Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(84)

I swallowed my nerves. “If you’re not up for company, I can go.”

“No, I just … I wasn’t expecting you.” He glanced over my shoulder, as if he was waiting for his commander to pop out from around a corner. “You probably shouldn’t be down here.”

“Probably not.” I pulled Sam’s pint of whisky from under my sweatshirt and held it out to him. He took my wrist and pulled me into his room, checking to make sure the hallway was empty before closing the door behind us.

Nick’s room was dimly lit by a small lamp on the desk beside his bed. The confined space smelled like him, like soft, worn leather and the spicy musk of his cologne. The faculty accommodations were nicer than the student dorms, more like a cheap motel room. The warm lamplight, his partially made bed, his shower towel slung carelessly over the open closet door … it all felt intimate, and suddenly I understood his hesitation to let me in.

We did an awkward dance, maneuvering around each other in the tight space as he scooped his jacket and cane off the bed, tossing them onto his open suitcase on the floor to make space for me to sit. I perched on the edge of his mattress, watching him as he peeled two Styrofoam cups from a stack beside the coffeepot on his dresser. He opened the whisky, pouring a generous splash into each cup.

“How’s Joey?” I asked.

Nick’s eyes pinched at the corners as he passed me a drink. “He’s fine. Just a concussion and some stitches. The hospital’s keeping him under observation tonight. They’ll probably discharge him tomorrow.” He downed most of his drink in one deep swallow, his jaw clenched against a wince as it went down. He pulled out his desk chair and turned it to face me, favoring his leg as he eased down into it. He stared into his cup, his elbows resting on his knees.

“I thought you were coming to take our statements,” I said between sips.

“I thought I was, too. But then the hospital called and said Joey was asking for me, so I went to see him.” His eyes lifted to mine. “He wanted to give me his statement.”

I swallowed a gulp that left my voice hoarse. “Joey hit his head pretty hard. Did he remember much?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you remember first?”

“Are you asking for my statement?”

“I’m asking for the truth.”

A week ago, I’d told Vero she should face her fears and speak her truth. That anyone who assumed the worst about her wasn’t good enough for her in the first place. But now, as I sat on the edge of Nick’s bed, looking into his eyes, I understood why she would circumnavigate an entire state just so she wouldn’t have to.

And yet, what kind of future could I hope to have with Nick if I couldn’t do it?

“Ask me anything,” I said cautiously.

“Why did you suspect Joey of trying to kill Steven?”

I licked my lips, willing the liquor to make it easier to speak. “Do you remember the night you were shot, when I left the Westovers’ house, right before they put you in the ambulance?” Nick’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “I went to find Steven. His business partner told me Steven’s vehicle had broken down on his way to the Westovers’ house. I knew the killer was still out there looking for him, and I wanted to get to him before anything happened. I found him stranded on the side of the road a few miles away. As he was getting in my car, someone pulled over and started shooting at us.” Nick tensed, his frown deepening as he straightened in his chair. “We managed to escape without seeing who it was. All I knew was that the shooter was driving a sedan, they were reasonably skilled with a gun, and that Joey wasn’t with you at the Westovers’ that night because he was supposed to be out looking for my ex-husband.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you came to see me at the hospital?”

“Because Joey was your partner. And because I couldn’t be sure it was him. I had no proof.”

Nick was quiet as he took it all in. “Did you know he’s with Internal Affairs?”

“Not until tonight. Feliks said he thought Joey got himself assigned here as part of some revenge scheme. That Joey was trying to blackmail him. Was he?” I asked, watching Nick for a reaction.

His hand rasped over his stubble. “I asked Joey the same thing. He denied it. He swears it wasn’t him.”

“Do you believe him?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I believe, Finn. I thought the guy was my partner, but he’s been keeping secrets from me for months. How do you trust someone after that?”

I looked down into my cup, wishing I knew the answer. “What else did Joey say?”

“He said you saved his life tonight, and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be dead.”

A thick silence blanketed the room. It was the truth, and yet it only skimmed the surface. There was so much more buried in the murk underneath. “Joey wouldn’t have been in danger if I hadn’t suspected him in the first place.”

“That wasn’t your fault and Joey knows it. He told me about the bug in Vero’s phone. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Nick downed the last of his drink. He set down his cup, his eyebrows knitting together as if he was searching for the right words to say. “Joey said you’re not here doing research for a book. That you only came this week to find the person who tried to kill Steven.”