Chapter Fifteen
“ I was meaning to ask how you met Tony.” Daniel makes Emilio coffee, seeming for all the world like a friendly, calm host and not someone who was kidnapped at gunpoint a day ago. He fumbles over Colette’s coffee maker, but everyone else is too frozen solid with nerves to do it for him. “Thanks for helping us start the car, by the way, Mr. Lawrence.”
“It’s Emilio.” Emilio leans against the kitchen counter. “Glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.”
“You got a lot of people here who care about you.”
Daniel gives Tony a shadow of a smile. “I guess I do.”
“Well.” Emilio crosses his arms over his chest. The unimpeded view of his biceps highlights that he’s easily the biggest and strongest person in the room, and it’s a little ridiculous how this concern occurs to Tony now , when they’ve fully eliminated him as a suspect. “Colette and Tony, here, were trying to find you, and obviously, they succeeded. They searched my house in the process though.”
Daniel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “You did what ?”
“To be fair, he invited us to,” Tony says. It’s a weak defense for impoliteness, and if Ma were here, she would tell him so.
“Their original plan was to park right across the road and watch me, I think.”
Daniel rubs a hand over his face. “You promised not to get involved in any more murder investigations.”
Utter shock at the hypocrisy stops Tony from forming meaningful thoughts momentarily.
“Technically, it was a kidnapping.”
“Thank you for the distinction, Professor Ravel.”
“Daniel—” Tony tries.
“No, no.” Colette waves him off. “Daniel is angry, and he has every right to be. Everything is my fault.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault.” The coffee maker bangs against the stovetop as Daniel sets it down.
“No, you said you blamed yourself, which is ridiculous. I was far more at fault than you.”
“That’s not fair. You’re putting words in my mouth—”
“You’re not being fair.”
Daniel turns his back and turns the burner on. “Do you take milk or sugar?” he asks Emilio.
Emilio shakes his head wordlessly.
“Hey, you think you could give me your key?” Meredith asks Colette. “I’m just gonna shower and freshen up.”
She escapes down the stairs, and Lisa, the coward, goes to check on the patient in the other room.
Tony barely dares to think her name, not with the situation in the kitchen set to explode.
Daniel hands Emilio his coffee.
Emilio takes it, thanks him, and asks, “Daniel, who kidnapped you?”
Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I don’t know if…”
“It’s an easy question, unless you were blindfolded or unconscious or something.”
When no one responds, Emilio continues. “And given no one here is racing you to the hospital, I’m guessing you weren’t. So, I’m thinking you know exactly who it was, and you don’t want to tell me. Which is weird because, last I heard, I was helping you guys out and tracking IP addresses off of Rate My Professor, which was also pretty weird.”
“Christ.” Tony rubs a hand across his eyes. This is his fault. He shouldn’t have gotten Emilio involved. He’s so tired. “Emilio, man, this isn’t about you—”
“If you all know who killed my wife, it sure as fuck is.”
“It’s not that simple.” Daniel tries to stay rational and light, but Tony hears the steel in his voice. He’s getting angry, and if Tony is supposed to be the last remaining voice of reason in the room, he might as well start hiding the sharp knives.
“Sounds simple to me. My wife gets stabbed, you get kidnapped, you know who did both, they get arrested. Boom. Easy.”
“She’s just a kid, Emilio,” Tony tries. Lily is only seven years younger than him. Gianna’s old enough to be a mom, and she’s only a year older. Lily can vote. She can drink legally.
She’s old enough to own her fuck-ups, no matter how bad things get.
But at twenty-one, Tony had finished his associate’s degree and started working full-time in the shop. All his friends were doing four-year degrees or work placements in other towns; they were dating and having regular sex with whomever they wanted. Tony was right where he’d always been and exactly as unsure of what and whom he wanted how.
He would have given anything for anyone in his life to think he was worth protecting.
After everything Lily’s done, he can’t give her that grace anymore, but he knows why Daniel thinks she deserves it. He suppresses the part of himself that violently disagrees.
“I don’t care who the fuck she is, she—” Emilio says.
“I know!” Daniel bursts out. “I know, all right? And we’ll get there. But she—I—look, this is my fault.”
Colette scoffs.
“She is my student, and my responsibility,” Daniel continues. “She’s been taking drugs, and she’s been through a hell of a lot, and I will not watch another kid get institutionalized and die over what fucking Mario did to them.”
“So we tell the detective.” Colette inspects her fingernails, trying to look cool even though she’s trembling as if the tension is rattling through her entire body. “They have suicide watch protocols. They can—”
“Do you know how inhumane that is?” Daniel turns on her. He hasn’t slept in about as long as Tony, probably. “I mean, you’ve been reading those articles I sent you, right, about—”
“Remember which of us was arrested last year? You’re not responsible for this country’s draconian nightmare of a criminal justice system.”
“If you hate the country so much—”
“This is not about that!”
“You’re right. It’s about protecting students who need help.”
“Your savior complex can’t cure mental illness!”
“ Hey !” Emilio yells, his voice a thunderclap through the kitchen.
Everyone stops to stare at him.
“I don’t give a shit about the criminal justice system. I care about my dead wife and our kid. Tell me who did it.”
Daniel’s chin juts out. “Not until I’ve found her a lawyer.”
“Fine.” Emilio takes a long sip of his coffee. “Then I’m staying right here until you do.”
It’s understandable, if not reasonable. Emilio has no reason to trust them. Tony doesn’t trust them either right now.
With nothing better to do, he makes breakfast.
Bigger pan , he puts on his mental list of things to talk to Daniel about getting. Ma made sure the fridge was stocked to bursting, but he can only fit so many eggs into Daniel’s shitty Jamie Oliver pan (three for two on Amazon the week Daniel moved into this apartment, which makes Tony cringe almost as much as the scratched-up Teflon on the smallest one in the set. Ma always says you have to pick a pan up before you buy it), especially if he’s frying up hash browns in the biggest one.
Emilio takes up residence at the island, watching him cook. Colette and Daniel abscond to the office, presumably to get in touch with Jeff.
“You realize this is insane, right?” Emilio asks Tony eventually.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Why are you going along with it?”
“If he hadn’t been around last year, it could be me.” Gianna bumps Tony aside to grab a plate from overhead. She fills it straight out of the pan.
“It wouldn’t have been you,” Tony says.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Tony makes a plate for himself. His appetite is all over the place and nowhere to be found right now, but he should probably eat anyway. He fills a third plate and offers it to Emilio.
Emilio eyes it skeptically, but he takes it all the same.
Gianna could never have ended up where Lily is now. She’s too smart to get hooked on drugs, too good to do the things Lily has done. Tony would never have let her get so lost.
Maybe she’s a little right.
“How’s it going in there?” Tony asks.
She shrugs. “Blake’s good with her. But he thinks she’s gonna need a hospital and a real doctor sooner rather than later.”
Emilio’s fork clatters to the floor. “She’s here ?”
Tony closes the kitchen door.
“The woman who killed my wife is in this apartment , and you want me to, what, sit still and eat some fucking eggs?”
“Yeah. That’s what I want.” It’s not though. It’s not what Tony wants, not even for a second, and the lie tastes bitter on his tongue.
For a moment, Emilio stares at him. Then, he says, “Fuck no,” and makes for the door.
Tony blocks his way. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna go in there and threaten a twenty-one-year-old girl? You’re gonna hurt her? That’s gonna look great in court, man. A good lawyer will get her off the hook if you do.”
“I’m not just waiting here .”
“You’re not. You’re having some breakfast, and you’re sitting down, and you’re taking a fucking breather.” Tony pushes Emilio lightly by the shoulders, getting him situated on the bar stool Tony usually sits at when he and Daniel eat in here.
“Look,” Tony says, “I know this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but think about it this way. You know who did it. You know where she is. She’s going to get arrested sooner or later. And yeah, maybe sooner would be better, but the smartest person in the room thinks we should wait. No one else needs to get hurt.”
Emilio takes a deep breath. “Give me a minute.”
Tony grabs his plate. “Sure thing. We’ll be in the living room.”
He closes the kitchen door behind himself and Gianna and tries not to sigh with relief too loudly.
“You’re good at that,” she observes. “Calming him down.”
“I get how he feels.” He felt the same much of the time this last year. First, about Mario when he was still alive, then, about Daniel, briefly, when Daniel thought Gianna had killed Mario. Then, about no one in particular when it was all over and there was no one left to be angry at. “Hey, you were amazing with Lily, you know.” Tony bumps their shoulders together as they sit on the couch between the mess of bedding Lisa and Blake never ended up needing.
Her lips twitch into the start of a smile. “Thanks, I think.”
“I never knew how you felt about Mario. About everything that happened with him.”
“How could you? I didn’t.”
“But you—”
Gianna pats his shoulder. “I didn’t know when it was happening, or last year, when I was busy freaking out about him being dead and me becoming a mom. It took me a while to work through everything.”
“Well, if you need someone to talk to…” He’s not sure he should be offering himself as a resource right now. They both know he has his own stuff to work on.
She must catch where he’s going, though, because she says, “Maybe we both do. Maybe we should make coffee dates or something.”
The thought makes him smile. “We could do it when we do customer logs. Busywork and trauma, the two things that will keep Dad and Kyle out of the front office.”
She laughs. “I’m down. You bring the drinks.”
“Deal. Pastries on bad days.”
They bump fists, a gesture they haven’t done since Gianna still had braces.
“Did you make breakfast?” Colette asks, emerging from the office. “Bless you.”
“Yeah. Maybe wait a minute, Emilio’s cooling off in there.”
She nods and falls into place next to them on the couch.
“Any luck with Jeff?” Tony asks her.
“He’s furious we interrupted his holiday. He gave us a number for a colleague in the city. Daniel’s calling right now.”
Tony grins.
“What?”
“I knew he didn’t have to come out here himself last year. He wanted to help.”
Colette blinks. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Yeah. There had to be a heart buried somewhere under those suspenders.”
“Tony…” Colette shifts awkwardly on the couch. “Should I…”
“Hm?”
“Suppose Daniel is right about all this. Suppose we should have kept a closer eye on Andrew and on Lily. Should I… I suppose I am responsible for Sean?”
“I don’t know if you’re responsible for him. He’s an adult. But you could see how he’s doing. Daniel says he was there for most of…everything.”
Gianna nods. “He’s kind of a dick, but he probably needs some help to get out of this.”
“He’s definitely neck-deep in the drugs part of it.”
Colette groans. “I’ve never even smoked marihuana. I’m not qualified to help. I don’t… What do I say?”
It’s not a question Tony can answer. He’s glad Gianna’s here, just as firm and clear as she was with Lily before.
“You can tell him we know about Lily, that she’s safe and getting help, and he can too. Also, he’s probably better off if he comes forward and explains what happened.”
“All right.” Taking a deep breath, Colette pulls out her phone. “Why does the thought of calling a student make me so nervous?”
Tony pats her shoulder. “It’s not something you usually do. But he’ll appreciate it. And it’s a good thing to do. Maybe the whole advisor thing will work out better than you think.”
For all the buildup, Sean’s phone number goes straight to voicemail. It’s disappointing, but Colette leaves a well-spoken message all the same. Tony hopes it’s enough.
Meredith joins them shortly after, freshly showered and looking much less exhausted than Tony feels. Lisa comes out of the bedroom and tells them Blake is trying to get Lily to sleep. After a careful knock on the kitchen door, Tony starts handing out plates and food and getting everyone situated somewhere in the mess of the living room. Eventually, Daniel emerges from the office.
Tony’s filling up a plate for him when the buzzer sounds. It’s probably his mom, back to cook some more. She’ll be annoyed he made breakfast already, but she’ll pretend she isn’t, which will be comforting in its normalcy. He buzzes her up without checking on the intercom.
Tony expects her with such certainty that when he opens the door to Detective Taylor, he wonders whether she’s a sleep deprivation hallucination. Did he wish for her to intervene so strongly that she showed up as a badly dressed, poorly tempered Mary Poppins?
She looks about how he feels, no less disheveled than she was at 4:00 a.m. the day before.
“You people, I swear,” she mutters as she pushes past him into the apartment.
“Uh, Detective,” Tony tries, but she won’t let him.
“I told you all specifically not to get involved, to let us do our damn jobs. You ignored everything I said, got yourselves in trouble, made it my problem again , and now, here Professor Rosenbaum is, no worse for wear, eating breakfast?”
“Hi,” Daniel offers weakly. “Sorry for all the extra work.”
“Detective, would you like something to eat?” Meredith offers.
“No, I would like some goddamn answers.”
Meredith gives her a coffee anyway, and she takes a quick gulp.
“So,” Taylor says pleasantly. “Explain to me why my prime suspect had to tell me the kidnapping was solved and not any of you.”
Tony purposely doesn’t look at Emilio.
Emilio shrugs. “No one else here was going to make the call. Couldn’t do nothing.”
Fierce satisfaction nearly bowls Tony over. He wasn’t expecting to feel so pleased about it, but he wanted Emilio to do it. He hinted at it; he’s the one who got Emilio to come here to force Daniel into facing the consequences of Lily’s actions. Guilt follows closely behind the satisfaction though. Is this why Tony had to use Emilio’s car to jump-start the engine? Was Tony planning this in his subconscious?
Unable to stop himself, he looks over at Daniel.
Daniel’s looking back.
He’s not happy.
“Well,” Daniel says tightly. “I guess we’re doing this then.”
“Great. Start now,” Detective Taylor demands.
“I…”
“Let me give you some pointers. Why didn’t you tell me about the murder weapon on the door? Why were you kidnapped? Is it connected to the murder? What was the motive for either crime, and how did your friends know where to find you?”
Daniel sighs. “Do you know what happens when you send a text message to a landline?”
The detective looks close to apoplexy.
“Daniel managed to get the kidnapper’s phone to text a friend’s landline,” Tony translates. “The friend called me.”
“And you ran to Germantown, guns blazing, and didn’t think to inform me.”
“Pretty much. I don’t have a gun though. The murderer does, but we don’t know what happened to it.”
A frown line draws tight between Daniel’s eyebrows. He didn’t think of that yet, then. Just as he hasn’t considered how he places his own guilt and sense of responsibility higher than Emilio and his kid, higher than Sean, higher than how insane Tony has felt since the last time he and Daniel were in a room together.
“God, I should arrest all of you for obstruction of justice.”
Tony shrugs uncomfortably. At least he won’t get fired for having an arrest record.
Stiffly, Daniel says, “We’re just trying to help.”
“No, you’re all putting yourselves in unnecessary danger and not helping me at all.”
The door to the bedroom clicks open. Blake slips out. “Could you all keep it down in here? I finally got her to go to sleep.”
Detective Taylor rolls her eyes. “And who is this one?”
“Blake Walia.” Blake holds out his hand for her to shake.
She does no such thing. “Who are you hiding in the bedroom?”
No one responds. Not even Emilio, though he shifts uncomfortably.
The detective walks toward the bedroom, and Daniel looks to Tony, panicked. Tony can’t offer him anything. What are they supposed to do, stop her? She’s armed, and she can, in fact, arrest them. She probably should.
Taylor pushes open the door, looks inside, and stops dead.
She looks back at them and lets the door fall closed quietly. “That’s Lily Peterson. The girl who tried to kill herself last year.”
Daniel nods slowly. “Yup.”
Detective Taylor rubs a hand across her face tiredly. “Okay. Okay.” She goes to the kitchen, takes a plate, and piles it high with scrambled eggs and toast. Then, she sits on the only chair available in the living room and says, “Go on. Explain yourselves.”
Hesitantly, they crowd around her. Daniel takes a seat on the edge of the foldout couch. Everyone else follows suit, perching on the available surfaces or right on the floor.
“Lily came to my office two days ago,” he starts. “She was confused and panicked. She mentioned the murder weapon, said she’d given it to me, and wanted to know why she hadn’t been arrested yet. She wasn’t speaking coherently, and I didn’t know if it was a confession to the murder or to the threats against me. I tried to call you—”
The detective gives him a look.
“Okay, I tried to call Tony. Before I could, though, Lily drew out a shotgun, or a rifle or… I don’t know anything about guns. Something about a foot and a half long, way too heavy for her—”
“Drew out from where?” Tony asks. Lily was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans last he remembered.
“She had this big duffel coat on. I thought it was weird when she walked in because it’s been so warm, but I didn’t think much of it until…well. She threatened me with the gun, told me I had to come with her. I did, and her boyfriend was waiting outside.”
They didn’t bring any duffel coat with them from the theater. Lily was shivering in her thin clothes every time Tony checked the rearview mirror. He’s only seen one coat like that today, and Sean was wearing it when he left the old theater. If he took the coat and the gun, trying to hide the evidence to protect Lily, he’ll be in so much more trouble than he already is. Tony wishes he could travel back in time and warn Sean. He shouldn’t have hidden in the bushes. He should have talked to Sean. Hell, he should have said something at Amelia Lawrence’s memorial, and then maybe he could have stopped this.
Unaware of Tony’s turmoil, Daniel continues, “He made me give up my phone. He took us to the Continuum, the—”
“I know,” Taylor says around a mouthful, “the independent movie theater in Germantown. Damn shame it shut down.”
Tony can’t take his eyes off of how the detective eats her food. She carefully places a piece of egg on the corner of her toast before taking a bite and then repeats the process ad nauseam.
Colette looks put out that the detective frequented the same movie theater. “You knew it?”
“I have hobbies. Keep going.”
“They must have planned something, or he wouldn’t have had handcuffs. Actually…” Daniel pats down his pockets and pulls out the handcuffs. “And he had a lock for outside the back door. He gave Lily something, pills, to calm her down and keep her quiet, and he took some himself. They got really intense. I guess they were both high. She waved the gun around and fired it at the wall. There were more pills. I didn’t hear everything they said when he took her to the bathrooms, and they, uh…”
Daniel looks around awkwardly. Tony remembers what he said before, and he guesses Daniel doesn’t want to repeat it in front of so many people. He’s still trying to protect Lily, though it’s the detail most likely to raise everyone’s sympathy for her, which she desperately needs.
Daniel must realize that as well. “I could only hear it, but I’m fairly certain they were having sex. I don’t think she wasn’t able to consent because of the drugs, and I wasn’t sure about him either. I was worried about them. I used the quick release on the handcuffs and took her phone—she left it out. I only know one number by heart, my friend Paul in the city, so I texted him. He called Tony, and Tony came and found us.”
“Why didn’t you call 911?”
Daniel sighs. “Honestly? Lily was barely coherent all day. After what happened to Andrew Clayfield and to her last year, I didn’t want her to get arrested without some idea of how to get her stable and thinking clearly. I was worried it would do more damage to her.”
“And you didn’t trust us to—”
“No,” Daniel interrupts. “No, I didn’t. Not after last year.” His eyes flick toward Colette, and the detective looks down at her eggs.
“All right, fine. Mr. d’Angelo shows up. What then?”
“The boyfriend left. Tony and I talked. Tony went out to get help. Lily got sick. She was vomiting for about half an hour before Tony got back with his sister and the tools to break open the lock on the door. We convinced Lily to come with us, got out of there, and came here.”
The detective sets her plate on the coffee table. “And why did Lily, the alleged murderess, need convincing to flee the scene of the crime?”
Slowly, Blake raises his hand. “I might be able to help with that one.”
Everyone turns to him.
“Sheesh,” he mutters. “So, from what Lily told me, she has a Xanax prescription to help manage her anxiety. She’s been on it way too long, though, honestly, and she’s overusing, which means her therapist should have—”
“Blake,” Gianna interrupts.
“Right. So, coming back to Lobell has worsened her anxiety, for obvious reasons. The Xanax wasn’t cutting it, and her boyfriend started trading her. Weed at first, over the summer, but weed’s a depressant too. Neither of them was doing great, and they got in a car crash when he was driving after doing both at the same time. They switched to molly.”
There’s the car crash again. Tony debates saying something about what Sean told him at the memorial, but ultimately, Lily’s in enough trouble. What good would it do to tell everyone she was driving? He’s sure Sean will mention it as soon as the tiniest hint of pressure is put on him.
“She didn’t happen to know how he was getting all these drugs?” Taylor asks.
“I didn’t ask. Not my department.”
“What exactly is molly?” Colette asks.
“Uh, a type of MDMA. Like ecstasy,” Blake explains. “It’s an upper. He gave her molly when she was on a downward spiral, to make her happy. But MDMA basically uses up all the serotonin in your body, and when it wore off, she’d crash into depression and need the Xanax again.”
“Christ.” Daniel leans forward. “Will she be okay?”
“She hasn’t been doing this for long. It’s only been, what, a week or two since that car accident? It’s not good, but with proper care and reliable mental health providers, she’ll be all right physically. I’m more worried about the reliance on Xanax right now.”
It’s rare seeing Blake in professional mode. Tony has known him for so long it’s hard to imagine Blake as anyone other than the kid who dyed his bowl-cut hair black in sophomore year of high school and thought it was the height of fashion even though his hair was naturally so black you couldn’t tell the difference. Goofy as he might be, though, his heart is in the right place, and Tony is incredibly thankful to know him.
“And it was in one of these states that she attacked Professor Lawrence?” Taylor asks.
For a moment, no one answers, and Tony realizes he still doesn’t know how the actual murder happened.
Gianna volunteers. “From what Lily said before, I think what happened is she went to Professor Lawrence’s office to try to get her to agree to accepting last year’s coursework for a grade. She probably didn’t mean it to be a big deal or anything, but she got nervous. Sean—the boyfriend—gave her tips on what to say, but something went wrong. When Professor Lawrence didn’t agree, something happened, and Lily… She mentioned the knife, but it was like she didn’t remember doing it.”
Taylor raises an eyebrow. “Professor Lawrence was stabbed four times.”
Abruptly, Emilio gets up and goes into the kitchen.
Tony winces and makes to stand, but Lisa puts a hand on his elbow. “Let me. You don’t need me for this.”
It’s a fair point, so he lets her go.
“Lily is definitely sure it’s her fault,” Daniel says. “She kept saying it was and waving the gun around. I have no idea where she even got it.”
“Sean’s family hunts.” Gianna’s lips twist in disapproval. “I’m sure that’s where she got the knife as well.”
“If she’s been using drugs regularly, especially combining them, it definitely affected her ability to make choices,” Blake throws in. “It could also be affecting her memory, although trauma affects memory as well, so who knows. I doubt she had a fully worked-out plan. In my professional opinion, she’s not in any state to complete a premeditated crime, but I don’t know why she went after Daniel either.”
Daniel shrugs. “I’m her adviser. She’d been talking to me about how scared she was and how bad she was feeling. She probably thought I knew more than I did.”
Taylor nods slowly. “All right, then. Lily’s sleeping?”
Blake nods. “She’s crashing hard. I’d like to get her to a hospital and, ideally, into treatment with a psychiatrist who can wean her off the Xanax and onto something less addictive.”
“She trusts you,” Taylor says. It’s not quite a question.
“She trusts Gianna. Me by proxy.”
“We’re going to need a police presence at the hospital. She’ll want familiar faces with her.” Taylor turns to Gianna. “And you should be the one to ask her if she wants to do a rape kit.” The detective is blunt about it, and the words are a heavy, leaden weight in the room.
“She took a shower before,” Gianna says. “We kept her clothes, but—”
“She can still get the kit done, but it might not be as conclusive. Put the clothes in a plastic bag and keep them as evidence. If she wants to submit it, she can. She doesn’t have to press charges, but if she gets the kit done, it will be easier. Still can’t promise anything, especially if he was on drugs too.”
The detective drains her cup of coffee. “I will leave you this. When you get yourselves involved in a criminal investigation, at least you get competent help.”
Blake’s chest puffs out ever so slightly. Tony’s going to have to start taking him seriously now.
“In your opinion, is the boyfriend a threat?” Taylor asks. She doesn’t seem to be asking anyone in particular. Daniel makes a doubtful face, while Colette shakes her head minutely.
Tony snorts.
Detective Taylor’s laser focus turns to him.
“Sorry. I just get the impression he’s mostly an idiot.”
“Yup,” Gianna agrees. “He’s obnoxious as shit, and the drugs are concerning, but as far as I know, he’s not a big-time dealer or anything.”
“Hm. Miss Peterson didn’t seem like a threat either, did she?”
Tony winces.
“If he’s where she got both the drugs and the weapons,” Taylor continues, “he’s at least an accessory of some sort.”
“I’m sure the college can tell you where to find him,” Daniel says. “His dorm or address will be on file.” He sounds utterly resigned to yet another student whose life will be ruined by the fallout from Mario.
Colette pulls out her phone again. Tony tries to lean in to see what she’s doing, but she angles the screen away before he can catch more than Sean’s name at the top of the screen. It doesn’t matter. He knows it’s a warning. Daniel must have really gotten to her. Now, she’s following his example of the overly attached mentor.
“As far as I’ve understood from Sean,” Colette says delicately once she’s put her phone away again, carefully out of the detective’s line of sight, “he’s doing his best to support someone he cares about in crisis. It shows integrity for someone so young.”
Detective Taylor absolutely levels Colette with a harsh glare. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree about what integrity means in this case, Professor Ravel.”
She sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You’re all going to have to come down to the station and make statements. That includes Mr. Lawrence in the kitchen, by the way. We’ll have to look for this Sean and any physical evidence before charges can be made. And we’ll need a statement from Miss Peterson as well when she’s able. Chances are when this all goes to trial, you’ll have to explain your actions to a judge and jury.”
“You don’t sound terribly concerned,” Colette says.
“Unfortunately,” Taylor gets out through gritted teeth, “I am well aware some juries will likely view your decisions as understandable and compassionate rather than foolhardy. Some judges might consider a fine. Some won’t.”
“Would some judges consider fining a police officer who accuses people of planting evidence without any investigation?” It slips out of Tony’s mouth, caustic and irritated. “We could have skipped a whole lot of this if you’d done your job.”
Taylor stiffens. She doesn’t answer.
It might not have changed anything. Daniel was always going to prioritize his own guilt.
“We’ll have to consult our lawyer about the legal consequences.” Colette is serious and grave. If Tony didn’t know she just means she’ll call Jeff again whenever he gets home from Malta, he might be concerned.
Detective Taylor gets to her feet and pulls out her phone. “You do that. I have work to do. Mr. Walia, would you mind giving me your contact details so I can arrange a police escort for you and Miss Peterson to get to the hospital?”
“Uh, sure.” Blakes eyes are wide as he gives the detective his full name and number.
Taylor punches in the info, then starts making calls as she heads out the front door. The words “you’re not going to believe this” echo in the hallway as her footsteps retreat down the stairs.
“Whew.” Daniel sinks back into the couch. “Well, that could have gone worse.”
Meredith shakes her head. “You are extremely lucky I came and not Mom and Dad.”
“I love you, too,” Daniel says, dry and sarcastic and nothing like when he said the same thing to Tony only hours ago. “What about your kids, anyway?”
“Won’t kill my husband to take care of them for a few days.”
“Are you sure ?”
Meredith doesn’t dignify that with a response, which is, to Tony’s mind, answer enough. Daniel refers to his brother-in-law exclusively as “fucking Benjamin.” This is probably why. Meredith starts picking up coffee mugs instead and takes them to the kitchen.
Beyond the open door, Tony makes out Emilio on one of the stools by the island with his head hung low. Lisa stands next to him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.
“Think he’ll be okay?” Blake asks.
“No,” everyone else in the room says immediately.
“Sheesh. Just a question.” Blake’s thoughtless comments are a universal constant. It’s good to return things to the status quo.
The escort to get Lily to the hospital arrives soon after. Gianna and Blake pile into the police car to accompany her, and Tony sets about stripping all the bedding in the apartment and starting a load of laundry. So many people have slept and sat on every surface that it feels necessary.
Lisa leaves next, saying she’s going to see Emilio home safely and then try to catch some sleep herself. She promises to call later.
Finally, only Colette and Meredith remain. In a rare fit of sensitivity, Colette helps to clean up the kitchen while Daniel showers and doesn’t say much of anything. Meredith tidies the living room, and Tony suspects it’s more so she has something to do than because she wants to.
Daniel exits the shower, clean and unfortunately also clean-shaven once again, leaving the bathroom free for Tony. Tony hasn’t focused on how gross he feels. He’s been wearing the same clothes for over twenty-four hours, and he smells of stale sweat and cooking fumes. The shower is a blessing.
The apartment is empty when he gets out.
Daniel sits on the couch, petting Worf, who finally emerged from his hiding spot in the cat tree. “Alone at last,” Daniel tells Tony with a smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Sorry,” Tony says.
“You don’t mean that.”
“No, not really. I wish I did.”
“Do you?”
Tony takes a seat next to Daniel, not quite close enough to touch. “I wish you understood what it felt like when you were gone. I wish you’d seen Emilio when we got to him.”
“I understand. Last year, with Stacy, it was terrifying—”
“No, you don’t understand. It was more than a day, Daniel. I thought you had died. I thought I’d never— And Emilio, he’s a wreck. Their kid will never see her mom again. That’s on Lily. She should have come to you sooner, or gone to anyone else, or—”
Daniel shakes his head. “I was supposed to help her. I was supposed to take care of her.”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re a professor, not a therapist!” With energy he didn’t know he had left, Tony springs to his feet. “You’re supposed to teach her, not save her from herself or fix problems you didn’t even know she could have. You keep saying you’re responsible, but you’re not. You just want to stop feeling guilty.”
Daniel’s eyes are wide when Tony looks over at him. His mouth is open a bit, his cheeks flushed with anger. “I—” he starts, and then he crumples in his seat. “You’re right.”
The shock stops Tony in his tracks. “I’m not. I’m angry and scared and so fucking tired. And I know you’re smarter about this stuff than me—”
“No, you’re right.” Daniel laughs ruefully. “I’ve been trying so hard to do everything right that I did wrong with Mario, you know? Being there for Lily. Being there for you. Being compassionate and helping and fixing everyone. I didn’t realize I was making it about me.”
“You weren’t. I needed you. You were there.”
“Yeah, but I can’t fix everything for you.”
“I don’t want you to. I just like when you listen.” Slowly, Tony lets his shoulders drop and his jaw unclench. He sits next to Daniel. “I know why you did it. I know why you want to protect her, and it’s good. It’s right. But you can’t do it on your own, and even if the systems we have suck and don’t work, sometimes, they can do more than you can by yourself.”
“How do I trust that she’ll…”
“You visit. You check up on her. You see how you can help within the system. Even if it sucks. You let someone else be responsible.”
Daniel chokes on a sob as he leans into Tony. “I’m sorry you were so scared.”
“I’m sorry I told Emilio to call the police.”
“We were both doing what we thought was best, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
“Can this day be over now?”
“ Please .” Tony presses a kiss into the top of Daniel’s head. “Wait, what about Meredith? I’m sure she—”
“Colette offered to take her out, show her the campus and stuff.”
Worf drops his whole head into Daniel’s hand, demanding scritches.
“I think they could both tell I’m about to keel over,” he says.
“Yeah. You must be running on no sleep.”
“I dozed off for a bit in the theater. But no real sleep, no. Can we—would you—”
“I haven’t slept either. Let’s go to bed.”
“ Thank you .”
The sheets are still in the washer, so they lie right on the mattress topper, under the uncovered duvet.
“Hey,” Daniel says as Tony’s eyes fall shut.
“Hmm?”
“I told you I’d say it next when you could see my face. I love you.”
Tony snuggles in tight until he can wrap his arms around Daniel’s middle and bury his nose in the base of Daniel’s neck, where his damp hair still smells of his stupid three-in-one shower product. “I love you too.”