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“Yeah, that would be awesome!”
“Okay, go clean up after your snack. Do you have any homework?” I ask, reaching for her backpack.
“No, or, well, I did, but I finished it on the bus. It was a reading assignment.” She climbs down from the barstool and throws away her trash before heading upstairs.
I start to unzip her backpack when I hear the front door close and Alex’s footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Hey,” he leans up against the door frame. “Now a good time to talk?”
“Yeah, Chloe went upstairs. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water?”
I grab two bottles, handing him one and opening one for myself. “What I had started to tell you earlier was when I got to my office today, I had an urgent call from the lawyer representing Talia, our lead witness against Delmore. He said that she was no longer testifying because her family was . . . they were attacked last night.” I struggle to finish the sentence.
“Attacked? How?” Alex steps further into the kitchen, placing his hands flat on the island as he narrows his gaze.
“I guess they smashed their car windows, slashed tires, and threw a Molotov cocktail into their front room.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, taking a step back and running his hands through his dark hair. “Are they okay? Did they see who did it?”
“They’re okay, thankfully. Talia and her husband were able to put the fire out rather quickly and their sons slept through most of it. Clyde didn’t know anything else—like if they saw the faces of those who were involved.”
Alex paces the kitchen floor slowly, his hands stacked on top of his head as he thinks. “Okay, I’ll reach out to my contacts on the force—see if they can tell me anything. If the Fernandez’s have any cameras on their house, or their neighbors have something, I should be able to get access to that.”
“What’s that going to do though?”
“Help me identify this fucker. If I can find out who it is, I can take care of the problem.”
“Take care of it?” I ask nervously.
He gives me a look—one that tells me I don’t want to know. “I’d eliminate the problem, Juliette.”
“Understood,” I say softly, unsure of what to do or say next.
“Wait,” he pauses, “how did they know she was testifying? I thought that was confidential, and I can’t imagine she would tell anyone, given that she’s a whistleblower against a billion-dollar company.”
“I don’t know, and that’s what I can’t figure out. You knew, I knew, my assistant who signed an NDA knew, plus Talia and her husband, obviously, and Brett. I didn’t even tell the partners.”
I already know what he’s about to say before he says it. “You thi—”
“No,” I say before he can finish. “Brett wouldn’t say a word. I’d bet my career and life on it.” He nods, not doubling down. He stands there lost in thought while I reach for Chloe’s backpack, unzipping it to see if there are any notes for parents or homework she might have overlooked. I pull out a stack of papers, going through them, before putting them back into her bag . . . when a plain letter-sized envelope catches my eye.
I pull it out. There’s no writing on the outside, so I open the closure and reach inside to pull out several black and white photos. I stare at them for several seconds in complete shock, my eyes not registering what I’m looking at until I see my own face staring back at me.
“Oh my God.” I drop them on the counter. “Oh my God!” I repeat, my voice shaky.
“What?” Alex snaps his head toward me, but I can’t take my eyes off of the stack of naked photos of myself. He reaches for the pictures, looking at them in horror. We both glance up toward the stairwell as the quick thumping of Chloe’s footsteps brings us back to the moment. He grabs the pictures, scooping them up and sliding them back into the envelope in one quick movement.
“Sweetie,” I say, walking over to her slowly, “where did you get that envelope in your backpack?”
“Envelope?” She scrunches up her face, then realization settles over her. “Oh no,” she says, almost dismayed, “I forgot to tell you that your friend gave it to me today at recess. I’m sorry I forgot.”
“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “Friend? What friend? What did he look like?” I try not to sound too panicked.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. He had sunglasses on and a hat. He said he knew you, and I know not to talk to strangers, but he knew my name and Alex’s name, too. He said you couldn’t meet him to grab the envelope for the case, so you told him to give it to me. Did I do something wrong?”
“No, sweetie,” I say, rubbing her arms. “Did—did you open it?”
