Page 83 of The Quiet After The Fall

The words have been rattling around in my skull since Sawyer passed out. My first instinct was to write it off—wine and adrenaline and a night of no sleep will make anyone babble nonsense. But the more I sit with it, the less it feels like nonsense.

David Thorne spent years on the inside Aldrich Development before everything fell apart. If anyone besides my father actually understood what happened with Velocity’s permits, with the ground it got built on, it’s the man sitting in Otisville for crimes I’m not sure he committed. The man I’ve blamed for the downfall of my family, and the life I’d been trying to build.

I scroll through my phone with one hand, careful not to jostle Sawyer, and pull up everything I saved from the files I found in my father’s office. The geotechnical report. The soil stability warnings. The signatures on every document—some my father’s clear as day, others are what I believed to be David’s but now I’m not so sure.

If David Thorne tried to stop this before it happened, he’s the only person left alive who might know exactly how deep it goes. And he’s had years sitting in a cell with nothing to do but think about who put him there.

My phone buzzes against my palm and I flinch at the sound, almost dropping it.

Ella: Dinner tonight? My treat :)

Fuck me.

I stare at the words hoping a solution will magically present itself, guilt curdling low in my gut. There’s no way around it. I’ll have to meet her or risk another visit from Moretti’s psychotic goon. Or worse, put Sawyer at risk. It’s already bad enough that I’m here.

Me: Sounds good. Send me the details.

I lock the screen and set the phone face down on the nightstand. Let’s hope I can maneuver the drop off with Gia and dinner with Ella in the same night. I need a good excuse for why I’ve been absent. As much as Ella doesn’t pry, she’s been getting restless lately. Asking more questions. And on top of that, sharing her unease with her father.

I swipe through my phone and find the text from Owen’s buddy Tyler R., rereading it. A memorial this weekend. That’s either today or tomorrow then. This could be good. Exactly what I need for Ella to give me some space.

Me: Hey man, sorry I didn’t answer you the other day, work’s been a bitch. Did I miss the memorial?

Tyler texts back almost immediately.

Tyler: Nah man, it’s tomorrow at 6. Coach S is letting us use the football field. Dress casual. Good to hear from you, was starting to think you fell off the face of the earth lol

Tomorrow. That’s perfect. I can make sure everything goes well tonight with Gia, catch dinner with Ella, tell her I’ll be busy with the memorial for a few days, really milk it for everything I’ve got, and that should buy me some time.

Me: I’ll do my best to be there. Thanks for doing this.

A nice vague response, not a definite answer, but something. The pieces are shifting together, this might work. Most importantly, Sawyer will be safe with Gia, and I can go to Otisville to talk to Thorne. Or more likely, we’ll both go.

Sawyer’s phone buzzes on her nightstand, loud enough that she stirs against me, brow furrowing before her eyes even open.

I reach over her carefully, mindful of my ribs, and glance at the screen.

Gia: Ok everything’s set. Meet me at the parking lot on Elm. It’s in between that church and preschool. Bring all your shit too.

Gia: I feel like Matt Damon in some spy movie. Oooh or Keanu. Def Keanu. Should I find us some masks? You know those balaclava types. (Don’t even ask why I know what those are)

Where did Sawyer find this girl? I can’t help but huff a laugh at the image of Sawyer as some kind of masked spy. At least someone’s lightening the tension.

I look down at her, dead asleep against my side, chest rising slow and even, completely unaware that in the next hour, her whole life shifts into a different gear.

It kills me to wake her. She needs the peace and reprieve from all the stress and chaos. I hate it so damn much. But we have to get our shit together.

“Sawyer.” I brush a strand of hair back from her face and keep my voice low. “Hey. Gia’s ready for you.”

She stirs again, this time, cracking her eyes open. There’s confusion in them as she blinks up at me, but then one look at my face, has the last twelve hours barreling back into her expression.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Almost five.” I nod to her phone on the table. “Gia texted. She’s got the meeting spot set. Elm Street, by the church.”

Sawyer scrolls and a tired laugh escapes her, despite the fucked up situation. “Balaclavas…she’s so funny.”

“I saw. She’s a character, that’s for sure.”