19. Reid
Reid
Reid was already halfway through the explanation when he realized the director wasn’t listening.
Sullivan was sitting back in her chair, hands folded loosely.
“Reid,” she said, brusque. “You’re too close to this.”
Reid held her gaze. “My wife was framed.”
His boss studied him for a moment, then leaned forward slightly.
“You’ve got a good reputation here,” she said. “Don’t throw that away with wild accusations.”
The file lay open on her desk. Printouts of analysis, additional notes in pen. They were Reid’s notes, Reid’s analysis. Work that had put his wife in handcuffs.
Reid couldn’t look at it without seeing Maya’s hands instead. The way her wrists had looked when the cuffs closed around them.
He dragged his gaze back up.
“It was handled correctly,” the director said firmly.
“No,” Reid said, more sharply than he intended. “It wasn’t.”
Sullivan’s expression remained neutral. As if this were simply another office matter to be handled. As if a woman’s life hadn’t been destroyed by Reid’s stupidity.
“I wasn’t objective,” he said. “I wasn’t professional. I wasn’t correct.”
Sullivan’s expression didn’t change.
He could feel it now. The bias that had been invisible to him at the time but was now impossible to ignore.
“I built a shoddy case,” he continued, his voice even but no longer neutral. “And then I acted on it.”
Sullivan watched him carefully.
“Your wife was the subject of a legitimate investigation,” Sullivan said.
“She is innocent.”
Sullivan studied him for a moment, then shook her head, her irritation visible.
“If you don’t drop this,” she said, “you’ll permanently damage your career.”
Reid didn’t give a fuck about his career right now. He needed to fix the mess he’d made. He needed Maya to come home.
He didn’t know how he was going to fix everything yet.
He was going to start with her bank account.
It wasn't enough. It wasn't close to enough. But Maya had taught him that you didn't wait for the whole fix, you started with the door that was actually in front of you.
He couldn’t undo the handcuffs. Couldn’t undo the holding cell. Couldn’t undo the look on Maya’s face when he told her to leave.
But he would give her back access to her own money at least.
Reid didn’t know what he looked like, but Thomas Merritt widened his eyes at the sight of him.
He crossed his arms and said nothing.
"Mr. Merritt," Reid said. “I’m Reid Lawson. I need to speak with Maya.”
“I know who you are, young man.” Thomas narrowed his eyes, and swept his gaze up and down Reid. He paused on the folder in Reid’s hand.
“Well,” Thomas said at last, frowning. “I suppose you better come in.” He stepped aside.
Reid entered, his focus already moving past the hallway, instinctively searching—
Thomas shut the door behind him. “You can survive five minutes without seeing her.”
Reid wasn’t sure that was true but he followed him into the sitting room anyway.
Thomas sat down in the armchair and pointed at the sofa. “Sit.”
Reid sat. The folder rested on his knee, his fingers tapping once against the edge before he forced them still.
Reid swallowed. “I’ve brought the documentation to restore Maya’s bank accounts.”
The paperwork felt grotesquely inadequate in his hands.
“What kind of man,” Thomas asked, “humiliates his own wife in front of the people in her community?”
Reid’s mouth went dry. He remembered Maya seeing him as he arrived that morning. She had looked happy. She had smiled at him. God.
Thomas didn’t stop.
"You were her husband. And you failed her.”
The words hurt. The truth of them hurt. Reid could feel the hot and relentless pulse of his shame.
“And then,” Thomas continued, voice hardening, “after you dragged her through public disgrace, you left her sitting in a cell.”
Reid closed his eyes.
“It’s unforgivable.”
Reid’s hands clenched around the folder. He didn't argue. There was nothing to argue. It was all true.
“You threw her out of her home.”
A silence followed, thick and brutal.
Reid swallowed hard. Every part of him ached with regret. “I know,” he said hoarsely. The words felt useless. “It’s killing me.”
Thomas frowned at him. “You do not get to show up here wild-eyed and wounded and make your regret her problem.”
Reid nodded once, barely.
“You sign whatever needs signing. You answer questions if she asks them. But if you make one single move toward asking that woman to comfort you, I will throw you out myself.”
Reid believed him.
“I’ll tell her you brought the papers.” Thomas stood.
He paused in the doorway. His expression was cold.
“You are not the victim in here.”
Then he left, leaving Reid alone with the folder on his knee and the sound of his own breathing in the quiet room.