Page 39 of Holding On

Suddenly, all my pouting seems selfish and ridiculous. “They’re engaged?”

“Shit, shit, shit. Look,” he says, shooting me a dark glance, “you can’t tell a soul.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I said I won’t.”

“Fuck me. You got me all off guard with this business of lying.” He seems genuinely upset.

We’re forced to slow down because a large tree that fell from the storm is being carved up by a road crew. He drags a hand through his hair and tries to tame the piece that’s fallen across his forehead. He fails.

“I thought you don’t swear.”

“I do when it’s appropriate.” We sit for a minute or two. There were many trees down in Waldoboro—the storm hit this small town just as hard. The asphalt is full of fresh wood chips and wide swaths of drying mud.

On the other hand, the storm also wiped the sky clear of clouds. The sun is brilliant.

It isn’t until we start moving again that Nic speaks up. “Think of this like the engagement. We’re covering.”

I don’t know where he’s going with this, so I say nothing, but he must read my hesitation.

He grips the wheel. “We’re doing this for them, right? If there’s no link to the Russos, Barr can’t cry foul, right? He can’t play the victim card and claim they’re out for revenge. If Barr gets disbarred, fantastic. So I have to keep this from Finn, and you have to play your part. He got the story turned in his favor by crying victim last time, claiming their car had a burned-out headlight. We can’t let him do that this time.”

I sigh while he sets the cruise control. We’re back up to speed now with just an RV lumbering ahead.

“I’m bringing Jackson in on this, though.”

“I thought Carlson didn’t want anyone else involved.”

“What you’re doing is very important. It’s also pretty dangerous. When Audrey met with me and Carlson to put this thing together, we all agreed we wouldn’t put the person in this position at risk.”

“I know. They told me.”

“But I believe now you are at risk. If Barr gets wind of this, if he suspects for a moment that you’re working to nail him, he’ll go after you—and he’ll destroy you.”

“What can he do? Get me kicked out of law school? I’m top of my class.”

The question that burns is the one I don’t ask: Why are you worried now?

But Nic anticipates it. “Audrey Pratchett is a judge whose point of view is, frankly, after the fact.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She deals with defendants after a crime has been committed. Her skills around risk assessment have to do with fleeing. Other decisions are made after consulting with social workers, police, and family.”

“And Carlson’s . . .”

“Carlson’s a cop. A good cop, who might be too close to his own interests in the short term. He just wants Barr. He also thinks Barr won’t do anything because he knows people are watching, but I’m not so sure.”

“If you can’t consult with Finn, what about Mateus?” Both men are excellent profilers, and either could help.

Nick shakes his head. “Same problem.” The Russo problem. He states the obvious while I’m thinking it. “Mateus is with Laurel.”

We drive in silence for a while, and then we turn on to Interstate 95.

“I brought Jackson on to help us—he’s another pair of eyes and ears.”