“What’cha think?” I asked, not daring at first to look him in the face, but as the silence grew, I couldn’t help but lift a cautious glance up to him. In that darkened room, the light of the monitor lit up his features in a strange, alien way. Too pale in places, too black with shadows in others—totally unreadable.
“It might work,” he finally mumbled, a hand reaching up to scratch at his chin. “But what about Lucy?”
“She’s innocent,” I said. “She really doesn’t know anything, right? They look into her, she’s clean.”
“Well, yes, eventually,” he said slowly. “But at first, she’ll look dirty. Even if she’s cleared, what about her reputation?”
I swallowed, trying to think through my words carefully.
“I can see that,” I started. “But it’s not like we’re throwing her to the wolves. These aren’t the KGB or FBI or something. Her friends know her. They’ll ask—maybe it will be uncomfortable—but they know her. And she really is innocent. I haven’t told her anything.”
“It’s a hard world,” he said suddenly, interrupting my ramblings. “It’s not fair. Even if she proves her innocence, she’ll always be suspected, won’t she? I don’t want her to have to live with…with…with my mistake. There’s got to be a better solution. We can’t just leave her holding the bag.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I sighed, knowing I had to make the point. “The only other option I see is—”
But he knew. He’d known for a while.
“We have to tell her,” he said.
Tale Told 