Page 8 of The Guy Next Door

The first officer sends up the guy with her to retrieve my driver’s license from my bedroom, and once they’ve checked it, they let me stand up.

“Someone reported a break-in,” she says, “and the front door was open when we got here.”

“That was me,” Zane says. “I’m the one who called you. You can check my phone in my back pocket.”

He called the cops? Another weird-ass part of this that’s not making any sense.

But one of the cops checks his ID and phone, turning to the other. “He’s telling the truth. Zane Grayson. This is you?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“This your friend, Leif?” the female officer asks.

“Yes,” Zane says.

“I didn’t ask you. Kid, is Zane your friend?”

Zane closes his eyes, like he knows he’s gonna be in deep shit for what he’s just done.

“Is this your friend?” she asks again.

“No.”

He hits his forehead on the floor.

But my mind’s still spinning.

Yes, he had a gun and he grabbed me, but he didn’t hurt me.

And he told me he was going to look for someone.

And now I find outhecalled the cops?

He looks at me, that determined expression gone. His eyes are wide, desperate, pleading.

He lied about being my friend. For some reason, he doesn’t want me to tell them the truth. Maybe because it’ll get him in trouble. Now that my senses are coming back to me, it’s clear this wasn’t what I thought initially, but it’s still confusing as fuck. If someone else was here and he was trying to help, what if turning him in might get him in trouble?

Then again, what if I’m not in the right frame of mind from the trauma of everything that just happened?

This is a shit idea. I know it to my core.

Whatever the reason, I say, “Sorry, he’s not a friend, but someone I know.”

The cop’s brow creases. “You kidding me right now?”

“Sorry. I was nervous. This was a shock to me. I’ve never been around cops with guns out before.”

I notice Zane’s only a foot away from the hall console. A gun could fit under there.

“Okay, kids,” she says before introducing herself as Kendrick and her partner as Diaz. “I’d appreciate if one of you could explain to me what’s going on.”

Zane rises to his feet. “We were hanging out, and someone came in from the back door. I called the cops because Leif was taking a shower—”

“You were taking a shower while the two of you were hanging?” she asks, glancing between us. “You know it’s fine to tell me the truth. We won’t judge. I have a wonderful wife of thirteen years. It’s not a big deal.”

“We were hanging out,” he insists. “I was watching a movie in his room while he showered. I heard a sound in the house and called. And it was taking forever for you guys to come, so I went to see if there was someone here. That’s why I was in the hall.”

Zane doesn’t struggle to come up with a plausible lie, that’s for sure. But why does he need to lie? If he saw a burglar from his place, couldn’t he have told the cops that?