Fate of the Fallen

by Ellery Adams

  Nathan turned to her, and she quickly smiled, hoping her doubts weren’t visible on her face. The last thing Nathan needed was to learn that his fiancée had even slight doubts about his sister’s innocence. He stared into Cooper’s eyes for a few seconds, silent and solemn.

  Cooper’s phone began to ring, and she broke eye contact to grab her cell from her pocket. She looked at the caller ID. Work. She didn’t have time for work. She let the call go to voice mail and returned her gaze to Nathan.

  He eyed her phone. “Who was it?”

  “Emilio from the office.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m an hour late returning from lunch. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

  “If you need to go . . .”

  “No! Nathan, this is so much more important!”

  “Are things busy at the office?”

  Cooper shrugged away his concern. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

  “That wasn’t convincing.”

  “We’re a little short-handed. Angela and Mr. Farmer are on their trip, and Bobby called in sick today. I’ve been jumping in to help Josh with repairs. But they’ll have to get along without me. You need me here.”

  “I want you here, Cooper, sure.” Nathan took her hand. “But I can’t—we can’t—do anything for Christine right now.”

  “I can be here for you.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, but it never blossomed into a smile. He was too troubled for that. “Think about it this way. If you’re not at work, I’ll be worrying the whole time that your boss will get mad at you. I’ll worry that I’ll get you fired. If you go back to work, I’ll miss you, but at least I’ll be able to relax knowing your career isn’t on the line. Frankly, Coop, I’m not sure I have enough energy to worry about Christine’s freedom and your career all in the same day.”

  Cooper put her arms around his neck and hugged him. “When you put it that way, it sounds selfish of me to want to stay with you.”

  “Believe me, I wish you could.”

  Reluctantly, Cooper stood, holding on to Nathan’s hand as long as possible. “I’ll swing by your place after work. Call me if you hear anything, okay?”

  He nodded. “Take care.”

  • • •

  Cooper found it nearly impossible to concentrate on her work. Every time her cell phone rang, she thought it was Nathan, and her heart pounded. When she looked at her caller ID and saw that it was only Emilio, or Ben, or a client, she crashed. She stopped by the office, left again to repair five more office machines, then headed back to Make It Work! to do more paperwork. Stuck on the surreal image of Christine in handcuffs, her mind didn’t want to focus on anything else. Words blurred as her thoughts drifted away from the office and to Nathan. From one moment to the next, she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. It was a miracle she got any real work done at all.

  By the end of the day, she was physically and mentally exhausted. No phone call from Nathan. That meant there was no update—no evidence that would exonerate Christine, no deeper understanding of the situation. Either that or there was an update, and it was so bad that Nathan didn’t want to share it over the phone.

  He did like to share news in person.

  Leaving the office, Cooper couldn’t move quickly, no matter how hard she tried. Her body was exhausted, her mind distracted. Once in her truck, she reached for her car stereo to turn on the Beatles, but changed her mind. She was having a hard enough time focusing as it was; music would only make it more difficult, and she wanted very much to arrive at Nathan’s in one piece. She drove as safely as she could, double-checking her mirrors before merging and keeping a wary eye on her speed. Finally, she turned onto Nathan’s road, to find several cars parked outside of his house. She recognized them instantly.

  The Sunrise Bible Study Group was on the scene.

  Cooper went right into the house without bothering to knock and found the entire group sitting in Nathan’s living room, grim expressions all around.

  “I see you told them,” she said, making a beeline for Nathan, who sat in his black leather recliner. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

  “Not the whole story,” he said. “Just that she was arrested.”

  “He was waiting until you got here,” Savannah said. She sat on the couch between Jake and Bryant.

  “I think most of us already knew about what happened at Sphinx though,” Bryant added. “Jake and Trish passed on the news.”

  “Sorry if you didn’t want everyone knowing.” Jake cast an apologetic glance at Nathan. “Figured we might be able to help if we were all on the same page.”

  “I’m glad you all know,” Nathan replied. He drew in a deep breath. “And I’m glad you all came over. It means a lot.”

  Hands folded tightly in her lap, Trish sat in a wooden chair pulled over from the dining table. “That was terrible to watch today—Christine being taken off by McNamara. Why on earth do the police think she’s connected?”

  “Several reasons,” Nathan answered. “She was alone when she found his body, so she could’ve tampered with the evidence. She has no alibi for the time of death—which the police assume is when his watch was broken on the rocks and stopped.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Mostly it’s because she dated Sinclair and didn’t tell the police about it.”

  This revelation was met with stunned stares, and Cooper could see in their faces the same shock she’d felt when McNamara had told her and Nathan at the station.

  “She says they didn’t actually date,” Cooper quickly added. “According to Christine, they went on a few dates, realized they didn’t click, and that was all that happened.”

  Nathan nodded. “She stuck to that story. I got a chance to talk to her after McNamara finished with her.”

  “What did she say?” Quinton asked, leaning forward in the other recliner.

  “Not much. She just kept insisting she didn’t kill Sinclair, and I . . . I . . .” His voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes. Cooper swallowed back tears of her own. She’d never seen him so down before. Nathan waited a moment, composing himself, and then continued. “I told her I believed her and that I’d do whatever I could to help. I called our parents. They panicked when I told them what was going on.”

  “Does Christine have a good lawyer?” Trish asked. “Phil knows a few.”

  “She has a friend who’s a lawyer. He’s agreed to work with her.” He paused again, visibly troubled. “McNamara said they can hold her for seventy-two hours. That’s three days in jail.” He shook his head slowly in disbelief. “My sister is gonna spend three days in jail.”

  Cooper stayed standing at his side like a statue. “Maybe not, Nathan. Maybe we can do something.”

  “In three days?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Wait a sec,” Jake said, holding up his hands before him. “What happens at the end of it? What happens in three days?”

  “McNamara said it depends,” Nathan replied.

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not the prosecutor decides to press charges.” He allowed the group a moment to absorb this information before continuing. “If there isn’t enough of a case, and the prosecutor decides not to move forward, then Christine will be released. On the other hand . . . if the prosecutor does decide to . . .” He wiped his eyes again. “There’ll be an arraignment. If the judge agrees there’s enough evidence to move forward, then . . .”

  “It won’t get to that,” Trish announced as she stood. “We won’t let it.”

  Savannah rose, too. “Trish is right. Nathan, your sister is innocent, and we need to prove it.”

  One by one, the rest of the group stood in a show of solidarity, looking down at Nathan, who still sat with his elbows resting on his knees. He looked around the group, meeting their gazes in turn.

  “Do you think we can do it?” he asked.

  “Why not?” Jake said. “We’ve done it before.”

  “Then how do we help Christine?”

  C
ooper pulled Nathan to his feet. “Easy. We’ll either prove her innocence or someone else’s guilt.” Her stomach growled. “Before we get started on that, though, maybe we can order some pizza.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, the group resumed their positions in the living room, this time seated around three large pizzas.

  “All right, then,” Bryant said as he picked the black olives off of a slice of veggie pizza. “Jake, Trish, Cooper, you guys went to Sphinx today to see if you could find a killer. Did you?”

  “I’m not sure we found a killer,” Cooper replied. “But we may have found an ally. Kenneth is sure Sinclair was murdered, and he wants to know who did it as badly as we do. He’d probably be happy to lend a hand if we need it.”

  Jake ate a slice in three large bites and then leaned back into the couch, contented, hands folded on his stomach. “I heard something pretty interesting when I was fixing the toilet. Christine had warned everyone I’d be in the ladies’ room, but I don’t think Mandy was listening. She was on the phone with a client at the time. So when she came into the bathroom, I was in there, and she was talking on her phone again. This time it was about the company. About Sphinx.”

  Quinton leaned forward, his sausage fingers propping up a long, drooping piece of cheese pizza. “What did she say?”

  “Said she knew she was a shoo-in to take over Kenneth’s position when Kenneth made the official move up to CEO. Said she had the best sales record of the group, plus experience in programming and customer service, so it was all but certain.”

  “That is interesting,” Bryant said. “Sounds like a motive to me.”

  “But Mandy has an alibi,” Nathan replied. He hadn’t touched his pizza. “She was in the food truck line, waiting for Christine at the time of death. Cooper and I saw her.”

  “All I know about Mandy is that she’s a gossip,” Trish said. “And she has good taste in purses. We have the exact same one. We bonded over it, and I hoped that might lead to some inside information. Mostly, though, she wanted to talk about making sure she got a big office at the new location, wherever that might be.”

  “Okay, Mandy has an alibi,” Bryant said. “But the change in leadership could still be a motive . . . for Kenneth.”

  “That’s true,” Trish said. “He benefits even more than Mandy does.”

  Cooper waffled. “I don’t know. Like I said, he seemed to want to learn the truth about Sinclair’s death as much as we do. I doubt he’d be so eager to dive into an investigation if he were guilty.”

  “Unless he’s trying to frame someone else.” Trish set aside her food and wiped her hands on a napkin. “What if Kenneth killed Sinclair and wants to frame Christine for it. He’d say he wanted to help, because he knows the investigation would lead to her. If he’s ‘helping,’ he could even help steer us in Christine’s direction.”

  “That’s one possibility,” Savannah said. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions, though. We don’t want to start building a case against another innocent person. What else happened at the office?”

  “I found something in Sinclair’s office,” Cooper replied. “A business card for a psychiatrist. I realize it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but Kenneth was concerned when he found out. He insisted Sinclair wasn’t the sort to kill himself, and he told us all about Sinclair’s character. He worked at an animal shelter. He cared about his business. He was generally happy—but very busy. He was really into fitness and had started a fitness challenge at the office. He even bought everybody a . . . a . . . Nathan, what’s it called again?”

  He held up his wrist to show off the black plastic band. “Fitbit. He bought one for Christine. She bought one for me.”

  Savannah smiled. “If Sinclair was as health-conscious as it sounds, he’d be very happy his influence has extended so far. Now then, what about the other people in the office?”

  “Dave and Nala?” Trish asked. “By the time I got there, I could physically feel the tension between their desks.” She shivered. “Almost made my stomach turn. Are they really married?”

  Cooper nodded. “Married and miserable, unfortunately. When I showed up at the office, I almost walked into the middle of an argument between the two of them. Christine said it was because one of them used too much special cardstock.”

  “Was it a bad argument?” Bryant asked.

  “Massive,” Cooper answered. “And loud. They were shouting at each other. According to Mandy, Dave thinks Nala slept with Sinclair.”

  “Sounds like Mandy likes to talk,” Savannah said.

  Jake laughed and slapped his knee. “That’s a nice way to put it, my dear! You ever hear of people talking around the water cooler? Forget the water cooler. It’s all Mandy in that office.”

  Trish nodded in agreement. “How much did you overhear, Jake?”

  “When she wasn’t on the phone with a client, she was talking to somebody about somebody else. After Cooper arrived, she laid off for a bit, while she talked to clients. I think she was waiting for Nala and Dave to cool down before she stuck her nose in.”

  “She was more than happy to tell Christine all about why Dave and Nala were fighting,” Cooper said. “Christine felt horrible about it, too. She felt like she was being as much of an office gossip as Mandy was.”

  Nathan smiled. “Sounds like Christine.”

  “Well, I assured her she wasn’t being a gossip—that she was working for the greater good,” Cooper continued. “At any rate, Mandy’s a good source of information. I don’t know how reliable it is, but it’s a start.”

  The conversation lulled as they all ate. Nathan finally took a few bites, a pensive furrow in his brow the whole time. He set the rest of his slice aside. “All right, we know what we want to do. Either prove Christine’s innocent or prove someone else is guilty. Where do we go from here?”

  “We need to get their alibis,” Trish replied. “Talk to them one-on-one to learn where they were when Sinclair died.”

  “But we should tread lightly with Kenneth,” Cooper warned. “If he is an ally, we don’t want to put him off by making him feel accused.”

  “Good thinking.” Trish thought for a minute and then smiled. “That can be your job! The rest of us will talk to Dave and Nala, and . . . What about Christine?”

  “You mean, how do we prove she didn’t kill Sinclair?” Quinton asked.

  Trish nodded.

  “Nathan, what’s her alibi again?”

  “She was on her way to meet Mandy, and she started watching a performer—a juggler, I think. She lost track of time. That’s why she was late getting to the food trucks.”

  Bryant clapped his hands together. “That’s great!”

  Nathan looked up at him, surprised. “Why is it so great?”

  “Because a whole bunch of people must have seen her! She’s got to have at least thirty witnesses. We just have to track them down.”

  “Not to be a killjoy, but it probably won’t be that easy,” Jake argued. “Just because a lot of people were there doesn’t mean they saw Christine. They were watching the juggler. I doubt they noticed her at all. Do you remember the people around you in line for food?”

  Bryant closed his eyes and tried to remember. Finally, he shook his head.

  “Same goes for the people watching the entertainers.”

  “There has to be some way,” Nathan said. “I’ll talk to Christine more tomorrow. Maybe there’s a detail that slipped her mind.”

  “While you’re at it, ask if she knows where Dave and Nala live,” Savannah said. “That way we can drop in for a chat, and we’ll compare notes after church Sunday . . . assuming they haven’t already released Christine by then.”

  “If we can trust what Mandy says, then Dave and Nala are separated,” Cooper added. “He’s living in an apartment, and they only carpool to keep up appearances. But if you’ll talk to them, I’ll figure out a reason to stop by the Sphinx office to talk to Kenneth again. If we’re trying to avoid making him feel accused, I’ll need a
good reason.”

  “Are you sure you can slip away again?” Nathan asked. “Aren’t things still crazy at your office?”

  Cooper nodded. “It’ll be crazy for a while, but this is too important to put off.” Even as she said it, she thought of Make It Work! and the insanity there. She had no idea how she’d be able to legitimize leaving work again. Mr. Farmer was a kind and forgiving man, but if Cooper botched her big chance by attending to personal business during work hours, she might not have a job anymore. If she was going to talk to Kenneth, she not only needed an excuse he’d accept, but she also needed a reason to legitimately leave Make It Work! What on earth could she say?

  She hid her concerns behind a gentle smile. “Relax, Nathan,” she said. “It’ll be all right.” She went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As the glass filled, she closed her eyes and quietly prayed. “Lord, You know I want to help Christine, but I also don’t want to cause issues with my job. And I don’t want to offend Kenneth by making the trip just to get his alibi. So, please give me a good reason to go back to Sphinx. If I’m supposed to go talk to Kenneth, please give me a sign.”

  9

  The cool evening air found Cooper in the greenhouse behind her parent’s place, watering her mother’s stargazer lilies and enjoying their strong perfume. After the meeting at Nathan’s house, she decided she could either work off some tension or go mad. Her first inclination had been to start building a new birdhouse. . . but that required far more concentration than she could muster today.

  She’d also considered taking Columbus for a walk, but that would have required too little concentration. All she had to do was stand there while he flew and swooped down over the field, giving her thoughts far too much time to spiral out of control into dark and anxious places.

  So the orchids were getting a good shower. It required the use of her hands, movement, and minimal focus. Mostly, though, it left her mind free to think about other things, without being free enough to obsess, because if her thoughts did start to spiral, she ran the risk of overwatering and killing the flowers.