CHAPTER 4 #2
“The Norsemen employ three former detectives, sponsor department programs, and provide security for city events. Graham would know before the report was filed.”
“Then federal authorities.”
“With what? Stolen medical records and recordings obtained without consent?”
“You have player testimony.”
“I had Derek.”
The word had slipped into the past tense.
I heard it.
So did Lars.
“Had?” I asked.
His eyes darkened.
“I do not know if he is alive.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too large.
Too quiet.
I looked toward the windows, at Boston glowing beyond the glass.
Somewhere in the city, reporters were still camped outside my apartment.
Somewhere else, Graham West was preparing to bury us both.
“You said the person who leaked our marriage wanted to discredit me,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Because they knew Derek planned to talk.”
“Yes.”
“Then why send me the files?”
Lars looked at the laptop.
“That is what I cannot understand.”
“Maybe Derek sent them.”
“He would have contacted me.”
“Maybe he no longer trusted you.”
The sentence changed his expression.
I saw the possibility take root.
Painful because it made sense.
Derek knew Lars had signed the statement.
Knew he had publicly defended the doctors.
Maybe he saw Lars as one more powerful man who had promised to help and then protected himself.
“I need to speak with Matteo,” I said.
“No.”
“He was close to Derek.”
“He is also under contract with Graham.”
“So are you.”
“Not for much longer.”
“That does not make you trustworthy.”
His gaze snapped to mine.
“I brought you here.”
“After keeping it from me for two years.”
“I am showing you everything.”
“Because the story is already moving without you.”
His hands curled against the counter.
“You think this is a story.”
“It is a story.”
“It is men’s lives.”
“That is what makes it a story worth telling.”
He crossed the distance between us.
“No publication until we find Derek.”
“You do not dictate when I publish.”
“If these files become public now, Graham will destroy every remaining piece of evidence.”
“Then we secure it first.”
“He will move Derek.”
The words stopped me.
“You think Graham has him?”
“I think Graham knows where he is.”
“Based on what?”
Lars hesitated.
I saw it immediately.
“There’s more.”
“No.”
“You said you were showing me everything.”
“I showed you what you needed.”
A humorless laugh escaped me.
“And there it is.”
“Aaliyah.”
“No. You do not get to decide which truths I can survive.”
“This is not about surviving.”
“It is always about that with you.”
I stepped around him.
He caught my wrist.
I turned sharply.
“Let go.”
He did.
But he blocked the doorway.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Lars.”
“You will call Matteo. You will go looking for Derek. You will put yourself in front of Graham because you believe being right makes you safe.”
“And you will lock me in this apartment because you believe loving me makes you my owner.”
His face changed.
“I have never owned you.”
“You have tried to manage me since the day you got drafted.”
“I tried to protect our marriage.”
“You turned it into something that could only exist in rooms with closed curtains.”
“That is not fair.”
“Neither was watching you attend red carpets with women chosen by your team while I sat at home pretending I did not care.”
“They meant nothing.”
“I meant so much you erased me.”
His nostrils flared.
“I came home to you.”
“When it was convenient.”
“Every night I could.”
“In secret.”
“For you.”
The words hit the wound Naomi had named.
We know how your kind likes to keep us hidden.
I stared at him.
“For me?”
“To protect your credibility.”
“Do not rewrite it now.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
“No. You are giving me the version that lets you remain noble.”
He moved closer.
“I never felt noble.”
“Good.”
His eyes flashed.
“You want to punish me.”
“I want you to stop acting as though your suffering is evidence of your innocence.”
He went very still.
I knew I had gone too far.
I did not take it back.
The phone on the island rang.
An unfamiliar number.
We both looked at it.
Lars reached first.
I caught his arm.
“It’s my phone.”
“It could be them.”
“Exactly.”
I answered and placed the call on speaker.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Weak.
Uneven.
“Aaliyah?”
The voice was slurred.
Male.
I glanced at Lars.
His face changed.
“Derek?” he said.
A choked sound came through the speaker.
“Lars?”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t—”
The line crackled.
In the background, something metallic clanged.
“Derek, listen to me,” Lars said. “Tell me what you see.”
“I found it.”
“Found what?”
“The server.”
Lars’s hand flattened against the counter.
“Where?”
“They changed the reports. All of them. Originals are still there.”
“Where are you?”
Derek coughed.
The sound was wet.
A chill moved down my spine.
“They know about her,” he whispered.
Lars looked at me.
“Who knows?”
“West.”
The call distorted.
“Derek,” I said. “This is Aaliyah. Can you tell us where you are?”
A long pause.
Then, “Don’t trust the team.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Lars redialed.
It rang once and disconnected.
Again.
Nothing.
He grabbed his coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To find him.”
“Based on what? We don’t know where he is.”