Page 149 of Nobody's Fool

“You’re not that naïve, Kierce.” Archie clears his throat, and I can almost feel a shift in the room. He stands now, sturdy on his own twofeet. “I can help you and your family more,” he says, his voice returning to normal. “You’ve done remarkable work. I think a bonus—”

“I want the money I’m owed,” I say. “Not a penny more from you.”

He nods and wisely chooses silence.

I don’t know what to do here anyway. I can’t prove any of this. Archie knew that coming into this meeting. He’s still in control. There is no real evidence. It was all so long ago. Even if I could prove it, the statute of limitations on vehicular manslaughter has passed. Thomas wouldn’t serve any time.

What would be the point?

To be fair, I understand the terrible choices Archie as a father faced that night. I’m furious about what he did, but I also get it. Lose two kids or lose one. That was how he saw it. A cold calculation—but was it also an accurate one? Suppose Henry had a sister, and something like this happens? What would I do? Not what Belmond did, I hope, but I get it. What happened broke them all—maybe Archie most especially.

I turn to leave now.

“What are you going to do?” Archie asks.

I don’t respond. I just hear Anna’s words ring in my ear.

“Promise me first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t hurt them. That you’ll protect them.”

I think about that. And then I walk away.

EPILOGUE

Three Weeks Later

“Class dismissed,” I say.

They all came to this week’s No Shit, Sherlock class.

The Pink Panthers still huddled together, but tonight they sat closer to theThree Dead Hotspodcast girls. Lenny and Gary hung together. Debbie had sat in the back with Raymond, wearing a yellow sleeveless mesh shirt, as he clipped his toenails again.

Now, everyone files by me as they leave. I’ve seen videos online where first-grade teachers greet their students with some kind of complicated handshake before each class. We do something similar at the end with fist bumps.

“Don’t worry,” Gary says to me. “We’ll get him.”

He is talking about Tad Grayson. We seem no closer to putting him back behind bars. There is nothing tying him to Nicole anymore, and the Newark Police have so far drawn a blank on the murder of Brian Powell.

I thank him and move on.

The Three Dead Hots linger and are last to leave. I know why. “We’re going to hit a few clubs on the way home,” their leader, Carrie, says to me.

“How many is a few?” I ask.

“Like, three. We’re going to talk about the upcoming podcast. Wanna join?”

“Hard pass,” I say, but I smile as I do.

“You’re a warrior, Kierce.”

I don’t know what that means in this context, but I thank her for it.

After they exit, Marty calls me. “Where are you?”

I don’t like the tone of his voice.