I pick up my phone and see more confessions getting some national attention. What? Someone keeping quiet? Not reporting someone else? Worried about the exposure and what it will do to their business? I shake my head. A little too on the nose, I think.
My phone dings with a text.
It’s Jeremy. He’s worked through the night.
Check your email, see attached. You have final approval on every word. Four parts in all. 1) Sophie 2) Workplace harassment 3) Jess 4) Leon, Railes, Coleman,Lies.
I open the file.
He’s written a thorough, sensitive piece. I only have a few edits regarding two inaccuracies on time frames, but I don’t give him the go-ahead. Not just yet.
My cheeks are wet. I have no idea when I started crying. I try to parse the source. Is it because today could be the last day of my life? Is it because maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be getting the killer off my back?
It’s much deeper: I’ve been carrying this baggage for so long now. To finally release it is overwhelming, despite the consequences.
I could be charged with obstruction or, worse, conspiracy to commit murder. I could be charged with conspiracy to cover up the murder, impeding law enforcement’s efforts to solve the crime. I would pay my dues in jail time. I would also lose my private investigator’s license and never be able to reclaim it. No law enforcement agency would ever hire me again because I would lose my Peace Officer Standards and Training certification that allows me to be a cop anywhere.
Worse, the sheer shame of it all. Where could I hide? What foreign country could I move to? I couldn’t even fathom leaving Jess and Sam anyway, so I swipe the thoughts away. Try not to think of life behind bars.
Jeremy texts:
All good? Do I have your go-ahead?
He has already informed me that after I give the thumbs-up, the piece will be published by midmorning on RollingStone.com, and a few days later in the magazine’s(Sub)Culturesection.
The persistent flutter in my gut spreads to my entire body like a giant bird inside me trying to take flight. Despite the relief to get things off my chest, there’s a high-intensity tension saturating the air and coursing through me. Even though I haven’t slept at all, I’m wired. What have I invited in by not confessing on the killer’s timeline?
I take a deep breath like I’m about to dive into a cold lake. Then I give him the go-ahead.
But first and foremost, I need to tell Jess what’s coming. My plan is to drive to her place before the sun fully rises over the eastern mountainsand tell her in person, then prepare for whatever comes my way for the rest of the day.
Jess and Sam still have security stationed at her place. And as fearful as I am to draw the killer to her house, I need to tell her about the full confession in person. And if I don’t survive the day, it will be the last time I see either one of them. I want to—needto—say goodbye.
I’m betting on it being early enough that the killer won’t even have had time to eat breakfast yet.
I’m grateful for Greene’s presence downstairs. Her company and her gun afford me enough reassurance to take a quick shower. I feel vulnerable and deeply alone, and it ends up being the fastest shower I’ve ever taken. I dress in a snap, don my vest, put on my holster, and go downstairs.
It’s pitch black out still, but Greene is making coffee.
“Did you sleep at all?” I say.
“A little. In your easy chair.” She scoops grounds into the filter. With her back to me, she adds, “Look, I’m sorry about the slipup with the reporter.”
I don’t have the energy to focus on Greene’s failings. I have only two things on my mind: staying alive and informing my sister about Jeremy’s article.
“I shouldn’t have talked to him at all.” She turns to me, holding a scoop in midair, and I see vulnerability in her for the first time. “I put you in a compromising position.”
“It’s hard to do everything perfectly in this business,” I say, the understatement of the year, but soon enough, that will all be out. “Besides, Jeremy is quite charming. Maybe too charming.”
She agrees with that, and we drop it.
“Any word on DNA on that Kleenex?”
“Not yet. You know the system. It always takes longer than we’d like, no matter how urgent, but we should have something by midday. Hopefully.”
I tell her my plan to go to Jess’s.
As I pick up my keys, she says, “I’m coming with. Just let me get us some travel mugs. It’ll brew quickly.”
