Thirty
Noah
The woman beside me reminds me of an ambushed warrior—bloodied but unbroken. Watching her pull herself back together rubs a raw spot in my chest. She’s regrouping, and surrender isn’t remotely an option.
DC hums around us in indifferent rhythm—horns, coffee carts, commuters—an entire city moving on while her world burns behind tinted glass.
“How did things go with Stella this morning?” Five minutes of silence, and this is her first question. “Went well.” My throat’s dry. I can feel her eyes on me, weighing whether I softened the truth too much. “I was light on the details. Told her that you had to be in court unexpectedly.”
“You didn’t tell her I’ve been charged?”
“No. She came down the stairs panicked about being late. Didn’t feel like the time.”
Her lips purse, and I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or if she’s already moved on in her mind to the next hurdle.
“Do you have my phone?”
I point to the glove box and she opens it, removing it. She left it at the house as the police would have confiscated it.
She flinches.
“Everything okay?”
“Richard.” Her lip catches between her teeth. “Wonder when he learned.”
“Is he offering support?”
She scoffs. “No. But I am surprised he didn’t appear at the hearing. The timing on these messages… He knew before the hearing.”
“What’s he saying?”
She’s scrolling. I can’t tell if she’s reading his texts or if she’s moved on.
“He doesn’t want me coming anywhere near the school.”
“He can’t stop you.”
“He’s worried about media attention.”
“Are you expecting they’ll follow you?”
“No.” She’s circumspect. “But he’s right. For today. He’ll bring her home after school. Stella doesn’t know, and a news reporter following me on campus isn’t the way for her to find out.”
I sense she’s unhappy I didn’t give Stella the lowdown, but there really wasn’t the time, and she didn’t ask.
As I cut through traffic, she’s on her phone. Tapping away responses to whoever is out there.
I spent the morning going over everything with the KOAN team. It blurred into intel briefings and half-cold coffee. Gabriel’s coordinating with her defense team, tracking Delacroix’s widow. Jake’s chasing ghosts—namely, the missing witness. Quinn is looking into the judge assigned to this morning’s hearing—confirming standard process was followed. She’s also doing background on the prosecutor and the detectives. But, given how smoothly the arraignment went, I’m not sensing the judge was shopped. Now, the detectives and the prosecutor… There’s nothing worse than a rotten judicial system.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Alicia’s soft words bring me back to the vehicle. Her phone rests on her thigh.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I say, passing a slower car.
“You mean that, don’t you?” Her voice is soft, disbelieving, like she’s testing the ground before she steps on it.
I side-eye her, wondering where this is coming from.
“I admitted to you that I cheated on my husband, and you’re still by my side.”