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“Yeah,” Mel agrees without much conviction. “Surely Chief Lytle wouldn’t really fire any of them.” The three women exchange nervous glances.
“Why does anyone have to know who specifically obtained the illegal evidence?” Emily pipes up with a doubtful shrug. “Wait, no that’s stupid,” she adds, her shoulders slumping. “How could you prove it was illegally obtained without knowing the specifics?”
“Exactly,” I say resolutely. “And since we’re on the subject, this is exactly why I don’t want you telling any of them what happened. You think it would be such an easy thing for them not to tell anyone,” I echo their earlier claims, “but once they know the truth, they’re involved in the coverup too and that puts their jobs at risk. Lucy, you’re having a baby. You really want Stafford out of a job?” Lucy’s cheeks color as her eyes drop to her stomach, but I’m not finished.
“And Mel, you’ve got a wedding coming up. Do you want your groom to be unemployed?” Mel’s mouth pops open, like she’s going to protest, but I keep going. “And Emily, how are you going to pay the mortgage on that house you just bought with only one income?”
A glum silence settles over the car as each of them take in what I’ve said.
“Look, I don’t expect anyone to risk their jobs for me,” Nora finally speaks, her voice firm. “Jack is already doing just that and it kills me that this could ruin his career. I’m not going to add more casualties to my conscience.”
I know I should speak. Should offer up some words of encouragement or an assurance that she’s worth more to me than my job. But there are three other women in this car who would explode into real life versions of the heart-eyes emoji if I said something like that, which would completely negate the sincerity of the words.
Anyway, it’s for the best that I keep silent. The only thing worse than her thinking I’m saying the words for everyone else’s benefit would be her realizing that I mean them for real. She darn well does mean more to me than any job ever could.
But I have my pride to think about. Not to mention my fragile heart. The one she’s holding without even knowing it–making it that much easier for it to end up broken.
“Okay,” Lucy says with a heavy sigh, “let’s forget the mistrial idea. We’ll think of something else, Nora. Okay?” She’s infused her previously downtrodden tone with false cheer. “Like isn’t there some horrible human we can try and pin this on? You know, someone like Kim Jong Un but more local.”
“Pretty sure the state of Michigan is fresh out of evil dictators to pin murders on,” I say.
“You know you’re being really negative, Reynolds,” Lucy huffs. “This is a brainstorming session, which means it’s the time to share any and all ideas, no matter how ridiculous.”
“Here, here!” Emily enthuses.
“Let’s focus on the endgame,” Lucy suggests. “I mean, what are we supposed to tell the guys if we can’t tell them Nora is the one who, you know, killed Ian Wharfman?” As Lucy voices this concern a worry crease appears on her brow. “I can’t lie to Nate forever.”
“Same,” Emily agrees. “Not telling Reed for a day or two is one thing…but not telling him ever…” she trails off.
“We could tell them, then all move to some foreign country and be fugitives from the law,” Lucy muses. “Maybe Antigua.”
It deeply disturbs me that she somehow came up with the same idea as me.
“What’s the real estate market like there?” Emily asks.
“Noah knows you snuck into Nora’s condo last night,” Mel blurts suddenly, then groans and sinks back in her seat.
“Wait, what?” I demand, and Mel moans again.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you. I slipped up when I complimented Nora on her dress earlier. Noah got a call from one of Nora’s neighbors this morning that their dog was going crazy around 3am, and when they got up to investigate they saw someone sneaking out of Nora’s condo. They snapped a photo and though the darkness might’ve made it hard to recognize anyone else, your best friend was able to identify you right away.”
I’m in shock. Sure I heard that dog going nuts, but it stopped as soon as I got in the house so I didn’t think anything more of it. But someone took a picture of me. How could I have let that happen? How could I have been so careless?
Probably because I was too busy anticipating the happy look on Nora’s face when I showed her the clothes I’d gotten from her house for her. I’d been too focused on being her hero yet again. Stupid.
“Why didn’t he say anything?” I manage to ask.
“Because,” Mel says softly, “it turns out your friends consider you someone worth giving the benefit of the doubt.”
Her statement, said so plainly and without condemnation, guts me.
“Don’t look so surprised, Reynolds,” Emily says with a laugh. “Did you really think you held the monopoly on going the extra mile for your friends? You do so much for everyone else—of course the guys are willing to show up for you. You just never ask for help.”
“You can say that again,” Lucy snorts. “Why do you think that is, Reynolds?”
“Yes, why can’t you ask for help?” Mel seconds the question. “You do know asking people for help is actually a sign of emotional maturity, right? I have a book I could give you, if you don’t believe me.”
“I think the thing you should be considering is whether or not this whole not-asking-for-help method is working for you?” Emily says thoughtfully, and the other two nod. I don’t dare look at Nora to see how she’s reacting to their shenanigans.
