“Do not ask what he saw. Do not say anything about his father.” “I said I won’t.” Nicole looked at her hard. “I mean it.”
Michelle’s expression softened. “I know. He is not a witness. He is a five-year-old who found a purse.” That sentence became a rule.
Isaiah left with Michelle before lunch under the impression that he had won a surprise cousin sleepover. Nicole packed his blue backpack herself, added his stuffed shark, and made sure his inhaler was in the side pocket. She hugged him too long at the door. “Mom,” he complained, squirming. “I can’t breathe.”
She loosened her arms and kissed his cheek. “Have fun.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “Is Dad in trouble?”
Nicole forced her face to remain calm. “Dad and I have grown-up things to talk about.” “Because of the purse?” She crouched again. “You didn’t do anything wrong by finding it.”
“I know.” He frowned. “But is the lady in trouble?” Michelle and Nicole exchanged a look.
“Go get in the car,” Nicole said gently. “Auntie has snacks.” Snacks defeated moral inquiry for the moment.
After the car pulled away, Nicole returned to the kitchen. Adrian had moved everything from Tessa’s purse into a neat row as if order might make the items less incriminating. The cream blazer lay folded over the back of a chair. The sunglasses sat beside it. In another life, the scene would have looked like the aftermath of a rushed morning. Now every object had become evidence.
“Call her,” Nicole said. Adrian looked up. “What?” “Call Tessa.” “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”