Terin
THE NEXT MORNING when I arrived to work, as usual Bronson was there and we both ignored each other.
“Did you hear? The charges have been dropped,” said Fred, stopping by my desk.
“What charges?”
“The ones against Chips and Gomer.”
I frowned. “How?”
Just then, Walters stepped out of his office and called me into his office.
“Close the door,” he said, not looking happy.
I did and sat down. The tension in the room told me that he was furious about something. I couldn’t imagine Bronson spilling the beans, however. Especially since I had the picture of him with his hands on his pecker.
Walters opened up a file that was sitting on his desk and pulled out a photo. It was the one of me and Cole, on his motorcycle.
“Can you explain this?” he asked.
“Where did you get it?” I asked,
