A Capital Mistake

by Kennedy Cross

  “What else do you know about my brother?”

  “Not a lot. I told you I’m not pretending to. But I want to. I want to help you and I want to know you, Noah. The real you.”

  “No you don’t,” I say. The muscles clench in my jaw. A stiff tension spreads through every joint in my body. “You have no idea who I am.”

  Sophia doesn’t reply. At first she only stares back at me.

  Her chest inflates with a breath. “Okay, you’re right.” She throws up her hands. “Maybe I was only falling in love with a fraction of the real Noah Mason. But I do know that fraction. I know that fraction has made me feel something that I’ve never felt before. And you know what else? I know that if that fraction goes to prison, he’s not only leaving me, he’s leaving the last piece of his family. And that piece is named Grayson. Are you willing to leave Grayson, Noah?”

  My shoulders pinch in a knot behind my neck.

  “You know about Grayson?” I whisper.

  Sophia nods. “And I know about your brother’s death. I know about Savannah Platt, and I know she was left with their unborn child. And while you were ignoring my calls, I looked up his name. It’s beautiful.”

  Now I’m the one nodding. It’s all I can do.

  “I’m a detective, Noah,” she continues. “I’m a homicide detective. And I may not know everything about this, but I’ve already seen enough to tell me that something is going on. Something serious. It’s not just about the law, is it?”

  My nod turns into a slow shake.

  My anger’s gone. Everything’s gone.

  I want Sophia in my arms. She’ll stay safe if I never let go, if I never let her out of my sight.

  But that’s not the truth.

  I can’t keep her safe. Not even now when she’s three feet in front of me. And there’s nothing I can say to make her accept that.

  “You’re right,” I say. “Since my brother’s death, there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought about that kid. Then you came. And for the first time, it felt like my life was coming together. I envisioned a better future for all three of us, you, me, and Grayson. And I tried.”

  She stares at me with sorrowful creases in her forehead.

  “I love you, Sophia. I swear I do,” I say. “And wherever you go, just don’t forget that I really did try.”

  She’s shaking her head again. “Please don’t do this.”

  “You’re in danger, Soph. You have been from the beginning. But it’s worse now. You’re in danger every second that you’re with me and I can’t do that to you anymore.”

  A look of fear slowly sets into her face. It starts on her lips, then slips into her eyes.

  She steps back until her back is against the island. “I’ve been in danger… from the beginning?”

  I nod. For the first time she’s considering me as the danger that I am. And it fucking hurts.

  “But you said… at the bar… you said…” she falters, and her sentence dies altogether. She closes her eyes. “I trusted you.”

  “I’ve let down everyone who’s ever trusted me. That’s the truth. Whether they were good or bad, I let them down,” I say. “Including you.”

  Sophia turns her back to me. She drifts onto a stool and sits with her face pressed in her palms.

  It’s the moment I always knew was coming.

  The silence stretches on and I’m tempted to try once more to urge her out, but I can’t make myself do it. If this is what she needs, then so be it. And if Cliff is watching, if he really is listening, then he’ll know that I did what was required for him and I both.

  Suddenly, Sophia perks up. She lifts her head out of her palms. Her cheeks are pale, but they’re dry. Not a single tear.

  Her eyes find mine with a new intensity.

  “We can figure this out,” she says. I feel a twitch in my chin, words on my tongue, but Sophia continues before I can speak. “I’m not trading this, Noah. And I’m certainly not giving it up. Even if I was in danger, you’re the first real happiness I’ve ever felt. I’m willing to risk all of this because I doubt that I’ll ever find it again. At least give me a chance to help us, both of us!”

  “I can’t do that, Soph.” The words are like a fresh stab wound. “You still don’t know the full truth. You have no idea who I am and what I’ve done.”

  There’s no fear on her face anymore. Just a blank stare.

  She’s wasting time now.

  At any moment a sniper could take her head off. Cliff wouldn’t even hesitate. And he’d find a way to pin it on me. No question.

  Sophia scoots her stool back and stands up. She rounds the island, stopping a foot in front of me with a look of defiance. “Then tell me,” she whispers.

  That’s it.

  I drop down like a linebacker, scoop her legs out with one arm, and catch her back and butt with the other. Sophia yelps in surprise.

  I wrap one arm under her legs, one under her lower back, and lock my hands together in front. She’s flailing and squirming, but I hold her tight to my stomach as I stride toward the door.

  She mumbles in protest, but I ignore every word.

  Sophia fidgets and twists until suddenly her arm yanks out of my grip. Her elbow folds over my arms, she balls her hand in a fist, and swings down.

  It hits me right in the nuts.

  In one motion I let her go and drop my hands to my knees. My stomach churns as I fight back vomit.

  Sophia lands on her feet without even stumbling.

  “I’m not leaving!” She pulls her shirt down. “If I leave then you go to prison and that’s not happening.”

  I tilt my head up with my hands still on my knees. “You know those string of bank robberies, detective? They were me. I did them all.” I suck in an inflaming breath and force myself up. “Grayson has a bad heart. He’d die without my help, and you can’t pay the hospital with photographs.”

  “What does—”

  “You think my brother left Grayson a trust fund when he died?” I ask. “He didn’t leave shit. He did exactly what I do, he robbed banks. Now it’s my turn. And robbing banks is the only fucking thing that’s keeping Grayson alive.”

  Sophia doesn’t hesitate for a second. “What, are you expecting me to retreat like a little puppy? Do you really think that just cause I’m a cop I don’t understand circumstances?” she asks. “Even if you robbed a bank, even if you robbed twenty banks, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think those are your charges. Murder, Noah. That’s the charge you’re facing. Murder and twenty-five to life! How the fuck does that help Grayson? That’s not fair to him.”

  “Fair? You think this is about what’s fair?” I huff out a breath in frustration. “Let me tell you a little secret, none of this is fair. Not to Kris, not to Grayson, not to me. Life isn’t fair. Sometimes you can’t do the right fucking thing. Sometimes your choices are between wrong and wrong. I made my choices, Sophia.”

  “So that’s it?” she says. “Just like that? You’re really giving up after everything you’ve sacrificed?”

  “This is another one of my choices.”

  “It’s the wrong choice,” she whispers.

  I can’t respond to that. I only nod toward the door. “Get out of here while you still have the chance.”

  Sophia raises her eyebrows, her blue eyes growing wide again. It’s the last expression I see. She turns around and strides toward the door, flips the lock, steps out, and slams it behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sophia

  There’s tears in my eyes, swelled and ready to burst, but I don’t stop the car until I’m several miles from Noah’s house.

  I pull off at a spot where the road’s shoulder extends onto a patch of dirt. Dust kicks up behind me as I slam my foot on the break. I kill the ignition, rest my head on the wheel, and cry.

  “WHY?” I yell, filling the car with a series of sobbing screams. I dig my head into the wheel until the pressure hurts my forehead.


  My tears are already dripping onto my hands. I blubber the question again and again between sobs. It’s better than silence. My entire world is crumbling and silence isn’t going to make it stop. Staying calm isn’t going to make it stop.

  Nothing I can do will make it stop.

  I can’t even breathe. Each snivel requires a full breath and my lungs won’t inflate. All I can do is let the tears run rivers down my cheeks.

  Noah is going to prison, and he’s accepting it. He wants to go. He wants to leave everything behind. Wants to leave his job, his house, his life. Wants to leave me. And Grayson.

  God—that poor kid. So young and helpless. How can Noah do this to him? He’s got no father, no nothing. I’ve seen way too many kids lose their parents to the system. Grayson already lost his dad to the grave. And now his uncle, his last relative, is going to be taken away in chains. Where the hell is the justice in that? There’s absolutely none.

  I believe in justice. I believe in justice and I believe in our system because it’s the only one we’ve got. But I refuse to let our system neglect justice. I won’t let it happen.

  I use my sleeve to dry my cheeks. I need to think.

  Noah’s innocent. And if he refuses to do what’s right, then I will.

  But this isn’t about his innocence. There’s something more here.

  Another layer.

  Think.

  As I rack my brain I can’t help from thinking of Sherlock Holmes. The way he breaks down a case, solves it’s every in and out. His logic and utter brilliance. And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of the best detective in literature.

  But that’s exactly what it is. Literature. It’s fiction.

  Doyle can write the whole script, the perfect mystery with the perfect clues for Sherlock Holmes to uncover. I have clues, but I sure as hell am not writing the script. This thing is writing itself and it’s writing way too fast for me to keep up.

  And if I do nothing, it’s going to write me completely out of the story.

  It’s the word story that makes me think of the book, The Sign of Four. My favorite Sherlock Holmes novel with my favorite quote of all time. I can picture the scrap piece of paper where I first wrote it down, the same crinkled-up piece that’s sitting in my desk drawer, the one I’ve read a hundred times over…

  “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

  The image in my mind’s eye turns from the quote to Noah’s face. His green eyes, his hair, his smile, his torso and the rest of his body. He’s standing in front of me with a web of endless questions twisting behind him. And then it hits me.

  I dig my phone out from my pocket and begin searching for the last number to call me. As it rings I mumble the quote to myself, just to hear it aloud.

  …whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth…

  “Hello, this is Claire.”

  “Claire! This is Sophia.”

  “Sophia, are you okay?” She sounds frantic. “Please tell me you’re not in trouble!”

  “I’m fine, but I have another question.”

  “Oh God, you’re going to kill me with this. I really—”

  “The semen, Claire—you said it was all over her?”

  “Yes…” she murmurs

  “Over her, as in on top of her, correct? Not inside her?”

  “No, not inside her,” Claire says. “It was on her stomach and—”

  “Did you test the semen for traces of latex?” I ask.

  “Condom trace evidence?”

  “Yes, did anyone order a CTE test?”

  There’s a second of silence. “No. We did not.”

  My chest ignites with a flare of energy. “Okay, I need you to order a test for CTE. Please! As soon as possible.”

  “Is there—”

  “I don’t have time to explain right now, but I think I’m on to something. I need you to trust me and you have to act quickly. If I’m right about this, we’re going to have something big on our hands.”

  “Hold up, you can’t just spring all of this on me without explaining.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time right now. I just need you to trust me, Claire. More than you ever have. Please, I need you to order the test.”

  “Okay, but it’s expensive,” she says. “Really expensive. And this doesn’t sound like something the department’s funding…”

  “I’ll cover it. Whatever it is, I’ll reimburse you, I promise.” I twist the key in the ignition. “But I have to go.”

  Claire exhales into the phone. “Okay, I will. It’ll take at least twenty-four hours, but I will.”

  “That’s fine, just call me as soon as you get the results.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Claire. I owe you.” I click off without waiting for a response.

  My eyes dart to the rearview window. Empty. I shift into drive and crank the wheel as far as it’ll go. I press my foot on the pedal and down to the floor. The wheels skirt in the dirt and the car spins 180 degrees. It drifts across one lane and onto the other side of the road. I keep my foot to the ground as I speed back in the opposite direction.

  The direction of Savannah Platt’s house.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sophia

  I swallow and draw in a deep breath before tapping Savannah’s door as lightly and un-cop-like as I can.

  There’s a moment of pure silence before the sound of stirring inside.

  My heart’s racing. I’m more nervous than I’ve felt since my very first year on the force. I swallow again to compose myself. For a split second, I imagine Noah waiting right behind me in silent determination.

  Then comes a click from the inside door handle. It swings open and a woman and child fill the doorway.

  Grayson.

  He’s sitting upright in her arms, his head rested against her chest, but my gaze settles on the two little eyes nestled above his round cheeks, so bright and vibrantly green.

  The same color as Noah’s.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asks. Her blond hair is thrown up in a tangled bun with lose strands tucked behind her ears.

  Our gazes lock. She’s wearing enough makeup to help but not hide the bags under her eyes.

  “Savannah?” I ask.

  She nods cautiously, and for a second it’s as if the exhaustion leaves her face and I’m staring at a young beautiful woman. Her narrow face is strained with fatigue, but not far from the surface is undeniable beauty.

  “My name is Sophia,” I say. “I’m here to talk about Noah.”

  Savannah’s expression drops. “How nice of you,” she says, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “You can tell your boss or whoever that I have nothing to say to the cops.” She begins to shut the door, but I throw my foot in the doorway.

  “I’m not the cops,” I say. The door remains pressed against my foot before she slowly opens it again.

  She eyes me up and down. “Then who are you?”

  I begin scrambling for a response but stop myself. There’s no point. The truth is all I really have left, and there’s no reason to abandon it now. Not with Savannah.

  “My name is Sophia Bell and I—”

  “Why are you here?”

  I bite my lip at the way she cuts me off. “I’m here because I’m a friend of Noah’s and I’m trying to stop him from going to prison.”

  Savannah only stares back at me.

  “Would you mind if I come inside?” I ask. “I think the two of us should talk.”

  She hesitates, adjusting Grayson in her arms before taking a step back and gesturing me in.

  Savannah doesn’t offer water or coffee, and I don’t expect her to. I follow her down a hall, into the living room, and when she sits down in a rugged armchair, I take a seat across from her on an old couch with maroon upholstery.

  She sets Grayson on her knee. I’m about to speak when I notice the bump in her stomach.

&nb
sp; Savannah’s pregnant.

  Her eyes abruptly flick from Grayson to me.

  “I’m sure you heard that Noah was arrested,” I say quickly, hoping she didn’t notice the way I was gaping.

  Savannah nods.

  “Do you think he did it?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. I remain silent in hope that she’ll add more, but she doesn’t. Then, just as I’m about to continue, Savannah says, “I know he didn’t.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” I reply. Savannah only continues staring. She’s the type of person I’ve come across before, someone who says a million things with only their eyes.

  “I think that Noah’s been framed. Actually, I know he’s been framed,” I correct.

  “How?”

  “Because I was with him. The victim was killed last Thursday night and I was with Noah when it happened. He had nothing to do with it.”

  Savannah’s eyebrows draw together. Her lips flatten, and she eyes me with a new found suspicion. “You said you’re a friend of Noah’s?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “What kind of friend?” she asks with emphasis.

  I try my best to sound poised despite the flush in my cheeks. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

  Savannah cocks her head. “He’s never mentioned you to me.”

  That stings. It shouldn’t, but it does.

  “I’m not surprised,” I say flatly, and somehow admitting it helps to soften the blow. “Noah’s not the kind of guy to chat about most things. Especially those kinds of things.”

  The skepticism in her eyes eases into a normal stare. It’s my opportunity.

  “And honestly, that’s why I’m here,” I add. “If I’m going to help him out of this, then I need to know the things that he didn’t exactly chat about.” I want to continue but I make myself pause. I want to hear her talk. God only knows what more Noah hasn’t told me.

  Grayson mumbles something from her lap.

  “What? You want down?” Savannah coos. The toddler waves his arms. She lifts him up and holds both his hands as he steadies himself at her feet.