Page 22 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

The sterile walls of the interview room seemed to press in, the air thick with unspoken tension. The metal, utilitarian table in the center had witnessed years of similar conversations—some cooperative, some not.

The door swung open, and one of the guards stepped in, leading the scrawny teenager they’d seen earlier that morning. The kid who had been left behind, stuck in the car while the driver took off without a second thought.

No honor among thieves , Pete thought grimly.

Robert Reeves slouched into the chair, his shoulders tense, his knee bouncing under the table. Twitchy, but not the kind of twitchy that came from detox. This was nerves. Fear, maybe.

Pete had seen his file. No priors. Decent school attendance. Yet here he was, sitting across from two detectives, acting like he was about to take on the world. “Okay, Robert. You?—”

“Superman,” the kid interrupted, lifting his shaky chin in an attempt at bravado.

Pete arched a brow. “If you’re trying to say that’s your gang name, I gotta tell you—just because Christopher Reeves played Superman in a movie about forty years before you were born, that don’t mean that name works for you.”

Robert’s mouth twisted into a pout, and his tough act slipped for a second, making him look like a little kid instead of a sixteen-year-old trying to run with the big boys.

Jeremy leaned forward, arms on the table, his voice steady but firm.

“Let’s cut the shit. This is your first arrest, but it’s a doozy.

And guess what? They’ve added new charges.

You think you’re getting out on charm alone?

” He snorted. “Nah. But this is your first charge. So tell me you got at least one brain cell rattling around in that head of yours—enough to know that working with us will go a long way with the judge.”

Fear raced through Robert’s eyes, but he scoffed. “Man, I can’t talk to you. I’d be a dead man.”

Pete tilted his head, his eyes sharpening. “What makes you think that?”

Robert slouched deeper in his chair, eyes darting toward the door like he wanted to bolt. “I know how this works. In here, I keep my mouth shut and… um… maybe… I… ” He swallowed deeply. “I might be protected?” His statement ended up as more of a question.

Pete now knew the kid was in for more than he could handle. He let the silence hang for a beat before repeating, slowly, “Protected?” His voice dripped with incredulity. “You talkin’ about by your fellow gang members?”

He caught the slight shift in Robert’s posture—the way his chest deflated like the air going out of a balloon.

Pete shook his head, exhaling sharply. “Or… are you talking about your real family?”

Robert’s gaze jumped to Pete’s.

“Your mom. Maybelline Reeves. Works as a cleaner in the hospital. Steady work, decent money. Long hours, though. Makes it tough to be home when your little brother and sister get off the school bus.” Pete leaned in.

“That was something you always did, right? You’re out of school first, home in time to help out. ”

Robert’s breath froze in his lungs.

“You got a little brother. Ten years old. Richie.” Pete’s voice was low but relentless. “Does he look up to you? Think you’re a big man? What’s he gonna say when he hears his big brother got locked up?”

Robert clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze. His hands curled into fists, resting on the table. Pete noted, with some satisfaction, that they weren’t tattooed yet.

“And then there’s your sister. Sherrie. Eight years old.” Pete let the weight of his words settle before he continued. “How’s this gonna affect her?”

Robert’s shoulders stiffened. “It won’t touch her.”

“You think?” Pete snapped. “You think when the news says you’re in with a known gang member, that won’t touch her? That she won’t get called names at school? That your mom won’t have to answer questions? And your grandfather? If you believe that, you’re dumber than you look.”

Robert’s lips pressed into a tight line, his gaze locked on the table. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Pete and Jeremy didn’t rush him. They let him sit with it, let it seep in. Let him feel the weight of it all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Robert let out a slow breath. His voice was quieter now. “Look… I didn’t know what he had,” he muttered. “I didn’t know about all that shit he had stuffed in the car.”

Pete exchanged a glance with Jeremy. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And in their line of work, a start was all they needed. Pete folded his arms, his gaze locked on Robert. “So you just get in the car with a stranger you’ve never met and don’t think about what might be in the vehicle?”

Robert let out an irritated huff. “Man, you make me sound like I’m stupid.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to play it cool, but his twitchy fingers drummed against the edge of the table, betraying his nerves.

“Explain it to me.”

Robert exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

“Ciao’s been comin’ around for a while now.

Just talkin’, you know? Shootin’ the shit.

Asking me about school, about my family.

Making me feel like I mattered.” His voice dropped slightly.

“Told me he had a family now. Better than any family he ever had before.”

Pete’s eyes flicked to Jeremy before settling back on the kid. “Ciao? You mean Lashawn. Another dumbass name.”

Robert blinked in confusion.

Pete continued, “And you knew what he meant by family, didn’t you?”

Robert lifted his chin, forcing his mind back to the detectives.

“Yeah. Saw the tats on his fingers. Bloods.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but his knee kept bouncing under the table.

“My mom always told me gangs were dirty. Said to stay away from gangs. But I wasn’t doing anything. We were just talkin’.”

Jeremy leaned forward, elbows on the table. “How long were you two just talkin’?”

Robert squirmed slightly, his bravado slipping for a moment. “I dunno… couple of months, at least.”

“Did he come by on a schedule? Same days of the week? Once a week? Twice a week?” Pete pressed.

“Nah, nothin’ regular. I get off the bus first, like you said. I’d be out chillin’ with some others. After the first time Ciao came around, I kinda started lookin’ for him.”

Jeremy’s expression darkened. “What about the other kids in your neighborhood? They hang around, too?”

Robert smirked, shaking his head. “Some weren’t there ’cause they got after-school shit. Some…” He chuckled, running a hand across his mouth. “Some were scared.”

He glanced up, expecting some kind of reaction, but Pete just stared at him, unreadable.

Robert scoffed. “Called ’em pussies.”

Pete’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that I’d call them pussies. I think smart might be the word I’m going for.”

Robert's gaze dropped. His fingers curled into a fist on the table, but he didn’t say anything at first. “I ain’t dumb,” he muttered after a moment. “It’s not like Ciao walked up and said, ‘Hey, I’m gonna have a car full of shit, wanna come for a ride?’”

“Okay,” Pete said evenly. “So what did he say?”

Robert licked his lips, eyes darting toward the mirrored window before settling back on Pete. “Just said he was gonna grab somethin’ to eat. Asked if I wanted to roll with him.”

Pete tilted his head. “Was your mom home?”

Robert shook his head. “Nah.”

“So who was gonna get your brother and sister off the bus?”

Robert flinched, his fingers tightening in his lap. “Look, I ain’t there every day. If I’m not waitin’ on them, they go to one of the neighbors. They let ’em hang out till Mom gets home.”

Pete gave a slow nod, then continued. “Alright. So you get in the car with him. He decides to go for a little ride. You ever get something to eat? Did you ever stop?”

Robert scoffed, shaking his head. “Didn’t get the damn chance. He was goin’ too fuckin’ fast, and then the deputy got on his ass.”

Jeremy folded his arms. “What were you doing during all this?”

Robert dropped his gaze, his hands clenched together, knuckles white. His voice was quieter now, stripped of the false bravado. “I told him to slow down.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Then when they started chasin’ us, I told him to stop.”

Pete waited a beat. “And he didn’t.”

Robert let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. His jaw tightened as he lifted his gaze, eyes filled with something sharp and exhausted. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he bit out.

Pete leaned in slightly, his voice even but unrelenting. “Right. So he didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. What was going through your mind then?”

Robert sucked in his bottom lip, biting down hard, like he was trying to keep something painful from spilling out.

His knee bounced under the table again, but this time, it wasn’t cockiness—it was something raw.

“I was scared, okay?” he finally burst out, voice sharp with frustration. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

Jeremy tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Well, hearing that you were scared tells me you still got a brain cell left,” he said. “If you hadn’t been scared, I’d be thinking you were a lost cause.”

Robert’s shoulders slumped. Some of the fight drained out of him, and for a second, he just stared at the table, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists.

Pete pressed on. “When all hell broke loose with sirens, cops everywhere… and then Lashawn lost control of the car, I wanna know what went through your head when he climbed out and took off.”

Robert’s gaze snapped up to Pete’s, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. He let it out slowly, but his eyes didn’t waver.

“He got his door open,” he said quietly.

“Stepped on the damn steering wheel while I was still trying to get the airbag out of my face. Since we were up on our side, he climbed out first.” Robert swallowed hard, like the words physically hurt to say.

“I was still stuck in my seat belt. I called for him to help me.”