Chapter Forty-Four Nic
Chapter Forty-Four
Nic
I feel like I live in this damn hospital.
First, it was two nights to treat my head injury; now it’s daily visits to see Mindy. I’ve spent more time here over the past two weeks than in the rest of my life combined.
“Nic, nice to see you today,” Mindy’s nurse says as I walk into her hospital room.
“Hey, Nic!” Mindy says from the bed. A massive cast encases her leg. Dark bruises linger under her eyes. But each day, she looks stronger.
Her second surgery Wednesday morning went well. According to the nurses I’ve talked to, she’s healing up fast. Barring any surprises, she should be released tomorrow.
I settle on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Mind. How’re you doing?”
She gives me a thumbs-up. “Good. I can’t wait to get home tomorrow, see my cat, sleep in my own bed.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say for the hundredth time.
She replies as she always does: “Nic, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She puts her hand over mine.
A part of me worries I might be leading Mindy on with these daily visits, but we’ve been friends for two decades. Plus, I feel responsible for what happened to her.
She could have died, and it would have been my fault.
Well, actually, it would have been Harriet’s.
Of all the people in the world, she brought Mindy to that office?
Martin? He’s an EMT. He knows how to handle himself in difficult situations.
But Mindy? She’s so gentle. So innocent.
She needed a blood transfusion when she arrived at the hospital. They said it was lucky Martin was there; if it hadn’t been for him, she would have died.
I’m so angry at Harriet that even the thought of her name sends my blood pressure soaring. I’ve barely spoken to her—not for lack of trying on her end.
I needed space to think.
Still do in fact. How can I ever trust her again? She was using me. All she cared about was that stupid fucking job, and once she got it back, she was going to disappear. Just like she did eight years ago.
“Any word yet on whether they’ve found anything linking Luke to George’s death?” Mindy asks, as she does every day I’m here.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
The cops tackled Luke in the parking lot as he was sprinting toward his car. He was arrested on the spot.
Martin’s since heard that the cops were on his trail even before Harriet and I got involved.
They’d found security footage of him arguing with Barbara outside the walk-in fridge right before she died.
Plus, he’d left enough DNA at the scene to clone himself.
Sharkey and his corrupt cronies were left with no choice; they were going to have to charge him.
Criminal mastermind, Luke is not.
He’s facing charges for murder, attempted murder, bribery of government officials. My hope is that he’ll be behind bars for a long, long time.
Mindy, bless her heart, managed to email the contents of Barbara’s binder to a reporter at the Pleasantville Times just days after she had surgery on her thigh. She asked me before she did, wondering if she should give it to Harriet instead, but I told her to go for it.
Maybe a dick move. But Harriet is familiar with those.
The ensuing article kicked off internal investigations at both the LIPD and the LIFD.
County investigators were brought in. Michael Krischer, the fire inspector who signed off on the faulty wiring report, was put on leave, and his cousin, Ryan Krischer, who sent the invoice for thirty grand to George, was brought in for questioning.
As it stands, the two of them are potentially facing multiple charges, including racketeering, money laundering, and fraud.
The mayor’s office is claiming total ignorance. DiPetrio threw her cousin under the bus, blaming him for everything and firing him from the zoning board.
And even with all that, Sara’s still in jail. The jail on the mainland now, where fights break out daily.
“I don’t get it,” Mindy says. “What happened to George must be related to what happened to Barbara. Do you think”—she drops her voice to a whisper—“Dominic did it?”
I swallow. Martin made us all promise not to tell the cops about Dominic, and as far as I know, Luke hasn’t either. We don’t know who in that department is trustworthy and who might be tangled up with what Luke and Dominic had going on. If they tip him off that we talked, he’ll come for us.
Mindy’s a sitting duck. She can’t even get out of bed. She’d be in an enormous amount of danger, and I won’t allow that. Not again.
“I don’t know,” I say and then change the subject. Mindy doesn’t deserve to have the stress of all this weighing on her right now. She needs to focus on healing.
Toward the end of our chat, a doctor walks into the room. He’s older, maybe around forty, with salt-and-pepper hair and a beard. His face lights up when he sees Mindy.
“Ms. Washington. Always a pleasure,” he says, smiling at her over his clipboard. Mindy turns beet red, and seconds later, they’re deep in conversation.
Huh. Maybe I don’t have to worry about leading her on after all.
Mindy giggles at a groan-worthy dad joke, and I rise to my feet. I don’t want to interrupt their conversation, but I’m due at my parents’ house soon, and it’s pretty clear my time here has come to an end.
I make my excuses and head out.
I text my mom as I stride down the hallway, letting her know I’m on the way. Ever since the office incident, she’s insisted on me staying in almost constant communication with her.
I round a corner and slam straight into someone.
“Ow!”
It’s Harriet. Who else would it be?
“Oh! Hi,” she says, tugging at the bottom of her T-shirt. Her cheeks are red. She clears her throat. “Are you… Did you… Were you seeing Mindy?”
I nod.
“Oh. Right. Cool.” She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her shorts, eyes trained on the ground. I’ve never seen her like this before—nervous, stumbling over her words like she’s not sure what to say. “I…uh, can we talk—”
“I gotta go,” I say, cutting her off. She’s texted me I’m sorry so many times I’ve lost count, but I’m still not ready to hear whatever it is she wants to say.
I wonder if she’s still writing her article. The one in the Times focused on the island’s corruption—zoning scandal, the casino, Barbara’s death, Luke. But there was nothing about Sara.
Does Harriet even care? Or did she drop the story as soon as the juiciest bits went public?
Sara needs me, but I’m wondering if it’s better if I continue on alone. No blue-eyed distractions. No wondering about other people’s motives.
Harriet’s face falls. “I really need to talk to you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t yet. Okay?”
She chews on the bottom lip I kissed. “Please?” she says. “Nic.”
Her pull is magnetic, and I can feel my anger slipping.
I remind myself: She was going to leave me. Again. Maybe she would have said goodbye this time, but that doesn’t change the fact that she never told me it was her plan all along.
I can’t trust her.
“Sara’s still in jail, you know,” I say. “They’re trying to say Luke didn’t kill him.”
“I know,” she says. “Of course I know that. That’s what I want to talk about. I want to help. Please—”
I cut her off. “I’ll see you later, Harriet,” I say. And I walk away.