“It’s not normal,” Quentin says. “I agree that you’ve dealt with shitty men, but it’s not all of them—I promise.”
“Most,” Annalise asks.
He shakes his head. “Not even. The men who subscribe to that kind of belief, they think they’re untouchable. It’s up to us to make sure they lose that invincibility. They can’t be trusted with even one ounce of power because they’ll always use it for evil.” Quentin shakes his head. “Listen,” he adds, “just don’t lumpmostof us in there. I’m taking those fuckers down.”
“Fair enough,” Annalise says, seeming to accept that sentiment. “You are excellent at not being an asshole,” she adds, pretending to bow. But when she straightens again, she flinches, rubbing at her temple.
“Headache?” Quentin asks softly, his face serious. He must know about her pain, and I appreciate how he tries to look out for her.
“Yeah,” she says. “I thought they were gone for the day, but surprise on me, I guess.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, making me jump. My heart leaps when I see it’s Jackson calling. I show the others and quickly answer, putting it on speaker.
“Mena, I’m sorry,” he says the moment I say hello. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to explain, but I had to be careful. Especially after I heard about Winston Weeks. I’m in Denver now.”
Any of my anger toward Jackson faded the minute he said my name. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “And I promise I’ll make this up to you. Q, you there?” he calls out.
“Yeah, man,” Quentin says, wrapping his arm around the seat as he looks back at the phone in my hand. “How’d it go? Did you talk to the chief? Brooks, was it?”
“Yes,” Jackson says. “And I just got done. Not sure Chief Brooks believed me at first, but then with the Mogul Massacre hype, I think she realized it was serious. Pulled me off into a private room. I explained to her that my dad was involved in some shit, and now he’s dead. I told her there was something up with Innovations Academy, which is conveniently burned to the ground. And then I told her that the whole damn town ran away. She looked shaken.”
“Do you think she’ll help?” I ask. “Should you have told her so much?”
“I think so,” Jackson says. “I trusted her. But Q, she’s asking to talk to you. You think you can head down to Denver?”
Quentin opens his mouth to say yes, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Are you sure that’s smart?” I ask. “I mean, why does she need him? I don’t like this, Jackson, not with people going missing.”
“It’s okay, Mena,” Jackson says. “Neither of us have billions waiting in our bank accounts.”
“Maybe not,” I say, “but you know details about the Mogul Massacre and that puts a pretty big target on your back.”
“She’s got a point, Jackie,” Quentin says. He’s gnawing on his lip, clearly nervous.
“I trust Brooks,” Jackson says again. “We can’t do all of this on our own. You see that, right? They’re too powerful. We need someone on our side.”
Annalise looks up at me, gauging my reaction. I’m not sure what to say. Leandra told us not to trust anybody, but can we really exist like that? Is there a future in that?
“I’m heading to Denver now,” Quentin says, making the decision for himself. “Where do you want me to meet you?”
Jackson gives him the address of the coffee shop near the precinct where the chief asked to meet him. She wants it off the record, and Jackson got the impression it wasn’t to bury the investigation, but instead, to keep it from being thwarted.
“She sent a crew to my old house to pick up my dad’s body,” Jackson adds. “They said he was killed the same time as Fusillo and Wallach. They’re not connecting it yet, because on paper, my dad was a nobody. He wasn’t rich. He wasn’t important.”
His voice is sad, and I feel a pang of sympathy. “Jackson…,” I start to say, but he sniffles and cuts me off.
“It’s all right, Mena,” he says. “Will you be safe up there alone at the cabin?”
“I’m actually not alone,” I say, making Annalise smile.
“And the other girls will be here in a few hours,” Annalise adds. “They’re bringing a rental car.” She flips her phone around to show me a message from Sydney:
Landed early and on our way. Got a rental car. Have snacks ready.
“See? We’re good,” I tell Jackson. “Promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he says, a smile in his voice. “I’ll see you soon.”
