Page 80 of Small Sacrifices

Telling her he didn’t realize might actually help right now, but Reid can’t find the right words among his jumbled thoughts. Marisol, ever focused, is already on to the next subject.

"I want to talk to you, though," she says. "Not now—I was supposed to be gone before you arrived, and I'd rather he didn't know you saw me. But can we meet up after work?"

There are so many things in those few words that Reid wants to ask about. Why was she supposed to leave before he arrived? Can't they maybe meet tomorrow? He knows, though, that as much as he wants to see Everett, this is more important.

"Yes, sure!" he says.

"Great!" And then Marisol is on her way, her heels click-clacking on the cement floor.

Reid can only stare after her numbly. It's a good thing that she doesn't look back. His face feels slack. He doesn't even want to know what emotion he could be projecting.

Whatever effort he makes to straighten himself up before he turns around to look at Officer McNaulty, it's not enough. The moment she sees his face, she snorts. And then, she apologizes.

"God, that poor girl. I knew the man was difficult, but I didn't know it was that bad." She massages her temples with furrowed brows. It's strange seeing her like this. Every other time he's seen her, she's been extremely put together and looked quite energetic.

He makes an affirmative noise to keep from revealing any possibly incriminating knowledge. But then, when he tries to unclip his carabiner to show her his ID, the glint of a badge catches his eye. It's affixed to her belt, half covered up by her blazer. It sends a little shock through him, this reminder that the woman who just witnessed Marisol's outburst is an officer of the law.

"Are you going to tell anyone about this?" he asks before he's even really thought about it.

"Tell who about what?"

There's a sharpness to her voice that almost cuts. Reid digs his fingernails into the flesh of his palm to distract himself from the sting of her anger and breathes deeply. He just needs to explain himself better.

"Is this something you will report to your supervisor? The last time I talked to Marisol about this, she didn't want to tell anyone." Not that her reasoning applies anymore, Reid thinks. "Just... she'd probably want to know if someone's going to want to talk to her about this."

Officer McNaulty squints at him. But after a bit more cajoling, she takes Marisol's phone number from him and promises to call her first before she does anything.

On his way to the office, he tries to order his thoughts and breathe calmly. It doesn’t work. Anger suffuses his mind like a heavy fog.How dare he?First, Mr. Wright harasses Marisoland now, he just discards her without ever having to take accountability for his actions? Is that really what’s going to happen?

It takes a while for Reid to get himself back under control. By that time, he has another question: What now? Marisol was the last positive thing about this job. How is he going to get through his days if he can’t even see her friendly face anymore?And how is he going to live with himself, knowing he didn’t speak up?

He’s so preoccupied with thinking about this that he jumps about a foot into the air when someone behind him asks, "Excuse me, but do you know where I can find Marisol Contreras? She said to meet her here."

It's the voice of Clarice Coleman, soft but serious. Reid turns around with a hand on his galloping heart. She's standing next to the door of their office, as if she'd entered it and just leaned back against the wall to wait when she saw no one was here. As always, she looks effortlessly elegant. Today's silk scarf is crinkly and a deep teal, beautifully contrasting with the slim braids swishing just past her shoulders. Reid doesn't know what to tell her.

"Have you talked to Mr. Wright yet?" he asks.

She doesn't even have to say her answer out loud—the startled confusion on her face is clear. That gives him hope.

"If I understand correctly, she was just let go."

"What, why? What happened?"

Reid bites down on a smile. Not"What did she do?"No immediate accusation. That has to be good. Still, he doesn't want to say too much. If Mr. Wright was worried about Reid even seeing Marisol leave the building as he entered it, Reid doesn't want to hear him speculate about Marisol's dismissal if he were to enter the room right now.

"I don't know what I'm allowed to tell you."

Those words edge Ms. Coleman’s expression from slight confusion into downright alarm."Allowedto tell me? What do you mean?"

Reid's throat clicks as he swallows. But they're still alone, so he continues. "I signed an NDA. I'm not sure what I'm allowed to say."

"Mr. Maxwell, I'm not a journalist. I'm not a friend you're gossiping to. I'm a member of this administration. If you signed the standard NDA that everyone signs, then there is nothing that happens as part of your job that you are not allowed to tell me."

The eye contact she makes is so intense that Reid immediately wants to turn away from it. But this is too important to be brushed aside just because she thinks he's being evasive, so he clenches his jaw and maintains it.

All of this would be so much easier if he could speak openly. But in this environment, that doesn't feel safe. He takes what he hopes is an inconspicuous step forward, lowers his voice, and gives her the bare bones.

"Ever since we found proof that the governor might have known something about the contamination at the school, Mr. Wright has been making things uncomfortable for Ms. Contreras. I believe he let her go so she couldn't file a complaint."

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