Keep Her Safe(73)

It does feel comforting to be here. Even my cramped cubicle doesn’t look so mundane. Someone has tidied it and set a Twix candy bar by my keyboard. Cory, my manager, likely. She knows I love them.

If only I could sit down in my chair and go back to the way things were.

“I’m actually not here to work.”

Maxwell is subdued as he shakes my hand, the guarded look on his face telling me he remembers why I’ve been gone in the first place. “You just missed Silas. He left for court five minutes ago.” His gaze settles on Gracie, forcing me to make quick introductions.

“Actually, Maxwell, I’m here to talk to you, too.”

“Me?” He looks genuinely surprised.

I swallow against my growing anxiety. How exactly is the right way to bring this up? “Yes, sir. It’s about a—”

“Forget something?” Rolans’s voice booms, cutting me off. I turn to find Silas making his way toward us, his limp more noticeable than usual, his face looking gaunt.

“A file.” Silas’s gray eyes—lined with deep, dark bags—are locked on me. “Noah . . . you’re back.”

“Yes, sir. I got home late last night.”

His gaze shifts behind me and my stomach instantly tightens. “Silas, this is Gracie. I mean, Grace.”

“I had a feeling it was . . .” He holds out a weathered hand. “Goodness, you have grown a lot since I saw you last.”

“It’s definitely been a while,” Gracie says warily, and I know she’s picking through her memories, trying to place him as she accepts the greeting.

“I hope my nephew is showing you around town?”

“If the DA’s office counts as sightseeing?”

“Knowing him, it probably does.” Silas chuckles. To anyone else, it sounds normal. But I can hear the strain. “Noah, can I see you in my office for a moment?”

“But, I thought you had court—”

“Maxwell, would you show Grace to the staff lounge? I’m sure she’d love a coffee or a cold drink.”

Shit. The last thing I want to do is leave Gracie alone with Maxwell, given her tendency to be, well, her. “I’ll be there in a minute.” I shoot her a warning look—one that I hope says to keep quiet until I get there.

She spears me with one of her own—I’m not sure what it means—before she lets Maxwell lead her away.

“So?” Silas leads me into his office and shuts the door. “Good trip to Tucson?”

“For what it was.”

“How’s Dina? Did you get her settled?”

“Yes, sir. In a good place.”

“I’m glad,” he says through a sip of his coffee as he rounds his desk. “And you’ve made a new friend?”

“It’s not like that.”

“I hope it’s exactly like that, Noah. Why else did you bring Abe’s daughter back to Austin with you?” Silas doesn’t have to yell to let me know he’s disappointed in me for not listening to him, and even though I have good reason, I hate disappointing him.

Where do I even start? “Dina knows things, Silas. About Abe and what really happened.”

“Dina is a drug addict.”

“She is, but—”

“You can’t trust what she thinks she remembers from fourteen years ago. Her brains have been scrambled.”

“No, Silas. I mean, yes, maybe. But if you heard what happened to her, you’d know there’s a lot more going on here.”

“For God’s sake!” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I went down this road fourteen years ago and let me tell you, it leads to nothing but pain and suffering. It killed Carmel Wilkes! Day by day, ate her up until her body said enough! And Dina Wilkes?” He waves a hand as if nothing more needs to be said. “Hell, even your mother was never the same again. Look . . . I know you want to believe this, Noah, but you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t do this to that poor girl out there. She has been through enough!”

“But what if there’s evidence—”

“I saw all the evidence myself! I lost days of sleep, scouring over every piece, looking for anything that could point to another explanation. Abraham Wilkes was guilty, guilty, guilty!” He punctuates each “guilty” with a finger-jab to his desk.

“Or you only know what they wanted you to know!” I match his raised voice as I parrot my mother’s words. “Silas, Mom called the feds the night she killed herself. She told them that it was all a lie and that Dwayne Mantis killed Abe!”

“How . . . how do you know that?” Unease fills Silas’s face.

“Because the damn feds were in Tucson, looking to talk to Dina, and they found me. I heard the voice message. It was her, Silas.”

“She was drunk and suicidal. She didn’t—”

“Abe had a video that someone didn’t want getting out.”

He pauses, and I swear, his face pales two shades. “A video?”

“Yes. Of a police bust.”

He checks his watch. “Okay, start talking, and fast.”



* * *



Silas eyes the decanter of scotch he keeps in the corner of his bookshelf. For a minute, he looks ready to pour himself a glass. “I always figured Dina up and ran in the night like that because she knew Abe was guilty.”