CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time they saw the two uniformed cops heading toward their table inside the restaurant at Trammel, Grace and Trina were eating lunch. “Wonder what they want?” asked Trina. Then she frowned. “Looks like they’re heading straight for us, Grace.”
Grace looked too. And Trina was right. The two white officers stopped at their table. “Mrs. Gabrini?” they asked, seemingly unsure which was which.
Since Trina and Grace were Gabrinis, they waited for them to distinguish which they meant.
“The mother of Thomas Gabrini, Junior?” the taller officer added.
Grace’s heart grew faint. “Yes, that’s me. Is everything alright, Officer?”
“You’ll need to come with us, ma’am.”
Grace and Trina both were now concerned. “Come with you?” asked Trina. “Why does she have to come with you?”
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked. “Is my son alright?”
“There’s been a school shooting, ma’am.”
Grace’s heart dropped. Trina’s too. “Is my son alright?” she asked the officers again as she quickly stood up, her eyes darting from one officer to the next one.
“We don’t believe he’s injured,” said the shorter officer.
“Then why are you here?” asked Trina.
The taller officer looked at Grace. “We believe your son, Thomas Gabrini, Junior, is the shooter ma’am.”
Grace’s heart fell through her stomach. It wasn’t possible. Grace knew it and Trina did too. That was why they both said “TJ?” at the same time, and with shock in their voices.
The officer grabbed Grace by the arm. “I’m sorry, but you have to come now, ma’am.”
Grace, her heart hammering, her brain unable to compute what they were claiming, hurried with the officers. Trina grabbed Grace’s purse and phone and her own stuff and hurried behind them too. Because the wait staff knew that Grace was the big boss, they didn’t try to pursue her for payment.
But when Grace and the cops got outside to the patrol car, and Trina tried to follow her, the second officer stopped her. “Just her,” he said.
“But how do we know this isn’t a snatch and grab?” asked Trina. “Show me your badge.”
The officer quickly showed his badge. Trina had seen more than her share since she married into the Gabrini family. It was legit.
They hurriedly placed Grace in the backseat as if she was a criminal for being the shooter’s mother. Which Trina was certain had to be a mistake. TJ? A school shooter? No way! “Grace, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Call Tommy,” Grace was saying anxiously as fear gripped her eyes. “Trina, call Tommy!”
“I will,” Trina said, fumbling to pull out her phone. “Don’t you worry about that, I’ll call Tommy right now. I’ll call everybody. You just make sure TJ is okay!”
And then both cops got onto the front seats of the patrol car, turned on the sirens, and sped away.
Trina was making the call as she ran to Grace’s car. Since she had the keys in Grace’s purse, the door opened, she was able to start the engine, and she took off behind that patrol car.
But just like Grace, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding either.