CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lara’s fingers drummed against the ceramic mug, her eyes darting to the door every time it creaked open. The coffee shop buzzed with lunchtime chatter, but the hum of conversation only heightened her sense of disquiet. She took another jittery sip, feeling the warmth slide down her throat, failing to calm her frayed nerves.

Her friend, Gavin, leaned across the table, his voice animated as he recounted his latest foray into investigative journalism. "So there I was, in the mayor's office, and you wouldn't believe what I found—"

But Lara's mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of anxiety that seemed to tighten with each passing second. She was vaguely aware of Gavin’s lips moving, the enthusiastic gestures of his hands, but the words slipped past her like ghosts, intangible and distant.

"Hey." Gavin’s hand lightly touched hers, the sudden contact pulling her from the depths of her paranoia. "You're miles away. What's going on?"

She blinked, focusing on his concerned face, the crease between his eyebrows. "Sorry," she murmured, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just...a lot on my mind, I guess."

"Want to talk about it?" His tone was gentle, probing, and Lara hesitated. The secret she harbored lay heavy on her tongue, a truth that could undo her quiet life with the weight of its revelation. For a moment, she teetered on the brink of confession, the words clawing for escape.

Lara's fingers wrapped tighter around the ceramic mug, the heat seeping into her clammy palms. Across from her, Gavin was a steady presence, his journalist's mind always ticking, always analyzing. She envied that focus, that ability to compartmentalize—even now, as her own thoughts frayed and tangled like threads in the grasp of a storm.

"Can I tell you something?" she blurted, her voice a half whisper swallowed by the hum of the coffee shop. Her eyes darted to the door, the windows, the other patrons—anywhere but at Gavin's face.

"Of course," he said, setting down his cup with a soft clink. "You know you can tell me anything."

"It's just..." Lara hesitated, biting her lip. "I've been feeling paranoid since the news broke out about the murders. You've heard, right? The women killed—all worked in law. Two defense lawyers and a judge."

The words tumbled out, each one heightening the sense of dread that had taken root inside her. It clawed up her throat, constricting, choking. Gavin nodded. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice even further.

"Gavin, do you think I could be in trouble, too?"

His reaction was immediate, almost reflexive. Gavin shook his head, a short, sharp movement, and let out a breathy laugh tinged with disbelief. "Lara, come on. Why would you be a target? You're a secretary, not involved in cases directly, right? Besides, you haven't done anything to put yourself on someone's radar."

He reached across the table, his hand hovering in the air as if considering whether to cover hers. He seemed to think better of it and withdrew, scratching the stubble on his chin instead. "You're just spooked by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But you're safe, Lara. You haven't done anything bad, have you?"

His question, rhetorical as it might have been, stung like salt in an open wound. Lara forced a laugh, high-pitched and strained. "No, of course not." She met his eyes then, searching for some sign of doubt, some inkling that he suspected the truth. But there was only warmth, concern, and an unwavering trust that tightened the knot of guilt in her chest.

"See? There's nothing to worry about," Gavin continued, his voice firm and reassuring. "These things, they have a way of getting under your skin, making you see shadows where there are none. Stick to your routine, lay low, and this will all blow over soon enough. You'll see."

Lara's fingers trembled around the ceramic mug, the clinking of spoon against porcelain loud in her ears despite the hum of conversation that filled the coffee shop. She could feel Gavin's gaze on her, patient yet probing, as if he could peel back the layers of her facade with nothing but a look.

"I..." Lara started, voice barely above a whisper, "I haven't been completely honest." The words felt like stones in her mouth, heavy and hard.

"Okay," Gavin leaned forward, his own cup forgotten. His eyes were steady, a silent encouragement for her to continue.

She drew in a breath, feeling the weight of her confession crushing. "There was this case—a woman, um, ran over," she said, her voice gaining strength even as it wavered. "And I... I saw something. An attorney, meddling with the jury, trying to sway them for the accused."

Her admission hung between them, a delicate truth threatening to shatter at the slightest touch.

"Did you report it?" Gavin's question was gentle, not accusatory, but it stung all the same.

Lara shook her head, a solitary tear betraying her stoic front. "I turned away, pretended I didn’t see it." The guilt constricted around her throat, making each word a struggle. "But no one knows, right? It’s not like I was involved."

Gavin's smile crept across his face, slow and reassuring. "No one knows," he echoed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.