Page 16 of Small Sacrifices

When Reid steps into the big office the next day, it's overcrowded.

People he didn't see at the strategy meeting yesterday are milling about, sipping coffee, leaning against desks that aren't theirs, and generally seeming bored—or maybe tired.

It's hard to tell, especially since he's barely awake himself.

It was a fight to get his breakfast down this morning.

But if he doesn't eat a proper breakfast, he can't take his meds, and then he can kiss productivity goodbye for the day.

When Marisol spots him lingering by the door in apprehension, she narrows her eyes at him and crooks her finger to bid him to come over. He follows the order without even thinking about it. Soon, he finds himself sitting on the carpet next to her desk while she hisses at him.

"Seriously, Reid? You couldn't even talk to me about this? This is big! And you just dropped that shit on my desk and left without saying a word?"

"I didn't know what to say." He still doesn't know what to say, what to think. Nothing is not an option in this scenario.

"And you couldn't ask me? Have I ever given you the impression that you can't talk to me?

" She looks annoyed, maybe even angry, with her eyebrows drawn together and her forehead all scrunched up, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

Reid feels a twinge in his stomach. Did he hurt her?

Is this a thing that can hurt people? He didn't even consider that yesterday.

"I'm sorry," he says. And then, to show that he's taking it seriously: "I was overwhelmed and just wanted to leave. I'll talk to you next time."

Her expression changes instantly to something much softer. "Please, yeah? I'd appreciate that."

He nods. "Absolutely. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine." Her sigh sounds slightly sinister. "That's quite something you found there. I'd only found hints so far—this is pretty definitive."

"Well, it could still be—"

"But it isn't," she hisses. "It fucking isn't. Don't tell me you looked at this and were genuinely convinced it was a coincidence for even one second. Neither one of us is stupid."

Before Reid can respond, someone claps their hands so loudly that he jumps.

The uncushioned landing is quite unpleasant for his tailbone.

When he looks up, trying to ignore the literal pain in his butt, he sees Mr. Wright.

Because of course it's him. With hands that large, it's a wonder no one's eardrums burst.

"Listen up everyone!" the man booms. "Just a quick status update so that we're all on the same page." He waits a bit for the chatter to die down. "Okay. Well, I'll just say it: The soil tests came back positive for pesticides linked to Agrifarm."

Reid feels his throat constrict. Fuck. The confirmation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. So much for the hope of resolving this quickly and quietly. If the accusations—or part of them—are true, then they'll have to address them. That won't make things easier.

"We've unearthed the surveyor's report from back then that declared the property clean and are investigating what happened, but there are definitely toxic substances in the ground now."

Reid feels a pang of frustration. It shouldn't be a surprise that there was a report.

Why didn't he think of that? There had to be proof that the land was safe, especially for building a school.

Did Agrifarm bribe the surveyor? If they did, could Governor Mackenzie have been.

.. defrauded? The word feels inadequate compared to the consequences.

"There's an emergency relief fund being opened by the State of California so that everyone can access healthcare. The details are still being ironed out, but it's supposed to be an unbureaucratic help for all children affected."

"Fucking finally," Marisol says under her breath. Reid can only agree.

"Now for the important part." Mr. Wright squares his shoulders, which makes him look even more massive.

"The governor will take a backseat on this one where the public is concerned.

No big statements. This ain't about him, and he ain't gonna make it be about him.

It's about the families. That's why we’ll be visiting Chesterton starting next Wednesday.

The governor is gonna meet with the parents to hear them out.

All speeches and statements will be made by Lieutenant Governor Coleman. "

Huh. Reid wonders how Coleman feels about that. Does she even know yet? Has Governor Mackenzie finally talked to her? God, he hopes so.

When he can't figure out how he feels about this, he turns to look at Marisol. Unfortunately, she's sporting her very best poker face. But for good reason. It turns out that Mr. Wright is looking at the two of them with his eyes narrowed.

Reid's insides freeze up. What is his face doing right now? Is it acceptable? He isn't even feeling anything intense. Mostly confusion. It's probably okay if he looks confused.

"Questions?" Mr. Wright asks in that tone that makes it incredibly clear he isn't interested in answering them.

Reid lies by omission—or maybe by silence, in this case.

He's got more questions than fingers to count them on, but he's already on thin ice, what with the incident the day before.

Something is niggling in the back of his head, pushing him to ask why the governor isn't making this update himself.

But he knows that's likely the exact thing Mr. Wright was hired for.

And if it were Reid, he'd be busy writing sternly worded emails to Agrifarm and desperately avoiding the phone, so he probably shouldn't judge.

Someone has the gumption to ask when they can expect the emergency fund to be fully set up. Reid would love to know that. But he pities the fool now in the direct path of Mr. Wright's withering glare.

"They didn't tell me. It's gonna be set up when it's gonna be set up. You wanna know more, call them yourself." How did this man manage to climb the ladder so high without even an iota of patience for anyone but the governor will forever be a mystery to Reid.

Once everyone has dispersed, he stares at his phone for a bit. Can he just call Ms. Greene now? Mr. Wright hasn't given him the go-ahead yet. But then again—will he? If Reid asks for it, the man just might explode.

That's a worry in itself, but there's also Marisol. Does she still want to discuss what he found yesterday? She's furiously typing away on her laptop, which suggests she's absorbed in her work, but he could be wrong.

Instead of asking, he just goes ahead and looks up the surveyor's report Mr. Wright just mentioned.

Of course, it's already online, sent to various newspapers and news networks anonymously.

On a good day, Reid would bet actual money this was engineered by someone on this team, if not Mr. Wright himself.

It's almost reassuring. Because if they're willing to push it out this far and get this many eyes on it, then it must be real, right?

But it's there. The document exists, and Reid can look at the signatures at the bottom and tell himself that Governor Mackenzie saw this report and trusted the people who wrote it.

He thought the property was safe. If he saw this document, can people even rightfully accuse him of not doing his due diligence?

Unfortunately, they can accuse him of being suspiciously good at helping Agrifarm reach their goals.

The thought stings, but it's better than the uncertainty Reid faced yesterday.

Marisol is still immersed in her research, so it’s time to make the call. A tingling sense of dread fills him at the thought. Because it's not like he can tell her about anything the governor is doing. Naturally, that's the first thing she points out to him.

"That money comes from the State of California," she says, her voice remarkably level.

"And I'm very thankful for it, don't get me wrong.

But I want to know what he's gonna do to help us.

" It's echo-y in the background, like she's in an empty room or maybe a hallway.

Somewhere far away, something is beeping.

"Well, right now, we are planning to help focus the narrative on the people who were actually affected. That's partially why he’ll visit next week. He won't be the only one listening to your concerns. All of California will."

If you're willing to express them in front of a camera, he doesn't say. But a small scoff on the other end of the line tells him she gets the idea.

"Why isn't he saying anything now? He could address us while he's in Sacramento. He doesn't need to cross the state for that. What's the hold up?"

Reid sighs and crosses his fingers. He hopes she won't take this the wrong way. "He gave a statement on Monday, but that just devolved into speculation about blame. It would draw the public eye away from the issue at hand. The governor's possible involvement is already being investigated."

At least he thinks so. If not yet officially, then definitely by journalists, political opponents and environmentalists alike. And, technically, by employees in his own office. "But you’re in an acute crisis. If you want both help and accountability, then the attention has to remain on you."

Agrifarm is already trying to twist the narrative.

On his drive to work this morning, Reid heard a public liaison officer on the radio claim that construction work can leave behind harmful compounds, as if the cause of the children's illness is unclear.

Another voice suggested that the children wouldn't be so sick if their teachers hadn't allowed them to eat dirt. Delightful .