Chapter 19
Nicole
I was slumped in the driver’s seat, parked right in front of the state police station where Detective Nolan worked. The engine was off, the windows cracked just enough to let in the cool air from the parking lot.
I’d been sitting here for at least three and a half hours.
If he didn’t come out soon, I’d have to leave to pick up the kids from school. Brian could no longer be trusted to manage even the basics.
The lawyer appointment had been fast. The second he realized who I was and what I needed, he declined. The case was too hot.
I could crawl back to Jack, but after he’d billed us $84,897 and hadn’t even bothered to read through all the files, I wasn’t so sure that was the best idea.
Because, at this point, it all made sense.
Thomas Harlow and his bloodhound, Kara Belmont, didn’t care about any leads that could prove Lacey’s innocence.
I had to do more. I had to drag the real killer to them—served up on a silver plate.
I was about to leave and come back later, when the station door finally creaked open again and Nolan walked out.
I straightened immediately and got out of the car.
He moved quickly across the lot toward his SUV, but it didn’t take long for him to notice he was being followed. He turned mid-step.
“Nicole?” His brow lifted. His brown hair looked a little tousled, and his suit pants were wrinkled.
“Sorry for ambushing you,” I said. “But is there anywhere we can talk?”
He looked over his shoulder at the building behind him.
“Private,” I added before he could say anything. That landed. I saw it in the way his gaze dropped, thoughtful, uneasy.
Talking to me out in the open was already a risk. Talking to me inside, where everyone could see, would be career suicide.
Nobody wanted to be seen as an enemy of the attorney general.
“Please,” I said quietly.
It didn’t sway him right away.
“Lacey, my daughter … she has cancer. Did you know that?” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard to stop the hot pressure rising in my throat.
He exhaled like the air had been knocked out of him. “God. No, I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
I watched the tension tighten his face. He was doing the math, deciding whether to listen to me or walk away.
“It’s not really my case anymore,” he said.
“You’re still listed as the detective.”
“On paper.” His voice lowered. “But the fact that you waited for me in the parking lot tells me you and I both know who’s really running the show.”
I nodded, stepped closer, and locked eyes with him.
“I do. And that’s the problem. Because whatever my daughter is accused of, this is still the United States of America.
And the last time I checked, she has rights.
Including the right to be presumed innocent.
And the right to a fair trial. Now tell me—has this trial been fair so far, Detective Nolan? ”
He looked away.
I nodded. “That’s what I thought. Let me ask you something else.
If you get into your car knowing all this, can you look in the mirror tonight and tell yourself you did the right thing?
Maybe walking away from a mother asking the police to do their job isn’t that hard.
I give you that. But what about the chance that the murderer is still out there?
Getting away with murder. Maybe killing again. ”
His sigh was heavy. But he was still torn.
“Do you …” My voice dropped as a pair of officers passed us, shooting curious glances as they greeted him. I waited for them to walk off.
“Do you remember that phone call? The one made to the police when you were little. About your father?”
He froze. “Oh no. Don’t do that. That’s below you.”
I laughed, dry and bitter. “Look at me. There isn’t much below me anymore.
My family’s financially ruined, thanks to a shitty lawyer.
The government’s blaming my daughter for something she didn’t do just to settle an old score.
And my only child is dying in jail of cancer.
So, no. Telling you it was me who called the police on your abusive father and saved you is not below me. Not anymore.”
He didn’t speak.
“Did you know that I lied for you back then?” I added.
“What?” His eyes widened.
I shrugged. “I sure did. I mean, I never saw your dad hit you. I never saw any of what I told the police back then. But I saw your mother’s bruises.
And yours. I saw the fear in your eyes and the way you jumped at every little noise.
I saw him grab her in the hallway before a parent-teacher conference and whisper something in her ear that made her cry. ”
He stared at me, wide-eyed.
“So I lied and told the police that he hurt you in front of me during a home visit. I said he threatened to kill me if I ever told the police. That’s what finally got him arrested. And you all were able to leave.”
He stared at me for a moment, nodded once, then turned and walked to his SUV.
“Meet me at the Hot Mug” was all he said and climbed in.
I rushed back to my car and typed the name into my phone.
A soup and coffee shop not far from here.
When I arrived, I spotted him parked in one of the spots at the edge of the parking lot. He waited until I pulled up before he got out and jogged to my door. I unlocked it, and he climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thank you for doing this,” I said.
He nodded. Less bitter than I expected, considering I had just emotionally blackmailed him.
“Anything for my childhood savior,” he said with a trace of sarcasm. “But I honestly don’t know how I can help. Kara Belmont is running the investigation. Everything goes through the attorney general now. My name is just there for show.”
“Attorney General Thomas Harlow,” I said.
“Thomas fucking Harlow,” he confirmed. “A real prick. I don’t know anybody who can stand him. But he’s the most powerful man in the state. And nobody wants to piss him off.”
I let out a breath. “Life really got me good on that one.”
“Yeah. It did. Which is why I don’t think I can do anything. Even if I wanted to.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out the officer’s report from the gas station.
“Have you seen this before?”
He took it, read through it carefully, and shook his head. “No. I remember requesting the 911 call logs from the night of the murder when I started the investigation, but this report must have come in after I got pulled off the case. This has Kara Belmont written all over it.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a detective,” he said, a little too proudly. “Look at this last sentence in the report. Where it says there’s no connection between the gas station call and Zach’s murder.”
He pointed at it.
“The gas station call came in before the body was found. So how could the officer say there was no connection to a murder he didn’t even know existed yet? That line was added later to his already written report.”
He flipped back to the top of the page.
“Besides, no patrol cop would take it on himself to call a potential lead to a murder unrelated. Not unless someone above him told him to do so.”
His jaw tightened as he read the last lines again. “Goddammit,” he cursed under his breath. Then he handed the paper back to me.
“Now what do we do?” I asked.
“We gotta go.” He opened the door.
“Go where?”
“The gas station. Meet me there.”
I glanced at the clock. I was more than an hour north of home and had to pick up the kids. But if I moved fast, I could do both.
I typed the gas station into my GPS as Detective Nolan got into his car.
I was anxious but also hopeful. For the first time, there might be real evidence—not just my word—that Lacey didn’t do this.
Now all I had to do was find the real killer. And that was as terrifying as it sounded.