Page 94 of Regards, Mia

I'd come in here ready to cuss Jordan for letting this happen, but as soon as I see him, I know he's already told himself everything I'm about to say and worse.

He ends the call and shakes his head at me, looking forlorn. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Join me for a smoke?” he asks.

“I thought you quit.”

Jordan stands up and runs his hand through his hair, mussing it even more. “Come on. Let's go up on the roof.”

I never knew there was roof access from the top floor of the building, but I follow Jordan through the escape door and onto the tar roof where we stand at the edge looking out over the charming downtown of Mossy Oak. It's a gorgeous early spring day, with a slight chill that won't last another week. Snow is behind us, and spring is in the air. The dogwoods are blooming and cherry trees spread pink-blossomed branches over Main Street. In the distance, puffy clouds hang over the slabs of gray mountains cutting into the blue sky.

Jordan lights a cigarette and hands it to me, then lights another for himself.

“This is all my fault,” he says, exhaling a long stream of smoke into the air.

I take a drag off the cigarette, holding the smoke in my lungs as I consider my answer. Jordan's my boss. He runs this office with an iron fist. I don't want to get on his bad side. But he made a bad call, and we both know it. “How do you plan to fix it?”

He jabs a hand through his dark hair. “I can't believe this happened.”

I resist the urge to say I told you so. “How is Elena?” I ask.

“Lawyered up.” He takes a drag off his cigarette and flicks ashes over the roof. “She got Morris Birchland.”

“Morris Birchland?” He takes advantage of his clients, barely winning a case unless someone screws up on the other side of the aisle. “Fuck that. She needs someone better.”

“The cops had her this close to confession.” He holds his thumb and finger an inch apart, his cigarette dangling from his lips. “Then Morris Birchland shows up out of nowhere.”

My shoulders inch up to my ears. None of this should be happening. She wasn’t supposed to talk to Mattson until this week. I can’t help feeling it’s all my fault. “I need to see her.”

Jordan squints at me over the cloud of smoke. “What good would it do? She won't say anything to you.”

I scowl, turning all my inner anger on him. “Maybe I want to say something to her.”

“Don't look at me like that. It makes me feel like I'm less than human.”

I sigh and put out my cigarette. After an entire weekend of not smoking, it isn't as great as I remembered. And, hearing how hopeless Elena’s situation is makes me wish I had any other job in the world.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know all the details yet.”

“This is all my fault. I asked her to talk to Mattson.”

Jordan’s eyes narrow. “What?”

My chest pinches, and I can barely force out the words. “I thought if she confronted him and got it on tape, we would have a case.”

Jordan drops his cigarette and stamps it out under his shoe. “You didn’t tell her to gut him with a knife.”

“What if she didn’t do it? What if something else happened? Or it was self defense?”

“It was premeditated. Cold-blooded murder.”

Despite the chill in the air, I’m burning up with emotion. “Which could have been prevented if we would have done our jobs. If Mattson was behind bars, he wouldn't be dead, and Elena wouldn't be left without a future.”

“She killed him,” Jordan says, his eyes glassy as he stares off into the sky.

Below us, the townspeople of Mossy Oak enjoy a bright spring day. The cobblestone sidewalks are filled with window shoppers, and people wander into popular restaurants for a late lunch. I feel a million miles away from it all, observing through a cold, hard lens. The fact that some people are enjoying a late lunch at a sidewalk cafe while young girls like Elena are forced to take justice into their own hands because they were too unreliable to have a voice makes me want to scream.

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