Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Noah
An hour after Jessica was driven away, I’m at the precinct in a waiting room.
Alicia is in a private room with her lawyers and the detective on her case.
Somewhere in the building Jessica is being interrogated by police officers, as is Danny, her cousin.
Richard’s also being interrogated—but from what I can tell, he’s not a suspect.
Jake and his girlfriend, Daisy, are back at Alicia’s with Stella. They offered to stay as late as needed.
Alicia needed to answer questions, and her lawyers jumped on the chance to do it at the precinct. I understand the strategy. They’re aiming for all charges against her to be dropped in light of new evidence that has surfaced.
Gabriel and I have been on the phone with Hudson and Quinn.
A detective approaches. “Noah Bennett? Gabriel Martin?”
We both push up from the chairs.
“Please come back with me.”
He turns, and we both fall in line.
The frustrating thing about police involvement is that the case is out of our hands. We can’t ask the questions we need answers to. We’re trusting law enforcement officers to get as much information as possible before defense lawyers show up.
The officer leads us into a windowless room with a long table and multiple chairs. Alicia’s seated between two of her lawyers.
When we enter the room, her lawyer is the first to speak. “Charges are dropped.” Alicia looks relieved, but also emotionally spent. “We have some updates. If you want to join us.”
The lawyer to Alicia’s left rises, vacating a seat for me. I take it and hold out my hand for Alicia. She readily places her hand in mine.
Gabriel takes a seat across from us.
One of the detectives mentions he’ll be back.
The detective who led us to the back crosses his arms and stands at the head of the table. “None of this is to leave this room. Danny has yet to request a lawyer, and he’s been singing like a canary.”
My first thought is why, but the detective reads me.
“He’s jittery. Seems to believe if he’s a source, we’ll let him walk. He’s going into withdrawal. Shakes and sweats. To be honest, an addict’s not the best witness. But he’s told us enough, we’ll get all the evidence we need.”
“And what has he told you?”
I look to Alicia—I can tell from her calm demeanor she already knows.
“The murder, the framing of Alicia, it was all planned by Jessica. She pulled in Danny to help where he could. The PI. The tracker. She also used a threat—sent to Ms. Morgan’s office.”
“The fortune cookie,” Alicia explains.
“Right,” the detective says. “Danny says she’d been watching Morgan for a while.
Knew enough about her and a prior case she’d been working on to make it look like it came from somewhere else.
Danny confessed to breaking into Alicia’s car to plant evidence—but says he was interrupted before he finished.
He claims he didn’t know the substance Jessica gave him to slip into Delacroix’s drink would kill him.
He claims he thought it would make him sick—and after the death, she used it against him to help her cover everything up. ”
“Do you believe him?” I ask, looking between the lawyers and the two detectives in the room.
“Based on the current evidence? No. I think he’s playing that card to aim for second-degree murder charges. But, there’s still a lot here to be investigated. Prosecution will need to determine what they can prove in court.”
Gabriel speaks up. “If he’s an addict, all she had to do was hold drugs over his head to get him to do what she wanted.”
“That’s our prevailing theory. Jessica might also be addicted to a substance—we’re unsure. She’s refused a blood test,” the detective says.
“Richard hired a defense lawyer for her,” Alicia says at my side.
“Do you think he’s—”
Alicia’s quick to interrupt me. “No. I think it’s a gut reaction. He feels responsible for her—for what’s happened. But, he didn’t have a part in this.”
“At the moment, that’s our assessment too,” the detective says, and the way he looks at Alicia, I sense they’ve already had this discussion, and his comment is for my benefit.
“And Delacroix’s wife?”
“She and Jessica play in the same tennis league. There’s a connection there, but no phone records connect them.”
I understand what the detective is saying—it’s reasonable to believe Jessica crossed paths with someone who had heard rumors about Alicia and Matthew Delacroix, and that’s Jessica’s source of information.
Regardless, charges against Alicia are dropped.
“Any mentions of third parties? Anyone influencing outcomes?”
The detective opens his mouth, then closes it.
Alicia squeezes my hand.
The detective says with firm confidence, “At this point in the investigation, we have no evidence others are involved.”
The detective looks down at his notes again. When he speaks, his tone softens—just a fraction.
“Ms. Morgan, you are free to go. Unless…do you have any more questions?”
Alicia exhales, not sharply, but with a slow, trembling release that tells me what she hasn’t said aloud: she never fully believed this moment would come.
I tighten my grip on her hand.
Her lawyer nods, satisfied. “We’ll finalize the paperwork and communicate with the prosecutors.” He says to Alicia, “You won’t need to appear in court on Monday.”
Alicia’s eyes lift to mine. She’s not crying. She’s not even shaking anymore.
She’s steady. Resolute. And free.
For the first time in hours, my lungs stop feeling like steel coils pulled too tight.
“Is there anything else that you’ve learned that you can share with us?” Gabe asks.
The detective glances between us. “They’ve both mentioned that many people hate Alicia. Could be rationalization. Could be drugs talking. It’s likely nothing. For now, we are not pursuing additional suspects.”
It’s said too cleanly. Too decisively.
But I heard the hesitation. And based on the faint shift in Alicia’s posture, so did she.
We’ll revisit that later.
“Thank you,” Alicia says, voice steady but tired. “All of you.”
The detective leaves. Her lawyers gather their files. Gabe stands.
And for the first time since the moment I saw Jessica lunging with a gun, Alicia turns fully toward me, free hand lifting to rest against my jaw.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
I almost laugh. Groan. Pull her into my arms and never let go.
Instead, I cover her hand with mine. “Not until you walk out of here.”
She leans forward, forehead resting briefly against my shoulder. Not long. Not inappropriate. Just enough to crack something open inside me.
“I meant it,” she breathes. “Upstairs. When I said you got there in time.”
I close my eyes for a beat. “I’ll always be there.”
Her fingers tighten around mine.
Gabe clears his throat. “I’ll check in with Hudson.”
Alicia nods, exhausted. “Thank you.”
When the room empties, I help her stand. She’s not fragile, but she’s depleted. Hollowed out by adrenaline and fear and the unimaginable weight of being wrongly accused.
“Take me home?” she asks softly.
Something hot and fierce flashes through my chest with her question.
“Yes,” I say. “Always.”
We walk out of the precinct together—hand in hand—into the crisp night. There’s a moment when the cold air hits her cheeks and she tilts her head back, breathing like someone who’s just surfaced from underwater.
She’s free.
The door closes behind us.
And for the first time since this began, it settles in that we have a real future together.