He nodded slightly.
Wallace cleared his throat.
"Then we will follow appropriate procedures."
Jackson turned.
"Great."
He started walking toward Trent again.
Wallace stepped sideways.
"Where are you going?"
"To ask a question."
"You are not permitted to interrogate students."
"I'm not a cop."
"Exactly."
Jackson stopped.
For several seconds, he stared at Wallace.
Then he surprised everyone.
He took out his phone.
"Fair enough."
He looked at Cody.
"Cody, I need you to answer one thing."
Cody swallowed.
"What?"
"Did Trent Harris and Weston Cole do this to you?"
The courtyard went silent.
Cody looked toward Trent.
Even from across the distance, Trent's expression carried a warning.
For six weeks, that look had controlled Cody.
Pay.
Stay quiet.
Take the hit.
Don't tell.
Cody's hands started shaking.
Jackson did not pressure him.
Brian did not speak.
Nobody did.
Finally, Cody whispered, "Yes."
Jackson nodded.
"That's enough for me."
He opened his contacts.
Trent laughed nervously.
"What are you doing?"
Jackson looked at him for the first time.
"Calling your dad."
The laugh vanished.
"You don't know my dad."
Jackson tapped the screen.
"I know enough."
The call rang twice.
A professional male voice answered.
"Bill Harris speaking."
Jackson put the call on speaker.
"Bill."
Pause.
"Who's this?"
"Brick Sullivan."
Silence.
Then Bill Harris's tone changed.
"Brick."
Trent looked at Weston.
Weston stared back.
Bill continued.
"Hey. How are you? Everything all right at Riverside?"
Jackson's eyes remained on Trent.
"Concrete's good."
"Great. Great."
"We have another problem."
"What kind?"
"I'm standing at Oak Creek High."
A longer pause.
Trent lowered the football.
"Okay."
"I'm looking at your son."
Bill's voice became cautious.
"What happened?"
"Your son and his friend have been beating my fifteen-year-old brother."
The courtyard seemed to shrink around the speakerphone.
"What?"
"Extortion first. Assault second."
"No."
Bill's response came instinctively.
"Trent wouldn't..."
Jackson said nothing.
Bill stopped himself.
"How bad?"
"Boot print on the thigh. Rib bruising. Weeks of it."
"Oh my God."
Trent stepped forward.
"Dad..."
Jackson held up one finger.
Trent stopped.
Bill heard him.
"Is that Trent?"
"Yeah."
"Put him on."
Jackson did not immediately move.
"Before I do, understand something."
"Brick..."
"I'm not here to hurt your son."
Bill exhaled audibly.
Jackson continued.
"My brother was afraid to tell me because he thought I'd go back to prison. So nobody's getting hit today."
Cody stared at him.
It was the first time Jackson had publicly acknowledged that promise.
"But your son is going to answer for this."
Bill's voice was quieter.
"I understand."
"And I don't mean some three-day suspension followed by a private-school transfer."