The Last Invitation (65)
Jessa hated that he saw through her and tried to hide her shifting thoughts. She wasn’t someone who got bogged down in the “rightness” of a decision. If it worked for her, that was enough. But going full vigilante came with risks. She knew if someone in the group had to be sacrificed, it would be her, and signing up for that level of responsibility had her backpedaling.
“It’s not that I think I can’t or that I’m unworthy, but I’ve never been good at blind trust. I like to know what’s expected before I jump in, think through the options, before . . .” She almost said committing, but she had committed, so she just let the sentence hang there.
“In other words, you only said yes so that Retta and others could rush in and save you. That’s disappointing.”
His frown. That tone. She’d grown up getting inundated with the you failed us vibe, trying and failing to make everyone happy, and she didn’t handle it any better as an adult. The space above her left temple started to pound. A migraine would knock her flat before the night ended.
She tried to talk over the banging in her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Your reputation is intact. You’re a partner in your firm, or will be as soon as the paperwork is done.” He sat up, all signs of an informal discussion gone. “Did you think those were gifts?”
A ringing joined the banging. She struggled to keep her words clear and slow despite the chaos erupting inside her. “I fully intend to honor my pledge to Retta. I believe in the cause.”
“What cause?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he made a humming sound. “That hesitation is a problem.”
She reached out and touched his arm. “I can do this.”
He stared at her fingers until she moved them. “I’m not the one you need to convince.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Gabby
Showdown. That’s the only way Gabby could describe the scene when Retta came over to greet her. They shared an unemotional hug, and both smiled, though Gabby thought vomiting would be more appropriate.
Retta stood back but kept her hands on Gabby’s upper arms. “It’s good to see you, Gabby.”
“Judge Swain.”
“The formality isn’t necessary.” She gave Gabby’s arms a final squeeze then dropped her hands. “I haven’t been your professor for more than a decade. You can call me Retta.”
The law-school version of Gabby would have killed for that honor. Gabby knew better today. No matter what it might look like to the crowd, this was not a friendly chat. She expected it to take a turn, and fast. “I buried the awkward-and-unsure-student part of me long ago, but my gut reaction is to balk at the idea of being that casual with you.”
“I remember a very different student. One who was always learning and questioning. You didn’t pretend to know everything, which allowed you to be open to discovering new ways of analyzing and assessing.” Retta clasped her hands together in front of her. “Do you still question everything, Gabby?”
Gabby fought not to babble. She needed to keep her answers short and distinct, not show any sign of weakness. “When the pieces don’t fit together, yes.”
“That can lead to trouble.”
There it was. The start of a subtext battle Gabby would never be able to win. She aimed for keeping up. “I rarely think of the discovery of the truth as dangerous.”
“Snooping around, making up theories that you can’t possibly support with evidence. Those behaviors invite a kind of scrutiny that can turn your life upside down.”
Not the most subtle threat. But if Retta came out fighting like that, she might have something to hide.
Gabby pushed a little. “For example, I don’t buy into the idea that Baines killed himself. The theory doesn’t fit with who he was or how he was in his final days.”
Retta stopped talking long enough to say hello to a couple and nicely shoo them away. “If, hypothetically, you disagreed with the police and the medical professionals and the official cause of death, you would be alone. Vulnerable.”
Vulnerable. Gabby hated that word as much as she hated the sensation and lack of control. “Truth is the most important thing, don’t you agree?”
“Closure.”
“What?”
Retta kept nodding to people who walked by, saying hello. “People need closure. Sometimes that means bending the truth.”
“That sounds like situational ethics.”
The whole conversation was surreal. They talked about menacing, awful things with happy smiles and warm waves.
Retta frowned. “When did we start talking about ethics?”
Yeah, that was the problem. For some reason, the judge didn’t appear to recognize the subject. “Right and wrong. When you should cross the line or not.”
“I fear I failed in teaching you, because there isn’t a line. There’s a vast gray space. What you’ll tolerate and what proactive measures you take determine where you land in that space.”
“I don’t know, Retta.” Gabby emphasized the other woman’s first name, making it clear for this discussion, at least, she was not a student being taught about some new theory. “That sounds pretty convenient. Like an excuse for not following the rules.”