Richard’s jaw ticks once. His tell. He looks at me, and in that look is a question I can’t answer here, can’t answer now, maybe can’t answer ever.
“My ex-wife’s past professional relationships are not relevant to?—”
“Professional.” Lassiter tastes that word too. He’s collecting them like evidence. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
My phone buzzes on the table. All three of us look at it.
“Go ahead,” Lassiter says. “Could be important.”
I flip it over. A text from Jessica, with a photo attached. Stella in the back seat of a car, but something’s wrong with the picture. The angle, maybe. Or maybe it’s the perfect cut of Jessica’s face, like she’s holding a selfie stick and using a filter.
* * *
Jessica, Richard’s girlfriend: Picked up Stella as Richard requested! Taking the scenic route home. She asked for ice cream. Smart girl.
* * *
My blood turns to ice water in my veins.
“Problem?” Lassiter asks.
“I need to go.” I stand, and the room tilts slightly. When did I last eat? When did I last breathe properly? “My daughter?—”
“We’re not quite finished here, Ms. Morgan.”
“Are you charging her?” Richard’s voice cuts through the fog of my panic.
Lassiter’s pen clicks once. “Not yet.”
The word “yet” follows us out of the room, down the hallway, past the cluttered desks and curious stares, out into the afternoon light that feels too bright, too brisk, too normal for what’s just happened.
In the parking lot, Richard grabs my arm. “How long?”
“Richard—”
“How long were you sleeping with Matthew Delacroix?” His voice is low, controlled, deadly. “During our marriage. How. Long.” It’s not a question. It’s a confirmation.
“I need to get Stella?—”
“Jessica has her. She’s safe.” His grip tightens slightly. “Answer the question, Alicia.”
My phone buzzes again.
* * *
Noah Bennett: On my way. Are you okay?
* * *
I look at Richard’s face—the anger, the betrayal, the protective instinct still fighting through all of it.
Then I look at the precinct behind me, where Lassiter is probably already building his case.
And finally at my phone, where Noah’s message waits for an answer.
I don’t know how to respond to any of them.
My watch catches the light. 4:44.