swallowed. “What about the papers? The passports.” The girls, you lying piece of garbage.
There was a long pause. Then: “It’s not a problem. The statute of limitations expired a long time ago. Besides, you have no evidence that I ever did that sort of thing. And they obviously don’t either.”
I hummed in acknowledgement. My entire body still felt numb, but something deep inside me was ticking again.
“I was also thinking about that vow renewal. I want to make it happen in the next week, two at the latest. I’ve already called a planner, and she’s getting us into St. John’s on a cancellation. You can wear your old wedding gown or get a new one. You just need to look the fucking part. Do you understand?”
I hummed again in accord, though I had absolutely no intention of walking down any sort of aisle with this man ever again. I would have rather died.
“And, Nina?”
I swallowed. “Yes?”
“If you don’t? Everything will come out in the open. Is that clear?”
I understood so much more than he thought.
And so, I found myself nodding.
“Yes,” I said softly.
“That’s right, princess.” Calvin’s voice struck a strangely hypnotic note. “Now do as you’re told and get back to New York. We have some work to do before your deposition.”
The line went dead as he hung up. I sat on the edge of my bed for several minutes, hand pressed to my heart as I tried to calm it down to a normal rate.
Not because I was afraid anymore.
Because I was full of knowledge.
There was only one path forward for me now. For the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I needed to do. And I finally had the courage to do it.
Postlude
December 2018
Matthew
I approached the corner office at the end of my hall with lead in my feet and my stomach.
“Hey, Shirley,” I said to the assistant manning the desk outside.
The small, gray-haired lady I’d seen most days for the past seven years smiled at me. “Hi, honey.”
“He in?”
She clicked a few screens on her computer. “Yes, he has a minute or two.” She pressed a button on the intercom. “Matthew Zola out here.”
“It’ll just be a minute,” I told her, though I wasn’t sure why. I needed to tell someone, I guessed. Someone had to know what I was about to do.
Shirley just gave me a sympathetic smile, but didn’t look surprised. “Go on in, hon.”
I walked into the office of Greg Cardozo, executive assistant district attorney and head of the Bureau of Organized Crime and Racketeering. My boss for the last three years, and before that, the guy who trained me when I was as green as the trees waving in the park a few blocks away. Rumor had it he was up for promotion, and he hadn’t made much of a secret that he was grooming me for his job.
“Greg,” I said.
Cardozo looked up. “Zola, hey. What’s going on?” He frowned, suspicious. Yeah, I wasn’t ever one for hand-holding, or to be loitering around anyone’s office.
My throat felt thick. Like it had been coated in paste.
“I—” I cleared my throat. Better get it the fuck over with. “Here.”
I slid the paper I’d typed up and signed just before walking down the hall onto his desk. It was still warm from the printer.
Cardozo frowned at it, then looked back at me. “What’s this?”
“It’s my letter of resignation.” I had to look out the window and immediately hated myself for it. A real man looks another man in the eye when he’s full of shame. Even if he does have his tail between his legs. But here I was, staring at everything but my boss like one of the perps we interrogated regularly.
“For what?” Cardozo asked.
I sighed. “You’re not going to like this.”
Cardozo sat back in his chair and folded his hands. “Try me.”
So I sank down into the chair opposite him and proceeded to tell him the whole story. Well, most of it. Greg was a good boss. Partly because he knew how to listen. He sat back in his chair while I told him the story of me and the de Vries family, starting with that night, nearly a year ago now, when I’d gotten the call from Jane about her father. I skimped the details, of course, but recounted how and when I had first met Nina. And then described when I’d met her again, only to learn exactly who she was.