, if you gotta be a fag, whatever. But hooking up with one of those goat-fucking—”
“Stop it,” Matthew said through his teeth. “You know nothing about him or his family.”
“We know everything we need to know,” Derek slurred. “We know they’re . . . we know they’re . . .”
Matthew cocked his head. Racist bullshit aside, something wasn’t right about how his brother was speaking. “Uh, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Derek rubbed the side of his head gingerly. “Don’t change the . . . Look, we know the fucking Hashmis are . . .” He wavered a little. He stepped left to catch himself, but must’ve overcorrected, and he swayed back the other way.
Matthew took his arm to help steady him. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m . . .” He swayed even harder this time, and when he stepped, his knee buckled.
“Derek!” Nate grabbed his arm. Matthew tightened his grasp on the other.
Derek tried to steady himself, but both legs went out from under him, and he collapsed between Nate and Matthew. They kept him from dropping hard onto the pavement, but they couldn’t keep him upright. Derek slurred something and tried to get up, but failed.
“Go get the medics,” Nate said. “Hurry!”
Matthew didn’t hesitate, and ran back to where the EMTs were finishing up on the scene. “Hey! Hey, we need help!”
The man and woman turned toward him, and instantly jumped into action. While the man went into the ambulance—probably to grab an emergency kit or something—the woman ran with Matthew back to where Derek was lying motionless on the pavement.
The woman dropped beside him and checked his pulse and his eyes. When her partner joined her, they spoke rapidly, throwing medical terms back and forth, and their hands moved quickly. Urgently.
Matthew and Nate exchanged wide-eyed glances. Helplessly, they stood there, waiting and watching. Matthew prayed for Derek to open his eyes. He imagined Nate was doing the same.
But Derek didn’t move.
And the color kept draining from his face.
And the medics kept talking louder and moving faster and—
“Get that stretcher!” the woman barked. “We have to get him to the ED. Now.”
Suddenly everyone was moving. Talking. Shouting. A stretcher clattered and clanged. They loaded Derek onto it and hurried toward the ambulance, and just before the doors slammed shut behind them, Matthew realized someone was doing CPR on Derek.
Oh no.
Derek . . . come on . . .
Nate grabbed Matthew’s arm. “Come on!”
Numb, confused, and utterly terrified, Matthew hurried after Nate. The ambulance was long gone when they climbed into Nate’s truck, and Matthew thought he was going to be sick as the tires squealed. All he could see in his mind was the medic doing chest compressions for all he was worth. Derek lying still. Rabi covered in blood. Eshaan dropping to the pavement.
He put his hand to his mouth because he was pretty sure he was actually going to get sick. When Nate took a corner on two wheels, the motion made Matthew’s stomach lurch even harder.
It probably only took a matter of minutes to get to the hospital, but it seemed like years. Years that Matthew spent trying not to throw up as the most horrific moments of his life flashed through his brain over and over again. Distantly, he was aware that he was riding with one of the men who’d tried to kill Rabi. This was Nate’s fault. And Derek’s. And Dad’s.
And mine.
If I’d stayed away from Rabi, none of this would have happened.
Guilt seared his conscience, and so did rage and grief and fear. Acid burned the back of his throat. He wanted to tear into his brother for what he and Derek had done, but right now, he needed to know if Derek was all right. Enough blood had been spilled tonight. One man too many had already died.
So he gritted his teeth to hold back the vomit and fury, and Nate had barely parked before Matthew unbuckled his seat belt and flung open the door. He sprinted toward the emergency room entrance.
A charge nurse turned to him. “Can I—”
“Derek Swain,” Matthew blurted. “He came in an ambulance. Just a few minutes ago.”
Nate appeared beside him. “Is he all right?”
She squinted at a computer screen, but when she met Matthew’s gaze, her expression offered nothing. “Have a seat, and we’ll get you an update as soon as we can.”
Neither brother could sit. They stood in the mostly empty waiting room. Paced a little. Stood some more. Matthew stole glances at Nate, but didn’t say a word, and he could feel Nate doing the same. The blame and the anger were almost as tangible as the pungent smell of antiseptic.
At one point, Nate stopped and took out his phone. In the shakiest voice Matthew had ever heard from his older brother, Nate said, “I should call Dad.”
Matthew’s blood turned cold. He couldn’t face his father. Not now.
Rabi. I need to see Rabi. I need to make sure Rabi is okay. I need—
“Mr. Swain?” A woman’s voice spun both of them around. A nurse approached, and though her expression was placid, something in her eyes made Matthew’s heart sink.
No . . .
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”
Whatever she said after that was lost in the avalanche of emotions crashing over Matthew. Derek was dead. His brother was gone. How was it even possible for this nightmare to get worse?
“What happened?” Hysteria crept into Nate’s voice. “He was fine! He was walking, and—”
“Only an autopsy will tell us for sure,” the nurse said calmly, “but head injuries can deteriorate quickly.”
Nate sank into a chair. His shoulders trembled, but even as he cried, he barely made a sound. Still, the grief was palpable, and between the nurse’s grim expression and Nate’s tears, Matthew was all too aware of everything he didn’t feel. He should’ve felt something—anything—but he was numb. He was in shock, still struggling to process anything that had happened tonight, let alone his brother dying. He had no idea how to feel about Derek’s death or Nate’s grief. They’d instigated this. They’d ignited the violence tonight. They were his brothers, and on some level he was devastated, but on other levels . . .
Rabi. I’ve got to find Rabi.
Cold fear rushed through him. There was nothing he could do for his brothers now, but it was only a matter of time before his family knew Derek had died at the hands of a Hashmi.
They’ll blame him. His whole family. His whole community.
And their whole family and community will blame me for Eshaan.
Oh God—I need to find him.
He instinctively reached for his phone, but it was gone. Because one of his brothers had it. Shit.
Matthew gulped. “Nate.” He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Nate whirled on him.
Tears streaked Nate’s face and his red eyes were narrow with fury. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I—”
“I don’t want to see your fucking face,” Nate spat. “Get the hell out of here, you freak.”
Matthew stared at him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.
The nurse took a startled step back. “Um, should—”
“This is on your head, Matthew,” Nate snarled at him. “Derek is dead, and that’s on you and that fucking Hashmi!”
Maybe it was. Maybe.
But blaming and finger-pointing could wait. Matthew had to find Rabi and make sure he was safe.
Shakily, he said, “Give me my phone.”
Nate’s features hardened even more. He rose, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out the phone. “You mean this one?”
“Yes.” Matthew held out his hand. “Just give—”
Nate dropped it to the linoleum, stomped on it, and ground his boot heel into it.
“Damn it, Nate!” Matthew went to shove him out of the way, hoping maybe he could salvage the phone, but his brother’s hand smacked his chest and drove him back a step.
The nurse eyed Nate and Matthew uneasily.
Nate kicked the ruined phone over to Matthew. It bounced off Matthew’s shoe. As Nate stormed out of the waiting room, his own phone in his hand, Matthew leaned down to pick up what was left of his. Unsurprisingly, it was destroyed. The SIM card might be salvageable, and he’d take it to the phone store later to find out, but as it stood right now, the phone was useless.
The nurse cleared her throat. “Uh, are you . . . Is this . . .”
“I need to go.” Matthew hadn’t realized he was getting choked up until he spoke, and his voice wavered. “Unless . . . Do you need . . .”
“The police will be here soon,” the nurse said. “They’ll want to ask you questions.”
A chill ran through Matthew. The police. Questions.
It was one thing to tell Sheriff McCaskill that Derek and Rabi had fought. It would be another thing entirely now that Derek was dead. Rabi would never see the outside of a jail cell again.
Fuck. Matthew had to get to him. Right now.
And what if Rabi dropped dead too?
So, without another word to the nurse, he shoved his ruined phone into his pocket, and he ran.