by Avery James
Something happened, she thought. She fumbled with the phone as she tried to return Maggie’s call. I should have gone with her. I was being selfish, and I should have been there for her. If anything happened to the baby…
“Hello?” Maggie said when the call finally connected.
“Are you ok, what happened?”
“Abby, I’m fine,” Maggie replied.
“And the baby?” Abby asked.
“As far as I can tell, the baby’s fine, too.”
“You had me worried,” Abby said. “What were you thinking calling ten times?”
“You haven’t heard the news, have you?”
“I’ve been cooking,” Abby said. “What happened?”
“It’s Harry and Nolan,” Maggie said. “They’ve been arrested.”
Chapter 29
Nolan looked around at the crowded rows of desks that made up the main space of the police station. Compared to most of Georgetown, this cinderblock room with its small windows was downright ugly. Green paint was peeling off one of the walls, and the steel and faux wood desk before him looked like a relic from the sixties. Dim fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, casting a flat, cool light over everything.
On the desk before him, steam rose from a cup of coffee that was somehow both burned and weak. His head was throbbing, and he wondered if he might have a concussion. Even the dim lights of the precinct hurt his eyes.
On the other side of the desk, an unenthused officer in a crisp blue uniform was asking him questions. He was black, probably in his early forties. He had a picture of his family on the far side of the desk, three little kids and a pretty wife. His name was Joe. There was a picture of guys in uniform, and Nolan was guessing that he was ex-military. Nolan felt bad that the guy had to deal with this.
“You ever think of working in the private sector?” Nolan asked. “Something with better hours?”
“I like my job fine,” he said.
“Even the night shift?”
“Let’s stick to the questions,” the officer said. “What caused the incident between yourself and Mr. Howard?”
“It was a simple misunderstanding,” Nolan said. “We’re old friends.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to go with?” Officer Joe asked. “That it was all just a big misunderstanding?” He gave Nolan a look like he wanted to say, man to man, what’s this bullshit about?
“Yeah,” Nolan said.
“And you swear that you’re the one who started the whole thing?” the officer asked. “From the look of it, the other guy was the only one to land a punch.”
Several punches, Nolan wanted to say. Nolan had hit Harry exactly twice, both times he pulled his punches. Harry, on the other hand, had nearly broken Nolan’s nose. Harry’s words were still in Nolan’s head. “This is for Abby, and this one’s for my wife.” Nolan was sure Harry had gotten a kick out of that one.
The fight, if he could even call it that, had only lasted about twenty seconds, before the two of them were swarmed by event security and a few overzealous onlookers. The whole thing had happened by the light of so many flashes that Nolan had been unable to see.
“Like I said,” Nolan repeated, “this is all just a misunderstanding. Can I get my phone call?”
Nolan could tell that the officer’s bullshit detector was blaring at full volume.
“We’ve gotten a dozen calls from the Post alone about you,” he said. “So what the Hell is going on? And don’t tell me it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve seen your type before. You think everything revolves around you.”
“This isn’t about me,” Nolan said. It was a half truth. “Do you ever feel like no one in this town is held accountable?”
“I’m just a beat cop,” Joe said. “I’m doing my part. What the hell are you doing?” At the moment, Nolan wasn’t so sure. “Right now, you’re not looking at anything more than a fine or some community service for acting like a hothead. Here’s how it works: I hand you this sheet of paper. You sign your name where it says you’re not going to run off, and then you hang around the city until you have a hearing early next week. Someone like you, they’ll give you a few hours of community service, and everyone feels better about themselves.”
“What happens if I don’t sign the paper?” Nolan asked.
“You’re going to sign the paper,” Joe replied. “Whatever point it is you’re trying to make, there’s a better way. What is it with you guys thinking you have to make a point? You made a mistake, and now you have to face the consequences.”
Nolan couldn’t help but laugh. The cop was probably right about that one. There were probably a hundred other ways he could have gone about this, but he’d reached the point of no return, and he wasn’t going to give up until he’d seen everything through. He needed to face the consequences of his actions. He just wished he could explain to the cop why he had to stay.
“I get a phone call, right?” Nolan said. There were two parts to his plan. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d pulled off the first half, but he knew what he needed for the second. He wondered if Abby had heard yet. She was probably pissed. He laughed again. She was definitely pissed.
“Is this a joke?”
Nolan shook his head. “No,” he said. There was a nonzero chance that he’d irreparably damaged his relationship with Abby. He wondered if she’d understand why he had to do what he did. She’d figure it out. She was smart like that, but still, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. “But I need to make a phone call.”
“Have it your way,” Joe said as he pushed the phone across the desk. He shook his head and started filling out his paperwork again.
Before the night started, Nolan had committed Abby’s number to memory, but as he dialed, things were a bit hazy. As the phone rang, he hoped to hell that he’d gotten the number right.
“Hello?” the voice said on the other end of the line. Nolan breathed a sigh of relief. It was Abby. It felt so damn good to hear her voice.
“It’s Nolan. I need your help,” he said. He gave her the location of the precinct and explained that he’d been arrested. “Can you come down here?”
“Are you serious?” Abby said. “What in the world makes you think I’m going to come down and bail your ass out of jail? You assaulted my pregnant best friend’s husband, and you expect me to come running?” Judging by the details Abby provided, she already knew about his arrest.
“That’s not exactly what happened,” Nolan said.
“I don’t care exactly what happened,” Abby said. “Just sign the paper saying you’ll be good and go back to your hotel. I’m not playing these games. I don’t care why you did what you did. I just don’t. I thought you were better than this.”
Nolan winced. That last part hurt. He could hear the betrayal in her voice. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to explain that he was doing this for her.
“Abby, just give me a chance to…” he said, but his words were cut off by the dial tone. Shit, he thought. That certainly wasn’t part of the plan.
***
Abby’s mind raced as she made her way across town to the police station. What the hell was he thinking? Punching my best friend’s husband at a charity event in front of dozens of photographers? It was like he wanted to get in trouble. If this was his way of trying to force me to talk to him, he has another thing coming.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been to that particular precinct. In her years as a fixer, she’d found herself bailing clients out of jail far more often than she cared to admit. It wasn’t that the clients couldn’t bail themselves out, it was that they had a clause in their contracts with Haven Communications that Amy called the heads up clause. Its purpose was simple—the first call was always to Haven. The reason for the heads up clause was simple. It kept the client from doing anything stupid and making the situation worse.
And clients were always finding ways to dig themselves a bigger hole. The worst thing they could do was ask the arresting office
r, “Do you know who I am?” That never ended well. Almost as bad was trying to talk their way out of whatever had happened, a strategy that almost always incriminated the client. The rule existed because the clients usually thought they were above the rules. Of course, no one ever was. That was how they ended up arrested in the first place.
When she reached the station, a tall building made from both concrete and brick, Abby couldn’t help but wonder what Nolan had been thinking. There were a dozen photographers camped out on the base of the long, wide front steps that led to the precinct’s second story main entrance. Unless someone else famous had been arrested that night, they were there for Nolan. So now, in addition to dealing with Nolan, she would have to find a way to deal with the press.
She was in crisis mode. She’d been doing it long enough that it was like autopilot. As she walked up the steps, she was planning every detail of minimizing the fallout from Nolan’s fight with Harry. She’d arranged for a car to pick them up. She’d also reached out to a contact at the Post. They’d need to come up with an explanation for why he’d caused a fight at a charity event. So much for a new Nolan. For everything he’d said about being a new man and showing the world, he’d reverted to the old Nolan fast. A bit of adversity and he’d gone off the rails. And now it was her job to clean things up. No. He wasn’t a client, and helping him wasn’t her job. She was there because she loved him and she wanted to help him, even though he’d acted like a complete jerk.
That wasn’t fair. She still didn’t know what had happened, and she was clinging to hope that there was some explanation, any explanation. She texted Maggie. Any word from Harry? She’d never thought that anything would come between her and Maggie, but how did you move past something like this? As she pushed on, she heard someone shout something. It took her a moment to realize they were talking about her. “Why’d you break up with Nolan?”
I didn’t break up with him, I just needed some space, she thought. She realized she’d stopped on the steps as a volley of camera flashes went off. She doubted they’d have much use for a picture of her back. She stood still for a moment. Then she turned around and marched back down the stairs. “Where are you from?” she asked.
“Huh?” the photographer said, as if no one had ever asked him that question before.
“You want a story, tell me where you’re from,” she said. “You’re the one who yelled out, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m with Muckraker.”
Abby snorted. This guy worked for one of Nolan’s other sites, one that specialized in celebrity gossip. “You work for him? Your website is owned by Nolan Ross.”
“I work for a company owned by the guy, yeah,” he said. “So do a lot of people. Look, I just go where I’m told to go.” Other photographers started shouting questions around them.
“And ask what you’re told to ask?” Abby said. She turned back up the stairs. What the hell is one of Nolan’s websites doing spreading an embarrassing story about its owner? Something wasn’t adding up, and there was only one way to know for sure what was going on.
The lobby of the precinct smelled of floor polish and disinfectant. The lights overhead were long tube fluorescents that gave off a greenish light. Abby knew the names of half the cops in D.C. She’d been to this precinct more times than she could count. The cop behind the counter was Lauren. She’d been working the night shift for the past year. Lauren gave Abby a weary look. “Another one of yours?”
“Personal call,” Abby said. “Whether or not he’s mine… we’ll see.”
“You know the drill,” Lauren replied.
Abby did know the drill. She stepped up to the front desk, signed a sheet of paper, and waited for a cop to escort her into the next room. “I was wondering when you’d be back again,” Lauren said.
“Just can’t keep me away,” Abby joked. There were few places in D.C. that were less appealing to her than a police precinct surrounded by reporters. “He hasn’t caused any trouble, has he?”
“Other than annoying Joe,” Lauren said, “he’s been a model citizen.”
“How long have the reporters been outside?” Abby asked.
“They showed up half an hour before your guy did.”
With each new piece of information, Abby was getting closer and closer to an idea of what had happened earlier that night. If Nolan had done what she was starting to suspect he had done, she wouldn’t be happy with him.
“If it isn’t Ms. Abby Hardigan.”
“Joe, will you bring her back to retrieve her Scotsman?” Lauren said.
A smile spread across Joe’s face. “When he said he wanted a phone call instead of signing himself out, I couldn’t understand why. Now I get it.”
“Wait, he could have signed himself out?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “There aren’t even charges. We just brought him in to take a statement. I just need him to sign the damn piece of paper, and he’s free to go. The guy won’t do it though.”
“Will you give me a moment with him?” Abby asked.
“For you, Abby, anything,” Joe said. “Besides, if it gets him out of here, you’re the one doing me a favor. Maybe his circus will follow him away.”
When Abby walked into the bullpen, she expected to see Nolan, mid-story, surrounded by every cop in the room, everyone intently listening as he recounted some story or another. She expected to see him laughing and smiling and taking everything way too lightly. Instead, he was sitting in the chair next to Joe’s desk, staring at a cup of coffee. Even from across the room, Abby could see the shadow of a black eye forming on the left side of his face. He looked worn out.
Then he saw her, and his face lit up. “You came,” he said.
“I did.” She stepped in front of him and crossed her arms. “Would you mind telling me what the hell got into you?”
“I can explain.”
“Why you fought my best friend’s husband? Or why there are reporters from one of your websites outside?”
“Both,” he said. “I need to make things right.” He reached out for her hand, but Abby pulled back and crossed her arms.
“Sounds like a start,” Abby replied. “Why did you send your own reporters here?”
“I made a deal,” he said.
“With who?”
“I never meant to hurt you,” Nolan said. He reached out to place his hand on her arm but stopped just shy. “That article about you should have never been written. I’m just making sure it never gets published.”
Abby froze. “No,” she said. “You didn’t.” In an instant, it all snapped into focus. The fight, the cameras, the theater of it all. It was exactly the kind of thing Nolan had done before. He’d created a diversion. Except this time, the diversion was designed to protect her. He’d traded his dignity for hers.
“How could you even make that decision?” she asked. “I would never ask you to do this. I would never want you to do this.”
“It wasn’t a decision at all. Abby, I love you.” He noticed the way she looked around as he said it. “I don’t care who knows it.” He raised his voice. “I love you, Abby.”
“We know,” someone called from the far end of the room.
“I just wanted a chance to explain everything to you before I went out and talked to the press. It’s almost done. In a few days, everyone will forget about it, and we can move on.”
“You can’t go out there,” Abby said.
“I have to. That’s the deal I struck,” he said.
“There has to be some other way. Come on. I’ve already called a car. We’ll leave together. There’s a back exit. We’ll leave and come up with a strategy for undoing all of this.”
“I don’t want to undo anything,” Nolan said. “I’ve already done the hard part, and now I can make sure that story about you never sees the light of day. This is the best way to do this.”
“You don’t get to make that call,” she said. She balled her hands into fists as she tried to calm herself down. “Now come
on. Sign the paper and let everyone here go about their lives. I’ll have a car waiting at the back entrance in ten minutes.”
“I’m not leaving through the back,” Nolan said. “I have to see this through, Abby.
“If you love me, you’ll stop what you’re doing right now and go. There’s another way to fix things, Nolan. There’s always another way.”
“Abby, I told you. I made a deal.”
“Then undo it,” she said. “I’m not going to be responsible for you dragging your own name through the mud.” She sighed in exasperation. “Even when we’re on the same side of something, we can’t see eye to eye. Why won’t you just listen to me?”
“You know why. I’m an adult, and I can deal with a little media. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. I can handle it.”
“What about me? What about your parents?” Abby asked. “Don’t you think the people who care about you deserve to see you succeed instead of creating a controversy out of nothing? Do you think the people who care about you enjoy seeing you dragged through the mud?”
“My parents would understand that I’m doing it to protect you. Eventually, they’d get over it. They always do. Can’t you see that I’m just trying to make things up to you? What was I supposed to do? I tried to reach you, but you wouldn’t let me. And I had a choice to make: either I was going to sit by and let you get hurt or I could take a risk.”
“A risk?” Abby asked. “I think that was a little more than a risk. A risk is asking someone out. A risk is booking a vacation as a surprise. This was an irresponsible stunt. Nolan, please, if you want to make things right, come with me.”
“Abby,” he said.
“There were a hundred ways you could have stopped this from happening. You could have talked to Erin. You could have talked to the reporter from the Post, but instead you decided to be immature about it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I can’t believe they even went for it,” Abby replied. “The Post runs hard news. They should have every reporter in their newsroom tracking down new angles on Senator Heck and the AG. Instead, they’re wasting their time on this.”