“Okay, so yeah, you arrested Sasha Vogelby. But she as much as confessed!” Jane said, yanking open her front door before Jake’s key had a chance to turn in the lock. Before he took a whole step into her apartment, she continued the conversation where they’d left off half an hour earlier, as if they’d never stopped talking. “She did confess. Isn’t that what you said? How can they nail you for that?”
She kissed him, hard, then handed him a beer. Friday night—he didn’t have to go to work tomorrow. And that was the problem they now faced. He’d broken the news to her on the phone, but she’d demanded he come talk about it in person. Instantly, if not sooner.
The August night was softly dark, and she opened her windows to catch the end-of-season breeze. No matter what the calendar said, the night had a touch of September. Anyone who understood Boston would feel the change.
She followed Jake into the living room, knowing she should give him a chance to answer, but this whole thing was incomprehensible. “Not that you need any more ammo, but Vogelby turned on Tarrant to save herself, right? So you nailed this, sweetheart.”
She planted her fists on her hips, too infuriated to sit down. “They should be giving you a promotion, instead of—”
“I’m just gonna collapse for a minute, okay?” Jake said. “Then I’ll tell you the whole ridiculous thing.”
Jane couldn’t believe it. And Jake looked so sad. But there was something else she didn’t understand. “Can I ask you, before we talk about the other thing? Even though Vogelby was jealous of Avery Morgan, wasn’t she required to—didn’t she have to—save Avery from drowning? She was right there!”
“Nope.” Jake took a sip of beer, put the bottle on the coffee table. “Not legally. Morally, that’s her own problem. But all Willow Galt saw was Avery falling into the water. And then Vogelby walking away.”
“Yow.” Jane plopped onto the couch, scooting Coda’s furry body aside. “That’s so chillingly tragic. Like Tarrant wasn’t required by law to report the rapes—since he didn’t see them.”
“Kind of, yeah,” Jake said. Coda resettled into Jake’s lap, swirling her tail. Jake wasn’t much of a cat person, and Coda reminded him of that as often as she could. “They’re quite the duo. Vogelby admitted she was jealous of Avery. Over her closeness with Tarrant, over the attention she got, over Avery’s job and position. She admitted she watched Avery trip on one of Popcorn’s toys, a yellow ball. She said Avery fell into the pool and got the wind knocked out of her. Told us she thought Avery was just ‘pretending’ to struggle. Being ‘dramatic.’ Said she didn’t believe Avery would actually drown.”
Jane pictured it, remembering the party video, the happily smiling Avery Morgan. Could her death have been an accident? “Did you believe that?”
“Well, it’s possible. I guess. But pretty early on, you’d have to comprehend your friend was not playacting, wouldn’t you? When I confronted her with that—and with the likelihood that she realized Avery would drown and be out of her life if she simply walked away—Vogelby panicked. Figured she was in deep trouble. To save herself, she offered to trade information about Tarrant’s cover-ups and extortion. It was her idea to call us pretending to rat out Trey Welliver—but she insists Tarrant was complicit.”
“Jake? About Tarrant. Being complicit.” Jane thought about that video again. And what Isabel had told her. “I know when Trey Welliver must have drugged Isabel. At a party in May, by Avery’s pool. And Tarrant was there! Isabel saw him. Hey. She even showed us a—” She skidded to a halt. Could she tell Jake about the video?
“A video. Yeah.” Jake toasted her with his beer. “You’re not the only one with sources, hon. But your Isabel corroborates Tarrant was there? Nice. Very, very nice.” He took a sip. “Very helpful. The DA can use that juicy tidbit for leverage while Tarrant and Vogelby and their lawyers battle to see who can rat out the other first.”
“So much for true love,” Jane said. “And their reputations.”
“Yeah. Whatever happens in court, or not, Tarrant and Vogelby are about to get hit with a firestorm of public scorn, not to mention job-ending wrath from their bosses.”
“Speaking of job-ending. And wrath.” Jane could not believe what had happened. Jake was a good guy, an unassailably good guy. But he was the one being punished? “I’m so—excuse me—pissed! How could Superintendent Kearney do that to you?”
“I know.” Jake’s voice was weary as he leaned forward, peeled off his leather jacket and tossed it on the wing chair. Coda, spooked, shot him a disapproving look. “But insubordination, you know? Disobeying direct orders?”
He sat, chin in hands, looking as close to depressed as Jane had ever seen him.
“But I get it.” Jake looked at the floor as he talked. “Kearney had no choice. I’m guilty. I screwed up. He ordered me not to go into Grady’s room, but I did it anyway. Now T’shombe Pereira’s gonna get promoted. Good for him. Shitty for me. But the world is not always fair.”
“You of all people.” Jane, infuriated, wondered if there was anything she could do. But there wasn’t. “And it all worked perfectly! Can you—”
Jane’s phone buzzed, vibrating against the glass coffee table. Caller ID said “Isabel.” She pushed the “accept” button. “Isabel?”
“I’m in the hospital,” Isabel said.
“What?” Jane stood, her heart twisting. “Why? What happened?”
“Oh, no.” Isabel’s laugh came as a surprise. “I’m at the hospital. At BCH. With, you know. Grady. Visiting.”
“You’re at the hospital visiting Grady?” Jane said the whole thing out loud for Jake’s benefit.
“What?” Jake said.
Jane put up a forefinger. Hang on.
“We talked about … everything,” she said. “And he says Detective Brogan should find out who paid for the pizza and beer.”
“Who paid for the pizza and beer?” Jane was confused.
“What?” Jake said. He came closer to Jane, leaned in. She tilted the phone so he could hear, too.
“Yeah,” Isabel went on. “What he delivered that night at Avery’s. He says it’s on a credit card. Tarrant’s.”
Jake raised a fist. “Got you,” he whispered.
“I’ll tell him,” Jane said. Grady and Isabel had clearly put two and two together. Her and Jake. “Are you okay? And Grady?”
“He told me he’s leaving town,” Isabel said. “I’m glad I got to say goodbye.” She paused, cleared her throat. “He’s almost well. And he’s starting over, he says. I guess that’s what I’ll do, too.”
“Do not do anything without telling me, Isabel,” Jane said. “You’re a rock star. A performer. Do not run away. I’m serious. You’re graduating, right?”
“I won’t. I will. Graduate, I mean. And if there’s a trial, I’ll testify against Trey. I gave the district attorney my calendar and file, though, and the SAFEs are giving him the creep list, so she says maybe that’ll convince him to plead guilty. And then, well, I’ll be fine,” Isabel said. “And, Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. You’re a rock star, too.”
Jake gestured her back to the couch as she hung up. “I heard that, and you’re both right. Both rock stars. Now, thanks to Grady’s final performance as CI, we’ll nail Tarrant for buying alcohol for underage kids. By the way, Grady’s going into witness protection. Though I didn’t tell you that.”
“Think Isabel’s going with him?” Jane leaned against her end of the couch. “I kind of hope not. She’s got a great career ahead of her.”
“If she does?” Jake said. “We’ll never know.”
They sat as they always did, facing each other with legs parallel, her toes kneading his thigh. She took a sip of her Cabernet, gauging the infinite sorrow in her dear Jake’s face. Suspended from the force. With pay, but suspended. Because he’d made a decision to save Grady. He’d succeeded. And then gotten punished for it.
“Wouldn’t that be a relief?” Jane asked. “To hide away, like Grady? Go someplace no one can find you? Now that Fiola and I have the Tarrant stuff, and Isabel, and the SAFE women, we’ll be finished with the documentary in two weeks or so.…” She saw him smile, thank goodness. “I know, it’s impossible.”
But what was possible? Jane twisted her hair away from her face, tried to decide what to say. “Thing is…”
“What?” Jake said.
“I’m not sure the deal with Channel 2 is gonna work.” Jane took a last sip. No more secrets. “Marsh was … critical. Of how I ‘handled’ telling you about baby-face Rourke Devane, and how I knew who he was. He thought I’d crossed the line. I hadn’t, not at all! But even though I was telling the truth, the total truth, he never fully believed me.”
Jane set her empty wineglass on the coffee table, then shifted position, putting her head on Jake’s shoulder, both of them stretched out on the couch, toes sandwiched together. Coda, suddenly made of rubber, adjusted position, putting half of her body on each of them. Jane felt Coda’s purr, and Jake’s rising and falling chest beneath her.
What if he weren’t a cop and she weren’t a reporter? What would they do, where would they go? So many things tied them to their worlds. Family. Work—including Fiola, who, barriers lowering, finally shared her own college trauma, a vodka-fueled frat-party assault she’d never reported. Friends—DeLuca, who she prayed would recover. Mortgages. Insurance. Pets.
Coda looked up, blinked at her, as if she knew Jane was contemplating change.
“You think we could pull it off?” Jake murmured into her hair. “I know how the police department works, know every place they’d check. And you’re the queen of disguise, as you so often tell me.”
A new life. Someplace completely different. Was that a fantasy, colored by wine and stress and the reality of the sometimes-unfair world they battled over every day? Or could they actually go?
“I have something for you,” Jake said. He shifted on the couch, pulled something from his pocket. Held it up.
A scrap of paper. A heart, and the letter J. The note she’d left on his cruiser.
“I’ve kept this in my pocket, almost gave it to you in that hospital closet,” he said. “What if we’d lost each other?”
Jane’s fingers intertwined with Jake’s. Gramma Brogan’s diamond twinkled in the dimming light.
“Shhh,” she said. In one move, she twisted over, their faces now barely inches apart. “Let’s talk about it later.”