“A lawyer?” Brian echoed, as if the word were foreign.
“Yes, Dad. A lawyer,” Dylan said, annoyed. How was he so calm? So strong? “It means they’re going to look at Mom as a suspect now,” he added. “Have you never seen a crime show?”
“It’s all going to be sorted out,” I said, making myself believe it. “We have nothing to hide. Nothing will come of any of this nonsense.”
Dylan nodded.
I smiled at him, but my mind flashed to that memory. Lacey sitting in room 12, covered in blood. Not hers … Zach’s.
It made me sick.
If that was Zach’s blood, she must’ve been right there when it happened. Probably screaming for help. Maybe she tried to help him fight back. But then fled when it was too late. Was she chased? Fell? Hit her head? Or was she struck?
So far, all the police told us was that they were still investigating, but it looked like a robbery gone wrong. To be patient. She wasn’t raped. We knew that. And the bruises on her body could have been from a struggle or a fall. So as of now, we didn’t know.
“Nicole!” Brian said in a stern tone.
I looked up. He had probably said my name more than once.
“Do you still have Jack Whitman’s number?” he asked.
“The lawyer who read Great-grandma’s will?” Dylan asked.
And handled your dad’s DUIs, I almost said but caught myself.
“Yes,” I said instead. “I’ll call him right now.”
Chapter 11
Nicole
It was late and dark outside.
Lila had woken up crying, so Brian read her a story to help her fall back asleep.
I was sitting with Lacey on the couch in the living room, both of us staring at the rolled-down blinds of the large window. Jack Whitman sat in the old TV chair, staring at the blinds too.
He wore an old suit, and his white hair was thinning. His wide nose cast a shadow over his lip. We’d known him for years. He had been my mom’s lawyer at first, then Brian’s after that.
It was dead silent.
Dylan stood by the window, peeking carefully through one side of the blinds.
“Are the TV crews still out there?” I asked.
He pinched his lips. “Yes. Most of them are still there.”
I sighed. “Are you sure the police are going to come for Lacey?” I asked Jack.
“As sure as they say grace in church,” Jack said. “You should have called me right away. Now we don’t even have the coroner’s report before the arrest.”
Dylan walked to the couch and sat next to Lacey, gently taking her hand.
“And there is nothing we can do about it?” I asked.
“Nope. Nothing.” Jack didn’t even flinch. “If they have an arrest warrant, they can take her by force. If they don’t have one, and we don’t cooperate, they’ll get one and we’ll look guilty.”
We sat in silence again. Waiting. Staring at nothing, just like Lacey.
