Page 98 of The Tomorrows After You
Here Iwasagain. Sitting in my car in the library parking lot, the powerful sunsinkingto the valley. Nowhere to go. No story to betold.
Whathadbeenthe point of these past few weeks? Iwasback where Istartedand the humiliating realization that I didn’t care about any of ithitme like a bus. I didn’t care about the story, the research, the drugs, the trial, the investments. I didn’t care that I had nothing to give Melody. That it likely meant the end of my whirlwind career. I didn’t care about any of it.
None of it.
All of it came back to Riot.
Ididn’t understand how they could have that recording. As I flipped through the possibilities, my phone rang. My mother’s face flashed across the screen. She’d be alarmed if I told her what was going on but I couldn’t think of anything that would give me a shred of solace, if not my mother.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What’s wrong?” I had tried to make my voice sound even, but she knew me too well, and that somehow made me feel worse. A cracked sob escaped my throat. I rested my head on the steering wheel, too exhausted to hold it up anymore.
When Imanagedto get a hold of myself, Iswallowed.“Ihurtsomeone I really care about, Mom. And I don’t thinkI’llever be able to make it right. I justgotsowrappedup in this case with the church and the drugs and the mines… I neverstoppedto be honest and now it’s too late to make it right with him.”
“Honey, I’m sorry. Iknewsomething was wrong when I never got that video you promised.”
Waves of realization hit me like a rainstorm. I had been taking a video to send to my mom the night Riot told me the truth. But I’d been interrupted when Brennan came in. Had I not paused the recording? I remember folding my laptop down but maybe I never closed it.Fuck, it had recorded the whole goddamn night.
I cringed, realizing that itwasmy fault that the recording existed. Everything in me deflated. The profound sea of sadness pulled me under, its weight pushing the air from my lungs.
“It’s all my fault, Mom. And now the people I care about could be in a lot of trouble. AndI’mnot sure Ihaveenough to stop it.”
“Nicolette, is what you’re doing dangerous?”
“I don’t think so,” I lied.
“Okay, you said you don’tthinkyou have enough. That means you have something?”
“I do,”Iofferedweakly,pointingmy gaze to the seat next to me where the printed photos and filessat.
“Well, honey. When it’s too late to make it rightwithsomeone, the only thing you can do to bring closure to abrokenheartisto do rightbythat someone.”
I was quiet for a long moment.
“Ilovedhim, Mom.”The past tenseforceda hot tear to roll down my cheek,fallinginto the corner of my lips where I could taste Riot’s salty heartbreak.
“Then do right by him, Nicolette.”My momlistenedto me breathe for a minute before sheperkedup.“What on earthwereyou checking out with the mines?”
Ishookmy head like she could see it.“Itwasmore about the company that manages them now.They’rean investor in this drug trial.”
“Bizarre that anyone still manages those mines.”
My heart skipped a little. “Why is that?”
“Those mines were going dark twenty years ago when we first moved to Godot. There’s definitely no coal left in them by now.”
It was dark by the time I reached the other side of town where the Godot Valley Coal Mine was located. Whatever I was missing had to be in those mines.
The dark pictures on Grace’s phoneflashedbefore my eyes. I neverthoughtin a million years that her death could somehow beconnectedto all this but after the autopsy photos and the voicemail, the piecesbegantobecomeclearer, like a magic eye image coming into focus.
The entrance to the Valley came into view. A thought pressed on my brain and I scanned the decrepit houses until I spotted a rusting bicycle on someone’s front lawn.
Isnatchedit up, promising to buy the kid a new one once thiswasall over. Itstuckout of my trunk but Iwasn’tfar from the mine, now. Iparkedmy car almost a mile away so that if anyone did pass by, it wouldlook like Iwasvisitingthe Valley houses. Irodethe bike the rest of the way there.
I passed by the locked-down airfield on the other side and a pang of guilt hit me.
It’s still your fault, Nicolette! Somehow youareat the center of all of this either way!
