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“Well, I’ve been thinking about that.”
I wince. It’s definitely not the exuberant and affirmative “Yes, of course!” that I wanted her to say. So I lose Ainsley too?
“What can I do to convince you to stay?” I ask. “The world is going to look a lot different once my dad comes back and we can reshuffle leadership and responsibilities. Even if you want to try something different, not necessarily being my assistant, like having your own position if there’s a department that interests you, that’d be cool.”
Ainsley is quiet, focusing on driving through a mess of taxis, Ubers, and pedestrians.
“And of course, you totally deserve a raise.”
She keeps checking her rear and side view mirrors.
“I would just hate to lose you at Milenna.”
She hums something and I can’t tell if it’s a murmur of agreement or not.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she finally says. “In New York it’s so hard to tell if you have a tail or not since all the cars are basically the same black town car or yellow taxi.”
“You think we’re being followed?” I go on the alert, turning in my seat to scan the cars to the sides and behind us. There are a lot of blacked-out windows.
“Maybe. Don’t worry, I’m the agency’s best defensive driver. Just sit back and we’ll get there fine.”
I face forward again and let Ainsley do her thing.
“There’s something I do need to talk to you about,” she says, eyes glued to the road. She takes a minute to search for a few choice words. “Okay, well let me just put this out there.” She starts to make some vague gestures with her hand as she navigates multiple lanes of traffic. “Uh, in most high-profile cases against criminal organizations, evidence is not enough. Witnesses are required and of course, they are putting themselves in extreme danger in order to testify or do a deposition or whatever. Law is not my strong suit. Anyways, they’re in danger for doing that, so much so that it’s usually in their best interest to enter a witness protection program.”
I’m following what she’s saying, but my brain can’t apply it yet. What does that matter to me?
“And most people we know would take the option that’s in their best interest. The option that keeps them alive. Especially if there’s already been an attempt on their life.”
My jaw drops as the full weight of what she’s alluding to hits me square in the chest, knocking the breath out of me.
“You’re saying my dad-”
“No, no, no,” Ainsley waves her hands in front of her in a desperate attempt to cut me off. “I’m not saying anything about anyone, I’m just giving you some information about criminal cases.” She widens her eyes at me as if to say Don’t say anything else.
“I’m just saying that in my experience, witnesses never return to their former lives. And I don’t expect this to be any different.”
It’s like someone kicked me in the stomach.
“But-” I try to pick out words that won’t be too specific. “Usually, they inform their families of that in some way, right?”
Ainsley shakes her head. “Not usually.”
I feel sick. “No, he let me believe…look, I understand being safe and witness protection and all that. But that means I’ve been lied to.”
“Honestly, Laina, anyone can let you believe what you want if it benefits them in some way.”
Have I been blindsided by my own father? My chest goes tight as I cycle through disbelief and hurt. I don’t know who I’m more upset at, Ainsley for correcting me or my dad for pulling the ultimate bait-and-switch.
“I should have known this sooner,” I whisper, my voice shaking with anger.
“I honestly thought you did until just now.”
A surge of violence rolls through me and I want to hit something, a feeling I’ve never experienced before.
Was I stupid, naive? Or did my dad want me to believe that he’d come back so I would be motivated to access the dossier? Am I truly never going to see him again?
