Chapter 20 #2
"Or he sealed the cases because he was compromised," Knox says.
"A judge who buries evidence under coercion is still a judge who buried evidence.
The sealing procedure bypasses normal judicial review.
Webb handled the paperwork. Whether Lawrence acted out of fear for his daughter or out of self-preservation, the result is the same.
Three cases that could have brought down the pipeline disappeared. "
Malachi leans forward. "What do we know about Webb's relationship to Lawrence?"
"Law school classmates," Knox says. "Georgetown.
Same year. Webb went into court administration.
Lawrence went to the bench. They've maintained contact through professional channels, but there's a personal layer the records don't capture.
Webb didn't just file the paperwork. He made sure nobody could reconstruct the trail. "
"Nash." Malachi's voice is level. "What's your read?"
Everyone looks at me.
I stare at the name on the screen. Lawrence Leighton.
The man who flinched at Naya's name. The man whose letterhead appeared in sealed files.
Who raised a daughter so loud, so bright, so full of life that she fills every room she enters and makes sure everyone in it is taken care of before she thinks about herself.
The man whose sealed cases might be the reason Sera disappeared.
"I think he sealed those cases to protect Ruby," I say. "I think he found out his daughter was in danger and did what any father would do. He used every tool he had to make the threat disappear."
"And Sera?" East asks.
"Sera was collateral. The cases Lawrence sealed contained evidence that could have been used to dismantle the pipeline. When he buried that evidence, the pipeline survived. Sera disappeared the same year."
The room goes quiet.
"We can't know that for certain," Malachi says. "Not without talking to Lawrence himself."
"I know."
"And Ruby?"
My jaw locks. The headband presses against the table where my wrist rests.
"Ruby finds out when I'm ready to tell her," I say. "When I can tell her the full truth. What her father did, why he did it, what it cost."
"And if she finds out before you're ready?" East asks.
"She won't."
East holds my gaze but doesn't push it.
"She's stronger than you think, son," James says from his chair. "Trust her with it."
I don't answer. Knox closes the laptop, and Malachi stands.
The ride back to Ruby's apartment is quiet. The air is warm, streetlights coming on, the town settling into evening. Rider's bike is at the curb and he nods when I pass. I take the stairs two at a time, and the deadbolt turns from the inside before I reach the door.
Ruby opens it barefoot, still in my shirt, her hair pulled up, a wooden spoon in one hand.
"You're early," she says.
"I'm on time."
"You said eight. It's seven-forty-five. That's early. I'm making a thing about it because you being early means you wanted to get back to me, and I need you to know I noticed."
I step inside, grip the back of her neck, and pull her against me. My arms tighten around her until there's no space left. The wooden spoon presses into my back where her hand wraps around me. She smells like garlic, tomatoes, and vanilla; I breathe her in until my lungs ache.
"How was the clubhouse?" she asks against my chest.
"Fine."
"Fine as in fine, or fine as in you're carrying something and you're not ready to talk about it?"
I press my lips into her hair. She doesn't push. She holds me, her hand steady on my back, the wooden spoon still in her grip, and gives me the silence I need without asking for anything in return.
"The second one," I say.
She pulls back and searches my face, reading whatever she finds there.
"Okay," she says. "Soup's in ten minutes. You can carry it through dinner. But Nash?"
"Yeah."
"When you're ready to put it down, I'm right here."
She holds my eyes for three seconds. Then she turns back to the stove, wooden spoon in hand.
"I should warn you," she says over her shoulder. "I made soup. From scratch. It might be terrible. If it's terrible, you have to eat it anyway because I spent an hour on it and my ego is fragile."
"Your ego is the least fragile thing about you."
"That's hurtful. That's deeply hurtful. I'm going to put extra salt in your bowl.
" She stirs the pot. "Also, I ate half the gummy worms. The sour ones.
While you were gone. I regret nothing. Well, I regret approximately nothing.
I regret the last four because my tongue is numb, but the first twelve were phenomenal. "
"You counted them?"
"I always count candy, Nash. That's just responsible consumption."
She ladles soup into two bowls, sets mine on the table, and sits across from me. Her bare foot finds my ankle underneath. She picks up her spoon, takes a bite, and her face goes through a complicated journey.
"It's not terrible," she says. "It's aggressively okay. Frankie would be horrified."
"It's good."
"You don't have to lie."
"I'm not lying."
"Your jaw does a thing when you lie. I've been cataloging it. I have data." She points her spoon at me. "Eat your soup, Nashville."
I eat. She watches me eat, her chin propped on her hand, her foot tracing circles against my ankle.
"So Kyle texted the group chat," she says.
"All caps. WHERE IS MY CLIPBOARD. Question mark, question mark, exclamation point.
Like someone stole a national treasure." She takes a bite of soup.
"I have it. I stole it during girls' night.
It's in my bag right now. I'm never giving it back.
I'm going to start carrying it around and issuing my own citations.
Ruby Leighton, Department of Emotional Chaos, Badge Number Two. I outrank him."
"You stole a grown man's clipboard."
"I stole a Prank War Compliance Officer's badge of office.
There's a difference. This is a coup, Nash.
A hostile takeover. I am now the regulatory authority.
" She waves her spoon at me. "He's going to lose his mind when he finds out.
I'm going to let him suffer for at least three more days before I tell him.
Maybe four. Maybe I'll make him file a formal request for its return. In triplicate."
My mouth pulls. She catches it, and the grin that spreads across her face stays. This time it doesn't stop.
She talks with her hands, soup spoon punctuating every point, her hair falling out of the knot she tied it in, my shirt slipping off one shoulder. Bright. Loud. Aimed at me.
Her father's name sits behind my eyes. The man who raised this woman. The man who taught her she wasn't too much. If what I learned tonight is true, telling her will change the way she sees him forever.
Ruby catches my expression shifting. She reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"Hey," she says. "Stay with me."
I look at her hand over mine. Her fingers laced through my fingers. The freckles on her knuckles.
"I'm right here," I say.