Flipping Fates

by A. C. Williams

  He’d struggled with addiction before. He’d told me as much. So was it possible he’d gone back to it?

  It’s not that I want him to be false, but people don’t change. Not really. I don’t like how much sense this makes, and I’m already squirming in discomfort before my dad speaks again.

  “The authorities believe that Mr. Wilner volunteered for the project because he was aware of the operation.” Dad weaves his fingers together on his desk. “He didn’t want it to be discovered.”

  “This is a lie.” Cecily’s voice is sharp and cuts to the bone.

  I glance at her.

  She sits ramrod straight on the sofa, hands folded in her lap, muscle in the back of her jaw twitching. Her eyes—are burning. Her expression is fierce.

  “Keith would not participate in something of this nature,” she says. “It goes against everything he believes, everything he has conquered in his life.”

  “Cecily.” I turn toward her gently. “He has a history—”

  “Everyone has a history, Patricia,” Cecily snaps. “But that does not indicate that they will be controlled by it.” She blinks and focuses her laser eyes on my dad. “Keith is innocent. These accusations are unjust.”

  My dad holds up a hand. “Just because the authorities have arrested him doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything.” He sighs. “They had probable cause because of his background, but to be fair, none of the staffers at the Union Rescue Mission believe he’s guilty. His unit is being searched as we speak.”

  “His unit?” Nathan frowns.

  “If there are any drugs or alcohol in his unit, he’ll be removed from the URM program,” Dad says. “And it will only be more likely that he participated in something illegal at the house.”

  “He did not.” Cecily looks away.

  “I hope you’re right, Cecily.” Dad smiles kindly. “Nevertheless, once the house is cleared, you all are welcome to go back to work. But considering what happened—I want to make it clear that none of you have to.” Dad puts his gaze on me specifically. “There were four people in that house who attacked you and Aaron, Trisha. And if your statement to the police is accurate, one of them died when he fell down the stairs.”

  I gulp for air.

  Dad leaves out the most important part.

  One of them died when he fell down the stairs after I grabbed onto his leg. One of them died because I was responsible for breaking his neck.

  I’m glad Dad left that part out.

  But I know it. And Aaron knows it.

  “I would understand if you’d like to say job done.” Dad spreads his hands on the desk and sighs.

  “No.” I shake my head. “We’re not finished. There’s still so much to do.”

  “And the auction is still happening, right?” Aaron sits forward. “Keith’s situation withstanding, selling the house and giving its profits to URM is still happening?”

  “Yes.” Dad nods.

  “Then we’re not done.” Aaron glances at me. “We need to finish.”

  Dad’s smile is bright, even though his eyes still look worried.

  “Then, you can finish.” Dad nods. “Starting tomorrow. Any other questions or concerns?”

  “Not for me.” Nathan stands up. “Thanks for giving us an out, sir, but we’ll be fine.”

  Dad looks at me. “Trisha, I’ll take you and Aaron back to the house, but I do have a few phone calls to make.”

  Of course, he does.

  “That’s fine, Dad.”

  “Please, help yourselves to drinks or cookies in the lobby.” Dad jerks his head at the door. “Tell Marjorie I said so.”

  Nathan, spurred on by the promise of cookies, dashes out the door. With a departing hug around my shoulders, Prisha follows him.

  Cecily hasn’t moved.

  I push myself up and turn to her. “Cecily?”

  She slowly looks at me. “He is innocent, Patricia.”

  I hold out my hand to her, and—will wonders never cease—she takes it. Cecily stands up, and we walk toward the door together. Cecily doesn’t let go of my hand. Her fingers are cold and dry.

  Aaron comes out behind us, and we make a beeline to the lobby where cookies and sweet tea beckon.

  After a night of hospital food, I’m ravenous.

  Fortunately, Marjorie isn’t being difficult and freely gives us access to the church office snacks. Aaron and Nathan grab handfuls of cookies and start chatting about the house. Prisha sips her tea and hovers at my elbow, her big dark eyes wide and worried as she stares at me. She’s probably making a categorical list of all my visible bruises.

  Girl, you should see the ones that aren’t visible.

  I hold the cookie plate up to Cecily, but she shakes her head and sits down on a chair in the lobby. I take the seat next to her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Cecily worries her bottom lip before she blinks. “I am concerned for Keith.”

  “I guessed that. But is there something specific?”

  “I am confident that he has not returned to his former lifestyle, but I am concerned that the stress of being detained may hinder some of the progress he’s made.”

  Well, I hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “You think he’ll be in greater danger of relapsing after he’s released?”

  Cecily hesitates. “I believe it is more necessary than ever to believe in his innocence.” She nods. “To support him so that he understands this event was neither his doing nor anyone’s actual belief of his guilt. That it is a process that must be followed in order to ascertain the truth of the matter.”

  I take an oatmeal raisin cookie and nibble on it. The act of chewing is quite painful as well.

  And I thought I was angry at Kicky before.

  Now I can’t even eat cookies.

  “Keith is a good person,” Cecily says. “He has come from a dark place, but he has embraced faith as a pillar to withstand the temptations to drift back into his old lifestyle. He is someone to look up to.”

  “I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like this,” I say.

  Truthfully I’ve never heard Cecily say this much about anything outside of video games or nerdy movies.

  She smiles.

  Actually smiles.

  Have I ever seen her smile?

  “I have never met anyone like Keith.” The smile shines in her eyes.

  “You like him.”

  Cecily blinks and holds my gaze.

  “I mean, you like-him, like-him.”

  “Perhaps I do.” Cecily is still smiling. “You do not have the monopoly on first relationships in your thirties, Patricia Lee.”

  “No, I guess I don’t.”

  Huh.

  In all the years I’ve known Cecily, I have never seen her judge someone wrongly. She doesn’t talk a lot. She doesn’t speak without thinking. And she doesn’t support anyone or anything that she disagrees with.

  So if she is so firmly behind Keith, that should probably tell me everything I need to know about him, no matter what my instincts tell me.

  I reach out to take her cold hand again and squeeze her fingers.

  “Well,” I say, “then let’s pray that the truth is known.” I nod. “And that Keith knows we didn’t give up on him.”

  Cecily squeezes my fingers back. Her smile doesn’t fade.

  So Many Faces to Look At

  Cecily fidgets.

  I don’t recall her doing that often. Daydreaming, yes. Talking to herself in other languages that I don’t know? Yes. But never fidgeting.

  “Hey.” I lean forward to look into her face. “It’ll be okay.”

  She folds her hands in her lap and nods.

  The detention center lobby smells like antiseptic and dust at the same time, which is a bit weird. The cold plastic chairs are stiff and uncomfortable, and the air conditioning is on full blast. Normally I’d approve, but I’m pretty sure icicles are growing on my nose, it’s so cold in here.

  “Are you clear on ev
erything you need to tell him?” I turn to Cecily again.

  She nods.

  Only one of us will be allowed back to speak to Keith through the glass. I figure it would be best that it was Cecily, since she had connected with him the most closely out of our team.

  “I shall inform him of the search for the perpetrators,” Cecily says. “I shall also update him on the results of the search of his unit.”

  “Right.”

  His living unit had been searched thoroughly twice without recovering any drugs or any indication of drug use, which meant that the Union Rescue Mission was holding his job for him. As far as the URM was concerned, this was a misunderstanding. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s what Cecily believes too.

  “He would never go back to that life, Patricia,” Cecily whispers as she begins to fidget again.

  “Addiction is powerful, Cecily.” I lean back in the hard chair. “He might not want to, but sometimes we don’t want what’s good for us.”

  Cecily shakes her head. “Is there a reason why you refuse to think the best of him, Patricia?”

  I raise my eyebrow at her. “Is there a reason why you can’t consider he might be guilty?”

  “The law.” Cecily sits up. “He is innocent until he is proven guilty, and at this point in the investigation, all evidence points to his innocence.”

  “Then why is he still in jail?”

  “His previous record.” Cecily shrugs. “He already has a count of drug possession on his record. This requires a harsher response from local authorities. But once all the evidence is assembled, I am confident he will be released.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Cecily looks away.

  Why can’t I think the best of Keith? Why can’t I just let go of my suspicions of him? He has done nothing but help and serve and offer kindness from the moment I met him. I just—don’t trust him. But is that his fault? Or my own?

  “Visitor for Keith Wilner,” a voice calls out from the door on the opposite end of the room.

  Cecily stands and walks toward the officer at the door.

  It shuts behind her.

  I sink into my chair and lean my head against the wall.

  Why can’t things be smooth? Why can’t I ever have relationships that are easy? Why does every situation in my life have to turn into something catastrophic?

  Keith and Cecily have a special friendship. I can tell that much. And Cecily has always been a great judge of character. That much I also know is true. I was willing to think the best about Keith yesterday, but now—being here—sitting in this stiflingly cold lobby of the county detention facility? This is real. The danger is real. The trouble is real.

  Keith has a history with this life.

  But then, so did Jordin.

  Not for the first time, I let myself think about the young woman who first opened my eyes to how difficult life can be. Before Jordin, I just bumped along the bottom of life, serving at church, doing the minimum to be friends with people I didn’t like. Before Jordin, I could only see the outside of people.

  Jordin taught me that’s not the way to look at people. You can’t assume someone’s life story based on how they’re dressed or how they talk or what they do. What we can see on the outside of someone is only a small piece of the puzzle.

  But that’s not what I’m doing with Keith, is it?

  He’s already been here before. He’s done this before. He went to the Mission to get help, sure, but can he really change? Can anyone really change?

  I heave a loud sigh and wish that Aaron had come with us. I need to talk about this with him. I need to let this frustration and confusion out to someone, and Cecily isn’t someone I can talk with. Especially not about this.

  She’s always been logical. But she’s never been in a relationship. What if her emotions are leading her astray? What if she’s in love with Keith and is willing to make allowances for what he’s doing in order to be with him? What if she’s willing to cover for him if he’s breaking the law?

  If Aaron were a criminal, would I cover for him?

  Surely I wouldn’t. Surely I’d know better. But then—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

  No, that’s not true.

  I shut my eyes. I would do anything for him because I know he’d never ask me to do something wrong, something illegal, something that goes against what God says is right. That’s who Aaron is. He’s good.

  But I don’t know Keith well enough to be able to say that about him, and I’m scared that Cecily has gotten to the place in her relationship with him too quickly. That she will support him regardless of his actions or his choices simply because she thinks she loves him.

  “Miss Lee?”

  I startle and look up.

  “Sorry!” The police officer in front of me holds up his hands with a smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Officer Raymond.” I sit up. “No, you’re fine. Sorry, it’s been a long week.”

  He holds out his hand, and I shake it as he settles into the seat next to me.

  “No doubt, Miss Lee.” He smiles. “I thought I might find you here.”

  I frown. “You’re looking for me?”

  “Detective Maxwell is.” He gestures over his shoulder. “He landed your case, and he’d like to speak with you if you’re available.”

  I glance toward the doorway where Cecily had gone.

  “I’m waiting for a friend,” I say. “She’s visiting—well, another friend.”

  “Mr. Wilner.” Raymond nods. “Yeah.”

  “You know him?” My stomach twists.

  “Keith?” He grins. “Of course. Everybody knows Keith. He and some of the other guys down at URM bring donuts down to the station once a month.”

  “Donuts?”

  “Cop food.” Raymond winks at me.

  I shake my head. “Of course he does.”

  Way to go, Trisha. Think terrible things about the one criminal that even the police love.

  “We can let your friend know when she comes out.” Raymond nods toward the door. “Maxwell is officed here in this building right now.”

  “Sure.” I stand up and crack my back. “Do you know—I mean, what does he need?”

  “We’ve got some photos we’d like you to look through.” Raymond takes my elbow and moves me through the lobby into the hallway on the other side.

  He waves at the receptionist as he ushers me to the other side of the building.

  All of his gear rattles and clanks loudly as he moves. He pushes open another door that leads into a large main room full of glassed-in offices and cubicles like a maze. He wanders through it with confidence until he stops at a door with a tacked-on nameplate, Detective Troy Maxwell.

  “Hey, Max. Found her.”

  The man behind the desk inside lifts his face. He’s forty-ish. Brown hair and hazel eyes. Quick smile. But the angles on his face tell me he can be intense if he needs to be.

  Detective Maxwell holds out his hand, and I shake it.

  “Thanks for being available, Miss Lee.” He grins.

  “I’m not doing anything else.” I shrug and sit in the chair Raymond points me to.

  “I’ll wait for your friend,” he says. “I’ll bring her back once she’s finished with Keith.”

  “Thanks, Officer.”

  Raymond smiles and ducks out of sight.

  “All right.” Maxwell leans down to the side of his desk and lays a notebook full of images in front of me. “Give that a look and see if you spot anyone familiar.”

  I open the notebook slowly and cast an uncertain glance at him. “From the attack?”

  “Yeah.” Maxwell steeples his fingers on the desk. “The squatters.”

  I wince. “I didn’t really see them.”

  “Give it a look anyway. You never know.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, even though it still feels swollen.

  Maxwell turns to his computer, and I start flipping
through the pages of the notebook. After ten pages, I haven’t seen anyone even remotely familiar.

  “I didn’t get a good look,” I mutter. “Maybe you can talk to Aaron?”

  “Ah, Guinness?” Maxwell glances at me. “Yes, I sent Officer Baker to track down Mr. Guinness with a copy of that notebook.”

  I nod and flip a few more pages.

  Face after face, photo after photo, so many people. Were all of them criminals? It was an overwhelming thought that so many people could be out and about, a danger and a threat to others.

  I pause as a pair of dark eyes stare up at me from a thin face.

  I must hesitate because Maxwell’s chair creaks as he leans toward me.

  “See someone?”

  “Well.” I point to the thin-faced man in the photo. He’s probably mid-twenties. “This one looks familiar.” I taste blood in my mouth and force myself to stop chewing on my lip. “But I can’t tell you if he’s one of the squatters or just someone I’ve seen.”

  He looks so familiar.

  Like someone I’ve seen recently. But I can’t put my finger on it.

  Maxwell glances at it and shrugs. He’s not impressed. I don’t blame him.

  I flip through the rest of the book and don’t see anyone I know.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pushing the notebook away.

  “Don’t apologize.” Maxwell’s smile is gentle. “It’s something we like to check, just in case.” His eyebrows furrow. “How are you feeling? You and Mr. Guinness had quite an adventure.”

  I touch the bruising still visible on my face. “Yeah, it was wild.”

  “You were fortunate that neither of you were hurt more badly.”

  I nod.

  The awkward clumps and thumps my body had made as it tumbled down the stairs with the man who’d attacked us ring in my ears. I swallow hard.

  “Detective?”

  He looks at me.

  “The man who died.”

  His expression softens. “What about him?”

  Why am I asking this? This isn’t something I want to know, is it?

  “What was his name?” The words spill out before I can rein them in.

  Detective Maxwell sits back in his chair and pulls a file out of a drawer. “As I understand it, Miss Lee, that man attacked you and Mr. Guinness. From what we know about him, he probably would have killed you. Your actions were entirely justified.”