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Kennedy was glad Nick was there. Nick was the one Noah was looking at with those terrified, pleading eyes.
“I need help.”
She could tell Noah was trying to keep his voice calm, but it wasn’t working. A few hours earlier, Kennedy had been impressed with the way Nick could plant himself in the middle of stress, tragedy, and chaos and stay so quiet and serene. Now, she’d wish he’d hurry up and say something.
Anything.
What was he waiting for? Either he needed to call the cops and let them know he’d found Noah, or he needed to barrage Noah with questions so they could figure out exactly what had happened to his father.
Instead, he stood there, assessing the scene with his head cocked to one side, frowning sympathetically while Noah sat curled up in a little ball.
“We better find some place more private to talk.”
That was it. All Nick could offer. Kennedy wanted to scream and pull out her hair. Or pull out Nick’s hair, maybe. One dread at a time. We better find some place more private to talk? That was the best he could do? Even after he spoke the words, Nick stood there with his arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. As if Noah’s father hadn’t been murdered. As if his mother hadn’t confessed to the crime. As if Noah weren’t the prime suspect in several other cases of arson and assault committed throughout the night.
Nick frowned. Had he forgotten how to speak? Had his sad trip down memory lane during the drive here slowed down his brain functioning? Had he forgotten how serious of a situation they were in?
How deadly?
“It’s not too chilly out,” Nick finally said, as if Noah had simply stopped by one afternoon to pay a social call. “Let’s all go up to the balcony. We can talk there.”
Another silent elevator ride, five more floors up. Nick spun his lanyard keychain around his finger one way and then the other. Kennedy felt dizzy. She didn’t bother calculating what meal it would be time for if she were still in Yanji. All she knew was that she was hungry for something. But she wasn’t about to miss getting answers from Noah in order to chase down a vending machine or scour Nick’s apartment for something at least partially edible.
Once the three of them were seated around a big patio table on the roof, Nick clasped his hands behind his head and stretched his legs onto the chair across from him. “So, what can you tell me about tonight?”
Kennedy tried not to lean in. Tried not to show how eager she was to hear what Noah would have to say. Tried to act as inconspicuous as possible so the other two wouldn’t realize how unfitting it was for her to be there right now.
“I made a huge mistake,” Noah began, and Kennedy clenched her jaw shut. Had Drisklay been right, then? Was Noah really the one who had killed his father? Was she about to hear the entire confession?
“That’s the amazing thing about grace,” Nick answered. “There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any less. Nothing we can do to make him take away the forgiveness Jesus bought with his own blood.”
Kennedy bit her lip so she wouldn’t start screaming. Didn’t he realize he was talking to a murder suspect?
Noah’s fingers fidgeted with the tops of his pants legs. “I’m not talking about cheating on a test or sneaking out and going partying. I’m talking about the really bad stuff. The stuff that gets you sent to jail.”
See? Kennedy wanted to yell. He doesn’t need church platitudes. What he needed was a good lawyer.
Nick looked just as relaxed as if he were watching half a dozen youth group kids playing X-box and trashing his living room. “First of all, God doesn’t dump sins into categories. There’s no such thing as a big sin and a tiny sin. All sin is equally horrendous in his sight. Whether you tell a little white lie or set off a bomb that kills a hundred people, neither one of those is too small for God to overlook or too horrendous for him to forgive. Second of all ...” He reached above his head and let out a noisy yawn. “Sorry. I guess we’re all pretty tired here. Second of all,” he repeated, “I’m really touched that you came to me. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough that you ...”
“I got in a fight.” Noah looked like a caged lion about to attack the bars that confined him.
Nick shut his mouth. A confused, questioning look darkened his face. The same kind of confusion that was sloshing around in Kennedy’s gut.
“You got in a fight?” Nick repeated. “Like a yelling fight or a fistfight?”
“A fistfight. A pretty bad one. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Noah glanced over both shoulders as if he expected a helicopter to shine its blinding searchlights on him at any moment. “I think they’re after me. I just can’t bring myself to go home and tell my parents what happened. They’d be so ...”
Noah stopped. He stared at Nick.
“What?” The lilt in his voice matched the sinking feeling in Kennedy’s stomach. “What?” Noah repeated. “What’s going on?” He looked to Kennedy.
Nick sighed. “Listen, brother. I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to promise to give me a truthful answer. No matter what. Got that?”
Noah swallowed. Fear and uncertainty were etched into his features. He gave a small nod.
Nick leaned forward in his chair. “I need to know exactly where you’ve been all night.”