Page 36 of Holding On

Chapter Eight

Maya Hamilton

I just feel like I lie all the time. Apparently, that’s all I can do. I lie about getting a place to live. I lie about where I work. I lie about what I’m doing over the weekend. I lie to the people I shouldn’t be lying to.

Last night, the night of the storm, I was back down at TheWinnow at nine. The storm broke at eight or so, but Jack wanted to wait a bit and kept fretting around his house doing what my mother used to call “Mickey Mouse work.” At one point, he brought me two cups of tea.

“I can’t believe I blew it like that,” he said at least a half dozen times. He was referring to the Barr discussion. I kept telling him it was fine, but he said this was his job.

“You’re not a machine,” I remember saying. “You were stressed out.”

It was still raining lightly on the five-minute drive down to the harbor. He wanted to avoid the crush of people coming in to look at the mess and the owners checking on their boats. This included Judge Barr.

After checking the moorings, he decided to leave TheWinnow strapped tight to the dock. He apologized again, this time about leaving me on the boat. That offered a chance to try and talk to him about what I’m doing—how I’m lying to everyone—but he just shook his head.

“You’re not lying,” Carlson explained. “You’re working. It’s different.”

It’s not. And this is what I’m telling Audrey Pratchett first thing this morning over the phone. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and it had little to do with the storm. It had to do with the lies and the trip to Boston I’m taking today. I’m involved in a near repeat of the conversation I had right after Travis left on move-in day. That was the day Audrey told me to tell the truth—just truths that don’t really matter.

“Lying by omission is a thing,” I remind her, gripping the phone.

She tries to calm me down and reminds me of something as well. “You’re doing all this for a good reason. A very good reason.”

“I care about these people. I care about my uncle, about the Russos, and I’m lying to all of them, all the time.”

“Barr is a very dangerous man, Maya. Carlson and I have been trying to disbar him for years. There’s a mole or two in the police department—and they haven’t been identified yet, so Carlson’s hands are somewhat tied. Barr’s also got friends on the bench. Close friends. He’s got friends on the other side of the law, and they’re dangerous. There’s never been any physical evidence to tie him to anything, and I’m sure he’s been involved in everything from drugs to sex trafficking. That’s your job. Just find a thread and let Carlson and I unravel it. In the meantime, just touch on some truths.”

I sigh and move the phone to my other ear. “Well, then, I need to tell you I asked Travis about the accident—”

“I told you to leave that alone, Maya!”

I take a deep breath. Audrey is nice and all, but she’s still a federal judge and can be as intimidating as hell.

But so can I when I need to be. I drop my voice. “If I’m lying to them, then I need to be doing something for them. Otherwise, I’m out.”

Silence takes up a beat or two, and then she fills it. “Okay. I get it. Do what you can, but don’t jeopardize the bigger investigation.”

“How is the car accident and the death of two people not as important?”

“It is, Maya. But there’s no evidence. It’s nearly twelve years old. The other, more tangible records, dates, times, people—that’s got to be in his office. We’ve searched his house. There’s nothing. But it’s out there. Finn Colton told me Barr’s house has one of the most sophisticated camera surveillance systems on the market. He’s not going to hide anything at his house, but his office is another matter. No cameras in his office.”

A knock on the cabin door makes me jump, and I see Travis waving through the portal window.

“Gotta go. Travis just showed up.”

“This is important, Maya.”

“I know.”

I put the phone down on the counter, adjust my face, and open the door. He steps in, beaming, with two steaming cups of coffee. How is he always in a good mood in the morning? “Lindy’s?”

He nods. “I got you,” he says and hands me one. My fingers brush against his for a moment, and it sends a jolt of electricity down my spine.

“Perfect.”

“It’s early.” I take a sip. Never have I had such strong coffee. It’s delicious. No acid, just flavor.

“No surgery this morning, and I wanted to check on you after last night.”