After My Murder I Returned

The Mentor Meeting

---

Chapter 9: The Mentor Meeting

Day 62 started with Jonah lying.

Nathan: Where are you?

Jonah: Library. Studying. Why?

Nathan: Because your location says Penn Quarter. Near Blue Bottle.

Jonah: ...

Jonah: okay fine

Jonah: I’m meeting him

Jonah: it’s just coffee

Jonah: I’ll record it like you said

Nathan was already in his car.

Nathan: Leave. Now.

Jonah: nate chill

Jonah: I’m a law student. I can handle coffee

Nathan: Jonah. He’s not a mentor. He’s a predator. Get out.

Three dots. Then nothing.

Nathan ran a red light.

---

Blue Bottle. Penn Quarter. 10:17 AM.

Nathan walked in and saw them immediately.

Douglas Rivers. Sixty-two. Silver hair, tailored suit, the kind of smile that had won boardrooms and ruined lives. Across from him, Jonah. Tense. Notebook open. Pen gripped like a weapon.

Nathan didn’t say anything. He just walked over and sat down.

Douglas didn’t flinch. “Nathan. Didn’t expect you.”

“Yeah, well,” Nathan said. “I’m full of surprises.”

Jonah looked between them. “Nate, I—”

“It’s fine,” Nathan said. “You’re done here.”

Douglas sipped his espresso. “Now, that’s not very polite. Jonah and I were just discussing his future. He’s bright. Georgetown Law. That’s my alma mater.”

“I know,” Nathan said. “You graduated in ’89. Barely. After three ethics violations.”

Douglas’s smile didn’t move. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I do that now.” Nathan looked at Jonah. “Go. I’ll call you later.”

Jonah hesitated. Then stood. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Rivers.”

He left. Fast.

Douglas watched him go. Then turned back to Nathan. “You’re protective. Like your father.”

“Don’t talk about my father.”

“Or what?” Douglas leaned forward. “You’ll buy more of my debt? Oh, wait. You already are. Eighty-seven percent, last I checked. Impressive.”

Nathan didn’t react. “Stay away from him. Stay away from my family.”

“Or what?” Douglas said again. Softer. “You’ll tell them the truth, Nathan? That you know me? That you’ve known me for years? How would you explain that?”

Nathan’s hands were flat on the table. Not fists. He’d learned.

“I don’t need to explain anything,” Nathan said. “I just need you to understand one thing.”

“Which is?”

“If you touch him, I’ll bury you. Legally. Financially. Completely. And I’ll enjoy it.”

Douglas studied him. Then he laughed. Quiet. “You really are different. Last time I saw you, you were crying in a parking garage.”

Nathan went still.

He doesn’t know. He can’t know.

Douglas stood. Dropped a twenty on the table. “Good chat. Give my best to Damien. Hope he’s feeling better.”

He walked out.

Nathan sat there for ten minutes. Hands shaking.

Then he called Jonah.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. He didn’t say anything weird. Just asked about school. Internships. Said he ‘likes to help young men find their path.’”

“He’s lying.”

“I know.” Jonah’s voice was shaky. “Nate... what did he mean about ‘last time he saw you’?”

Nathan closed his eyes. “Nothing. He’s bluffing.”

“...Okay. But Nate? Don’t go after him alone. Please.”

“I won’t.”

He was lying.

---

Day 64 was 2 AM.

Nathan couldn’t sleep. Again.

He ended up at GW Hospital. Not for Damien. For the cafeteria. It was open 24 hours. Bad coffee, worse lighting, but quiet.

He wasn’t the only one there.

Amber Evans was at a corner table. Scrubs. Hair down. Laptop open, but she was staring at the wall. Empty mug in front of her.

Nathan hesitated. Then walked over.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

She looked up. Blinked. “Nathan. What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gestured to the chair. “Can I?”

She shrugged. “It’s a free country. And a hospital cafeteria.”

He sat. “You too?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her eyes. “Patient coded at 1 AM. Twenty-four years old. OD. We got him back, but...” She shook her head. “Some nights stick.”

Nathan didn’t say anything. Just pushed his untouched coffee toward her.

She took it. Drank. “Thanks. This is terrible.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence. Not awkward. Just tired.

“Your dad,” she said eventually. “How’s he doing?”

“Better. He actually did his breathing exercises today. Without complaining.”

“Wow.” She almost smiled. “Progress.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence.

Then: “You call the therapist?”

Nathan looked at the table. “No.”

“Right.” She didn’t sound surprised. Just resigned. “Why not?”

“Because if I start talking, I’m not sure I’ll stop.”

Amber was quiet. Then: “That’s kind of the point.”

“I know.”

She closed her laptop. “Look. I’m not your doctor, Nathan. I’m not your friend. I’m just the ER doc who stitched your hand and told your dad he was being an idiot.”

“Accurate.”

“But,” she said, “if you ever do need to talk, and you don’t want to do therapy, the chapel’s open 24 hours. I fall asleep there sometimes too. When it’s bad.”

Nathan looked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She stood. Grabbed her mug. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t.”

She walked away.

Nathan sat there for a long time.

Strictly professional.

But it didn’t feel like it.

---

Day 67 was Sophia.

Nathan was at his apartment. Finally. Doing laundry. Eating takeout. Trying to be normal.

His phone rang. Sophia.

“Nathan,” she said. No hello. “We need to talk.”

His stomach dropped. “Okay. About what?”

“Come home. Now.”

He drove over. Damien was in the living room. Recliner. Tablet. Looking annoyed but healthy.

Sophia was in the kitchen. Holding something.

A Ziploc bag. Inside: shredded paper. Pieces of a photo. Red dress. Blonde hair.

Melanie.

Nathan stopped.

“Sit,” Sophia said.

He sat.

She set the bag on the table. “I was taking out your trash. Last week. When I dropped off soup. This was at the top.”

Nathan didn’t say anything.

“Who is she?” Sophia asked. Quiet. “Because Douglas Rivers’s stepdaughter was at the hospital. With flowers. For Damien. And now I find her picture, shredded, in your apartment. So. Who is she?”

Damien was watching now. Tablet down.

Nathan looked at the bag. Then at his mom.

“She’s no one,” he said. “She’s someone I knew. Before. And she’s dangerous.”

“Before what?” Sophia pressed.

Before I died.

“Before I got my head on straight,” Nathan said. “She’s part of the reason I was a mess. And Douglas is part of the reason she’s dangerous. That’s all I can say.”

Sophia was quiet. Then: “Does this have to do with why you’re buying his debt?”

Nathan’s head snapped up. “How did you—”

“I’m your mother,” she said. “And I’m not an idiot. Damien told me. After Hargrove.”

Damien nodded. “You’re making moves, Nathan. Big ones. And I want to know why.”

Nathan looked between them. His parents. Alive. Here. Asking.

“I can’t tell you,” he said. Rough. “Not yet. But I need you to trust me. Both of you. She’s not coming near this family. Not again. I swear.”

Sophia reached across the table. Took his hand.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, sweetheart. We trust you.”

Damien grunted. “But you’re telling us. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Nathan said.

It was a promise.

---

Day 70 ended with a text.

Amber: Dr. Chen said your dad’s EF is 55. That’s normal. He’s out of the woods.

Amber: Try to sleep tonight. That’s an order.

Amber: - Dr. Evans

Not Amber. Dr. Evans.

Professional.

Nathan smiled anyway.

Nathan: Copy that, Doc. Thanks.

He put the phone down.

For the first time in two lives, he thought he might actually sleep.

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