Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Noah
Leaving now. Talk later.
I’m about five minutes away from the precinct when the text comes through.
Short. Clipped. Guarded.
A world away from how she was yesterday evening—and last night.
I dial Gabriel.
“Hey. We’re pulling into traffic now. She should be home in twenty-five minutes, barring gridlock.”
“What happened there?”
“No one would tell me anything. Tight-lipped. But Richard, her ex-husband, showed. Flashed his business card, seemed to know someone, and they escorted him up. Less than twenty minutes later they both came down.”
“Must’ve said he’s her lawyer.”
Which means she called him. Asked him to come down.
Makes sense, I suppose. They share a daughter.
Can’t say it gives me the warm and fuzzies—which is probably a warning sign, or as my sister might call it, a flashing red light.
“That’s my take,” Gabriel agrees. “They had a noticeable disagreement in the parking lot though.”
“Shouting?”
“Angry words. I was standing off to the side, couldn’t catch all of it, but I’d say something happened in interrogation that didn’t sit well with her ex.”
“That’s hardly her fault.”
“Oh, he’d argue otherwise. At least, that’s the gist of it. She brushed him off though. Told him it was nothing, he was reading into it, which is what the detective likely wants when they’re on a wild goose chase. She told Richard she’d talk to him later when she didn’t have a splitting headache.”
“Seems you heard a lot.”
“Well, that part. She spoke clearly. He got up right on her—talking into her ear. For a split second, I thought he might hurt her, but he backed off quickly. When she spoke, I was a lot closer.”
Based on his description, I can envision the scene. From what I’ve observed, there’s controlled tension between Alicia and her ex. They’d both be aware they were in public.
“If the cops had anything, they’d press charges. It’s got to be a fishing expedition.”
I say it like a fact.
Doesn’t mean I believe it.
“Maybe,” Gabriel says.
“You don’t agree?”
“Based on what I observed today, I don’t think we’re working with the whole picture.”
“What did you say you did before this?”
“Military intelligence.”
“Ah, that’s right.” I knew he was military. It was his whole picture gambit that had me asking. “Why’d you leave?”
“Same as you. Family matters.”
His clipped tone tells me that’s as far as we’re touching the topic.
“Alright. I’ve turned around, heading back to Alicia’s.”
“Copy that. FYI, it appears her ex is following her home. But he lives nearby. I’ll text if he pulls up. I won’t leave until you arrive.”
“It was that tense?”
“Tense enough.”
“Copy that,” I answer, and press down harder on the accelerator.
Minutes after the call ends, my father’s name flashes.
I answer with, “Hey Dad.”
“What are you up to?”
“Driving.”
“I won’t keep you long. Wanted to see if you might be home this weekend. Roger’s son is in town. He’s hiring, and he likes vets. His company is doing well. An IPO within the next three to five years is reasonable. Would be a good time to join.”
“I don’t think I’ll be headed home this weekend, Dad.”
“Working seven days a week in a job with no future?”
“The project’s intensifying.”
“You’re going to get burnt out making someone else rich.”
“It’s not all work. I’ve got a date Friday night.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“What’s she like?”
“I tell you what,” I adjust the rearview after catching sight of a green SUV that turned off the exit when I did. “I’ll tell you all about it if the date goes well.”
“That’s fair. Surprised you mentioned it at all. I guess I’ll talk to you on Sunday.”
He ends the call without waiting for a response, as is his way.
The green SUV turns left, and I stay focused on getting back to Alicia’s. But when I arrive, she’s not in the house.
I call Gabriel.
“I’m back. Alicia’s not here.”
“I’m aware. She picked up her daughter and she’s headed to M Street.”
“You staying with her?”
“I’m on her tail. Her ex headed home. Plan to stay back with her car.”
“Logic?”
“She’s safe in the crowds. But if someone’s targeting her, her car might not be.”
“Have you been tailed?”
“Not that I’ve picked up on. But in this district, this time of day, there are no guarantees.”
“Copy that.”
After the car incident the other day, his logic is solid.
Ninety minutes later, headlights sweep the carport. I’m at the window before I register movement.
Through the glass, I watch her kill the engine. She doesn’t move.
Just sits there, hands locked on the wheel, her silhouette cut sharp against the streetlight.
Stella’s already out, backpack bouncing. But Alicia stays frozen.
I count to ten.
Then twenty.
Finally, she moves.
The gate rumbles shut. I force myself downstairs, giving her space.
“Homework,” I hear her say upstairs, voice steady. Controlled.
The mask’s back on.
I return to the main floor, close the blinds, arm the system. Her office door clicks shut.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to go up there.
But those are the instincts of someone who cares. Not someone who’s paid to guard a door.
She went upstairs without a word. Message received.
It’s after eleven and I’m sitting in the basement den watching ESPN recaps when I hear footsteps on the stairs.
Stella’s light went off an hour ago—I checked the monitors.
Alicia hesitates in the doorway. Tension permeates her being.
She’s pulled her dark hair back into a low, loose bun, and in her loungewear, she’s casual, but her eyes, dark in this light, read as worried.
I pat the cushion beside me, gesturing for her to join me.
“You’ve had a day,” I say, brokering the silence.
She grimaces, nods and with slow steps, moves forward.
“Tell me about it,” I say, hoping she’ll share.
“About the precinct?” She sinks into the sofa and pulls a knee up to her chest, looping her arms around it.
“What’d they want?”
Hudson and I exchanged messages earlier this evening. He’s working on his end for information, but the investigative team is being tightlipped.
“The detective may have uncovered something from my past—” She stops and shakes her head, then palms her forehead. “No, he didn’t. It’s…”
“What might he have uncovered?” I ask, genuinely intrigued. It’s hard to imagine this woman having anything shady in her past.
“No,” she shakes her head again, chewing on her lip. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me,” I prod. “I’ll tell you if it’s nothing.”
“No.” Her lips turn up slightly on the ends, almost wistful. “I’ve cultivated the ability to keep secrets and I’m not going to let a desperate detective with no leads dig up something long buried.”
“That’s…intriguing.”
She blinks like she’s snapping out of a fog.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Two glasses of wine and I’m…” she lets the words trail.
“You know, I’m not a lawyer, but it’s my understanding that in a criminal investigation it’s best to be upfront about everything.”
She cocks her head, studying me. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you everything, but for today, all you need to know is that I didn’t have anything to do with Matthew Delacroix’s death.”
“I know that.”
Her eyes snap to mine—searching, almost desperate. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” I hold her gaze. “I do.”
Something in her shoulders gives. Not much. Just enough.
“The detective…” She stops, starts again. “He implied he knew things. Personal things. But he was fishing. He had to be.”
“What kind of things?”
She shakes her head, jaw tight. “Things I’ve worked very hard to keep buried. Things that have nothing to do with murder but everything to do with…” Her voice cracks. Just barely. “Everything to do with who I was a long time ago.”
That’s a significant statement.
“You don’t owe me your past,” I say quietly. “But for what it’s worth? I’ve seen who you are now. That’s what matters.”
Her exhale shakes. “I keep telling myself that.”
“Then maybe start believing it.”
She stares at the silent TV, where a car commercial plays in muted colors.
“When my parents died, when I was fifteen,” she says, voice hollow.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye. The car accident—so unexpected.
And today, after sitting in that interrogation room, all I’ve been able to think is—if they charge me, if I lose Stella, if everything I’ve earned disappears—” Her breath hitches.
“I’d be that girl again. Alone. Shattered. ”
I shift closer. Close enough that our shoulders touch.
“You’re not alone,” I tell her.
She turns then, and her eyes are wet. The armor’s gone.
“Noah—” Her voice breaks. “I can’t fall apart. Not now. Not when Stella might—”
“You don’t have to be strong right now.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Not with me.” I mean it. “Not here.”
For a long moment, she just looks at me. Then, so quietly I almost miss it:
“Hold me?”
I open my arms, and she comes to me—not gracefully, but like someone who’s been holding herself together too long and finally has permission to stop.
She tucks against my chest, and I feel the moment she breaks—silent tears soaking through my shirt, her fingers gripping my sides like I’m the only solid thing in her world.
I don’t say anything. Don’t tell her it’ll be okay or that she’s safe. She’s too smart for platitudes.
Instead, I hold her. One hand on her back, the other cradling her head. And I let her shake apart.
Minutes pass. Maybe longer. The TV cycles through commercials. Rain patters against the windows.
Eventually, her breathing evens out. The trembling stops.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth. Hesitates. Then lifts back to my eyes.
The air shifts.
“Noah…” It’s not a question. Not quite.
I know what I should do. Stand up. Keep boundaries. Remember she’s a client, she’s vulnerable, she’s miles out of my league in every way that matters.
She pulls back just enough to look at me.
Eyes red. Clear.
I should stop this.
She’s vulnerable. I know it. She knows it.
I don’t move.
She does.
When she leans in—slow enough that I could stop this, that we both could—I don’t.
The kiss is soft. Careful.
Her hand comes up to cup my jaw, and careful becomes something else entirely.
I pull her closer, and she comes willingly—shifting until she’s straddling my lap, her fingers exploring my shoulders, my neck, my scalp, her mouth opening under mine.
It’s not about comfort anymore.
“We should—” I start, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t think. Please. Just…”
“Alicia—”
She kisses me again, and this time there’s no hesitation. No testing. Just need—raw and honest and impossible to ignore.
When she takes my hand and stands, pulling me toward the basement guest room, I follow.
Because sometimes the right thing and the smart thing aren’t the same.
Tonight, I choose her.