The fewer people who know about this, the better.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Depends how long it’ll take to finish building this case.”
“But you’ll be safe?” Dan asks. He already knows the FBI will provide us with protection. He already knows what some of the set-up will look like - probably an old community building abandoned in some city far away, where they’ll be able to keep us together so we can still get all of the witness statements and build the case.
There may be other people there from other court cases but not likely. We’d be about thirty people this time, all of the people helping to build the case. We would be well-protected, with surveillance and armed guards around the clock, looking to the outside world like we didn’t even exist.
Dan knows all of this, but he needs to hear it. I get that.
“We’ll be perfectly safe,” I say, and then I laugh. “Hey, at least I got to enjoy your birthday party last night!”
“Well, I’m glad for that!” Dan says. “But, it’d be great if you enjoyed the rest of the year here as well...”
“Don’t worry about it,” I joke. “I mean, I did drink all of your whiskey last night, so I owe you one. Want me to get you a bottle before I go?”
“Nah. Don’t worry about that,” Dan says. “Listen. You come back safely, then you buy me that bottle. Make that a promise and shake on it.”
Our eyes lock for a second, and in that breath, I can feel the eternity of our friendship weighing between us - meeting each other as children, helping each other out in high school, not just with studies but with career choices, shadowing one another through adventures, and the new adventure that I now couldn’t have and would never share with him. The one that I intended to have with his sister.
Time to let go of that. Time to move forward.
“I promise,” I answer, and we shake hands. I come around the desk, and I give him a rare hug. I don’t know if I’ll see Dan again. I hope I do.
It’s nice to know that at least one person will miss me, although I really hope he won’t be the only one.
7
Laura
The old woman decides, much to my dismay, to buy pretty much every genre of book in the bookstore, except for a good mystery - not even a thriller or a cozy mystery. She’s holding science fiction, fantasy, romance, horror - even an erotica book - but not one mystery.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in the latest from this author?” I offer kindly. She smiles at me. We have been chatting now for about an hour about recommendations in various genres. Broadening her horizons, she called it. I hope I’m this adventurous when I’m eighty.
“Oh, no, dearie. Mysteries, I’ve read a lot in my day. I want to try different things now. These books are different,” she pats the pile of books and then she winks at me, “very different in some cases.”
“Indeed, they are,” I reply with a smile. “So, when you were reading mysteries, who was your favorite author?” I ask, a stroke of inspiration.
“Oh. That one’s easy. Agatha Christie - I’ve read every single last one of her books multiple times. Every time she builds the suspense, and I’m still - I don’t know… how can you not love a book that always catches you a little bit by surprise, even after multiple readings. Now that was an author.”
“Indeed, she was,” I smile and wave her off. I mean I get that she loves Agatha Christie. I love Agatha Christie too, but it’s not what every modern reader wants. And, truth be told, it’s not quite what I want to be writing either. I mean, I want character depth, and I want a little bit of romance, and I want some legal intrigue.
Legal intrigue…that sounded so fun a few days ago while chatting and drinking on the couch with Chris. Then doing more than drinking - a lot more. A smile tugs at my lips, and I know that I’m growing red.
But I’m alone in the store, and I don’t care. Those memories are amazing.
Maybe that erotica section is what I should be focusing on, then. I look down at my cell phone. No new message from Chris. I debate what to do. I’ll be closing the store soon; we always close early on Tuesdays - practically dead downtown for book sales. But, that frees me up to head down to Dan’s office after work.
I mean, just drop by, say hello to my beloved brother, whom I haven’t seen since his birthday party. And then, maybe just say hi to Chris, if he happens to be there.
Not that I necessarily should even try. It’s not like he’s been returning my calls. No, of course not, it’s like he’s ghosting me.
No, I won’t think that of him. Not yet, anyways. Maybe something’s happened. He did say that he was working on a big case, and that he was about to get really busy. I can’t take things personally. Well, I can. In fact, it would be very easy to take them personally.
Share one passionate night in someone else’s study...
Ugh. I groan. I can’t believe I did that in my brother’s study. If he ever finds out! Well, he’ll never find out if I never speak to Chris again, now will he? I shelve a few books, arranging some back in order, filling the gaps left behind by the old woman’s many purchases. I sigh at the mystery section with the multiple types of beautiful fonts on the spines, enticing readers to pick them up and devour the words within.
I always stop, in kind of a little ritual, at the place where my book would be, were it published. Or accepted. Or just finished, for that matter. Right there, in the M’s. It’s a good spot in the bookstore. Many eyes would see it, halfway through the alphabet. Bookended by some other great authors. To make it even sweeter, I would do like Agatha, I would have more than one book. I would have multiple series, like most of these authors do here. I mean, what did they do, just write all the time? Thousands of books? I want a list of books so long that my readers can barely keep up. Yes, that’s definitely what I want. Of course, I seem to be having a hard time getting one done.
The writing poured out the day after I met Chris - that he inspired me is what has really pissed me off the most. He challenged me in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time. He listened to my story ideas and added to them, and, of course, there was his touch - sparks fly down my spine at the very thought of that.
Screw it.
Time to close up and go visit Dan’s office. It’s more than time to see Chris Heed again.
I’ve never actually been to my brother’s office. It’s very austere. As I walk in, the ceiling seems endlessly tall. Dark wood panelling lines the entire reception area, although it’s well-lit. A perfectly proper and prim lady sits behind the desk, hair coiffed back tightly, suit pressed to perfection. I’m still dressed in my work clothes - a jean skirt and a pink t-shirt. I smell like the coffee that I spilled on my skirt this morning. I’m not winning any fashion awards today, that’s for sure.
The receptionist looks up, to my surprise, she doesn’t seem like a snob at all. She smiles. It’s a beautiful smile, perfect, of course, as I’d expect.
“How may I help you?” she asks.
“Um, I’m here to see my brother, Dan Martin?”
“Oh. Of course. One moment please,” she picks up the phone and announces me. I look around the reception room. There are a few seats, all very comfortable-looking, and a small fountain in the corner. There’s a coffee machine for guests. It’s all very well-kept. A few people sit, and none of them look very rich.
I turn back to the receptionist. She’s caught my gaze. She gives me a smile and says in a quiet voice so that no one else can hear, “We do a lot of pro-bono cases here. Give back to the community.”
I smile back at her. Of course they do. Isn’t that what Chris was talking about? Working with people who needed help but couldn’t necessarily help themselves? Helping them to navigate the legal system that had been built on principles and endless fine print - often so difficult to understand that you needed a law degree just to protect yourself from the smallest of fines.
And my brother - I know my brother has some well-paying clients. I mean, he’s not poor
, but he helps here too. He doesn’t just go after rich clients. He helps the ones who are down on their luck too, who need help but can’t afford it.
By the time Dan steps out of the locked door in the back and smiles at me, I am feeling extremely proud, and I gather him into a big hug. He seems surprised but hugs back.
“Laura,” he asks. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, of course, it is,” I clear my throat. “Um, I just thought I’d visit. I’m in the neighborhood, after all.”
Dan looks down at me suspiciously, “You are in the neighborhood, but we’ve been working in the same neighborhood for years, Laura, and you’ve never just stopped by.”
“This is true,” I answer. “Hey, don’t sue me, I realized at the birthday party that you and I haven’t been spending enough quality sibling time together; I intend to change that.”
“Really?” Dan says, rolling his eyes, both amused and skeptical. Can’t say as I blame him - Dan can read me like a book. Probably not a very complicated book, either.
“Well, then, sister of mine,” he jests. “Would you like to start by seeing my office?”
“I really would, brother of mine,” I reply. He thanks the receptionist, who smiles at me, and we head inside.
If I thought the front looked austere, I certainly had no idea what to expect from the back. It’s a mix of both modern and classic, vintage furniture interspersed with modern computers and desktops, comfortable plush chairs, and marble accents. The entire area has been designed to be very open and full of light. Each office has a window of its own, giving to the corner of the building. The middle area has been kept as more of a reception and relaxation area, except in the direct middle, where the boardroom is located, surrounded by glass, which from what I can tell, can be shaded easily.
The whole space is absolutely gorgeous.
Dan laughs, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have not! Except perhaps the ghost of poor taste, because this place is awesome.”
He laughs again, “We do have pretty nice digs here. Here, come check this out.” He brings me over to a complicated looking coffee machine, with about ten levers, even more buttons, and several places to put the coffee into. I’m intimidated.
“Press this button,” he suggests.
I shake my head, “No way, uh uh… the last time you told me to press a button, I ended up making a giant mess at grandma’s house.”
“That was like twenty years ago,” he scoffs. “Go on, press the button. Prepare for some magic.”
“Alright, here goes nothing,” and I press the button. A porcelain cup is gently pushed out of the coffee machine, filled with a perfect and steaming cappuccino. I look at him. “Is this some kind of food replicator?”
“Hardly,” he laughs. “But it is almost magic and - oh my God, taste the coffee. It’s even better than magic.”
I take a quick inhaling whiff, but as soon as I smell the dark liquid my stomach turns. I should have eaten more for lunch, but I wasn’t very hungry then. Still, I take a sip.
“That is delicious,” I say. “Absolutely delicious. Where’s your office?” I look around, trying to distract him from the coffee cup.
“Oh yeah, this way,” he says, taking the bait. I leave the coffee there and follow him, my stomach calming as I put some distance between me and the cappuccino's rich scent. We step into his office, which is sparsely but very tastefully furnished. A bookshelf in the corner, two plush chairs in front of his desk. The desk itself is glass overlaying a rich wood grain beneath. There’s not a file in sight, only his laptop rests on the mesmerizing surface. He sits down behind the desk, and I sit in front of it.
“This is gorgeous,” I look out the window. The splendor of the office is matched by a breathtaking view.
“So, what’s the plan, then? Did you really come here just to visit me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is there another reason, perhaps?”
My cheeks flush red.
“I am a lawyer, you know,” he says, looking stern and serious. “I am trained to spot lies in my clients. And, more importantly,” he leans forward, gazes at me with piercing eyes, “I’m an older brother, I know a con when I see one.”
I can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. He grins and leans back.
“Seriously. Did you really just drop by to say hi?”
“I did, and I didn’t.” I’m trying to figure out how to word it exactly. I mean, Chris and I had agreed not to tell Dan that we’d hooked up. I guess I can tell him that we just chatted, and I’m kind of curious to see if there can be more, that makes sense.
Now to see if I can sell the lie.
“I was also wondering… I mean, I had a great chat with someone at your party,” I’m growing more red. Dan’s eyebrow is rising practically halfway up his forehead.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he asks.
“Your eyebrow. Stop it from going higher. I’m trying to ask you a question. It’s embarrassing, and I’d like you to make this easier for me.”
“Sorry,” he says, in all seriousness. But I can see the laughter dancing in his eyes still, as he lowers both his eyebrows and now frowns with them. I laugh again and lower my head into my hands.
“Okay, fine. I was chatting with Chris at your party, as you know, and I wanted to just say hello. Drop by. You know. No reason.”
“No reason…” Dan says thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t believe that would hold up in a court of law, ma’am.”
“Dan!” I practically shout at him, and then I lower my voice immediately, as the door is still open.
As if on cue, at that exact moment, John pops his head in.
“I thought I heard the voice of an angel here,” he says.
I lean back in my seat and try not to let my eyes roll back in my head. Dan sees the motion and hides his laughter.
“John,” Dan says, “I’ll catch up with you in a sec. Laura and I were just trying to sort out some important family business.”
“Sure. Of course. Don’t mean to disturb…” he replies, and then he pauses for a moment. I can feel his gaze on the back of my head. I will not turn around. I look straight at my brother.
“Good to see you again, Laura.”
I don’t like the way he says my name. I give a little wave his way, and hear the door close.
“Well, obviously not John,” Dan says, “which only shows me that you have good taste.”
“Was that in doubt?” I mutter, not having the strength in my voice to sound as incensed as I would like to.
“So…? If it’s not John, who is it? There are a lot of attractive available bachelors here. Really, they should make a show in this place - call it “Bachelor Lawyer” or something. It’d be great.”
“You’re insane. And, umm… it’s- it’s Chris,” I say softly. When he doesn’t answer right away, I look to him and repeat the name,“I said it was Chris.”
“Oh, Laura…” he scratches the top of his head, and I lean back into my seat.
“Is he married?” I have to choke out the words; I’m hurt. I can’t believe he would do that to me. But before I can spin totally out of control, my brother shakes his head.
“No, no. Nothing like that. He would definitely be on the show, but, oh Laura, he’s- he’s gone.”
“Gone?” The tips of my fingers and my toes are growing numb. Whatever color had flushed my cheeks earlier drained out of them, “What do you mean, gone?”
“He’s not gone anywhere bad…” he says again, protesting. “He’s just, he’s working this case, and- and I can’t really talk about it. But he’s not going to be in town for a few months, and he’s going to be incommunicado. It would be better…” he says, staring me in the eye, clipping each syllable to make sure that I catch them, “if nobody else knew about this, and that you didn’t mention him again.”
“I’m sorry?” I perk up. This sounds like the makings of a mystery novel, except these kinds of my
stery novels never end well. Somebody always ends up dead, and the other person trying to find out who killed them…Nope, this wasn’t the good kind of mystery novel - with two people going off together to try to solve crimes… That’s the kind I want. Not this kind, the absent kind, the missing kind…
“Look,” Dan stands up from his chair, comes around his desk, and sits on the chair beside me. He takes my hand in his. “Chris is a really good guy, but you should just forget about him for now, okay? Don’t mention him to anyone, and just… go about your day. I’ll let you know if - when he’s back in town.” He quickly catches himself when I look horrified. “Then you can reconnect with him. But in the meantime, it might be best to just let things lie.”
“I’m not good at letting things lie,” I tell my brother.
He sighs and squeezes my hand, “I know. But for me, for you, and especially for Chris, this is for the best.”
I look into Dan’s eyes and see no flicker of lie there. He looks worried for me, concerned as if Chris has gotten himself into something that my big brother really doesn’t want me near.
It’s not like I even know if Chris would want to hear from me, anyways. I mean, I don’t know. Chris left without telling me anything about it. He didn’t tell my brother at all about us or leave a note for me. So, maybe I’m not even part of his equation. Nope, I’m clearly not a part of whatever equation has dragged him away. Maybe this wasn’t worth getting my heart broken over.
“Do you want to go grab some supper?” Dan says, his voice kind. “I know a great steak place not too far from here.”
“That would be nice,” I say, and then my stomach turns. “But you know what? Maybe another night. I feel a bit under the weather. I think I’ll just curl up with a good book.”
“Alright,” Dan says. “But soon. Let’s have supper soon, okay?”
Forbidden Neighbor: A Contemporary Romance Boxset (Forbidden Saga Book 2) Page 33
