here, but there’s something about what you just said that isn’t right.”
“If you’re doubting my loyalty and commitment just know that it’s not with John Martin. It’s with Carla. I’m not callous. I’m a realist. I feel bad for Debbie, but I don’t give three shits about her worthless husband.”
Turning the knob, I go into the room without waiting for her response. Just like the car, the entire room is covered in a fine layer of dust. Not only has Debbie not been in this room since Martin disappeared, her kids haven’t either. There’s a desk at the far end of the room facing the door. Behind it is a series of file cabinets. Martin was a pig. Candy and fast-food wrappers clutter the desktop and overflow the trash can. He must have chucked his soda bottles as he emptied them across the room because there’s a pile of them in the corner.
“I’ll be surprised if there aren’t any rats or cockroaches in here,” Lila whispers as she closes the door behind us with a shudder. “The rest of the house is so
clean.
”
“Yeah, it’s strange. You’d think she would’ve kept up with the trash. She wasn’t joking that she never comes in here. I can’t see her leaving this room like this if she knew how bad it was.”
“Definitely not.”
I immediately move to the file cabinets. They aren’t labeled. I slip on a pair of latex gloves and try a few of the drawers, but they’re all locked. I glance back at Lila. She’s surveying the room like she doesn’t know what to do.
“Lock the door, will you? Just in case.” I pull out my set of lock picks and examine them, deciding which to try first.
“What are those,” she asks in a stage whisper.
“Lock picks.” I gesture toward the door. “Would you? I don’t want to get caught by one of the kids or Debbie if she suddenly decides she wants to watch us.”
“But won’t it be weird if she tries the door and it’s locked?”
“It’ll be a lot less weird than walking in on me picking these locks.”
Chapter 6
Lila
Nolan clearly has no problem crossing lines I’m not comfortable with. I hesitate, wondering if I’m this person. If I’m someone who will do
anything
—including breaking the law—for my client. Nolan waits for me to decide. He’s impatient, but not with me. He seems to know himself and is totally fine with bending the rules for a good cause.
How can he be so confident? Maybe because he’s done this before and knows he’ll do it again. It’s part of his job—the lying and the law breaking. It’s not part of mine. I’ve spent my whole life following the rules and trying not to stand out. This would be a huge change of character for me. Is this who I want to be?
And then I think of Carla and the look on her face as she went back to her cell. She’s depending on me. I can’t choke when things get hard. I have to live up to that trust even if it means doing something I’m not comfortable with. My hand moves toward the door. I watch it as though it’s not mine. It’s a traitor’s hand. I flinch at the click of the lock. It’s unusually loud in the quiet, dusty room.
When I look back at Nolan he’s watching me with a knowing half smile. In the dim light filtering in through the half-closed blinds he doesn’t look as confident as I originally thought. Could what he does for his job bother him on some level? Is he just as conflicted as I am about what we’re doing? As soon as I have the thought the look on his face changes to determination as he pulls a slim tool from the pouch in his hand and turns to the file cabinets.
“Why don’t you take a look at the desk,” he says over his shoulder.
The pop of the lock and the subsequent sliding of the file drawer make me glance back at the door, sure that Debbie must’ve heard. After a moment or two I realize that no one is coming in to catch us.
“If you’d be more comfortable hanging out with Debbie or in the car, I’d understand.”
“No. No. It’s okay.”
“If you’re doubting my loyalty and commitment just know that it’s not with John Martin. It’s with Carla. I’m not callous. I’m a realist. I feel bad for Debbie, but I don’t give three shits about her worthless husband.”
Turning the knob, I go into the room without waiting for her response. Just like the car, the entire room is covered in a fine layer of dust. Not only has Debbie not been in this room since Martin disappeared, her kids haven’t either. There’s a desk at the far end of the room facing the door. Behind it is a series of file cabinets. Martin was a pig. Candy and fast-food wrappers clutter the desktop and overflow the trash can. He must have chucked his soda bottles as he emptied them across the room because there’s a pile of them in the corner.
“I’ll be surprised if there aren’t any rats or cockroaches in here,” Lila whispers as she closes the door behind us with a shudder. “The rest of the house is so
clean.
”
“Yeah, it’s strange. You’d think she would’ve kept up with the trash. She wasn’t joking that she never comes in here. I can’t see her leaving this room like this if she knew how bad it was.”
“Definitely not.”
I immediately move to the file cabinets. They aren’t labeled. I slip on a pair of latex gloves and try a few of the drawers, but they’re all locked. I glance back at Lila. She’s surveying the room like she doesn’t know what to do.
“Lock the door, will you? Just in case.” I pull out my set of lock picks and examine them, deciding which to try first.
“What are those,” she asks in a stage whisper.
“Lock picks.” I gesture toward the door. “Would you? I don’t want to get caught by one of the kids or Debbie if she suddenly decides she wants to watch us.”
“But won’t it be weird if she tries the door and it’s locked?”
“It’ll be a lot less weird than walking in on me picking these locks.”
Chapter 6
Lila
Nolan clearly has no problem crossing lines I’m not comfortable with. I hesitate, wondering if I’m this person. If I’m someone who will do
anything
—including breaking the law—for my client. Nolan waits for me to decide. He’s impatient, but not with me. He seems to know himself and is totally fine with bending the rules for a good cause.
How can he be so confident? Maybe because he’s done this before and knows he’ll do it again. It’s part of his job—the lying and the law breaking. It’s not part of mine. I’ve spent my whole life following the rules and trying not to stand out. This would be a huge change of character for me. Is this who I want to be?
And then I think of Carla and the look on her face as she went back to her cell. She’s depending on me. I can’t choke when things get hard. I have to live up to that trust even if it means doing something I’m not comfortable with. My hand moves toward the door. I watch it as though it’s not mine. It’s a traitor’s hand. I flinch at the click of the lock. It’s unusually loud in the quiet, dusty room.
When I look back at Nolan he’s watching me with a knowing half smile. In the dim light filtering in through the half-closed blinds he doesn’t look as confident as I originally thought. Could what he does for his job bother him on some level? Is he just as conflicted as I am about what we’re doing? As soon as I have the thought the look on his face changes to determination as he pulls a slim tool from the pouch in his hand and turns to the file cabinets.
“Why don’t you take a look at the desk,” he says over his shoulder.
The pop of the lock and the subsequent sliding of the file drawer make me glance back at the door, sure that Debbie must’ve heard. After a moment or two I realize that no one is coming in to catch us.
“If you’d be more comfortable hanging out with Debbie or in the car, I’d understand.”
“No. No. It’s okay.”
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