Imperfect Justice

by Cara Putman

  Emilie paused. The repartee felt so good, and the thought of Reid meeting her dad seemed almost right.

  “When should I come over?”

  “Let me double-check Hayden’s schedule. She often has my cousin Andrew over for dinner, and I don’t want to crowd the kitchen.”

  “Text me.”

  “Will do.” As soon as she hung up she turned back to the photos. While there might not be a young man showing up in the posts, a couple girls showed up consistently. Emilie jotted down their names and then clicked to their profiles. Alaina Jotter looked like a typical, happy high school freshman. She was a cheerleader and active in the French club. Katie Trainer, on the other hand, didn’t look quite so outgoing. Her photos and comments revealed a more creative soul who might struggle with depression. Yet the three appeared inseparable in the images they posted.

  Emilie quickly compiled a list of information she hoped to learn when she contacted each girl.

  What had been Kaydence’s general emotional state the few weeks leading up to her murder?

  Had she discussed any home problems with her friends?

  If not, whom would she have shared such concerns with?

  Emilie’s family had been so stable and normal that it had been a sanctuary for Hayden on school breaks. It wasn’t until Emilie started working with families like Kaylene’s that she’d fully understood what a gift a loving mother and father and annoying siblings were. The interesting thing was that her family’s money hadn’t torn her parents apart as it did others. She’d seen money dissolve marriages when there wasn’t enough and when there was too much. Somehow her parents had achieved a balance where it was a tool and not a divisive force. Yes, it had blessed her with experiences and things like her townhome, but at the same time her parents had fully expected her to earn scholarships and have jobs in high school and college.

  It didn’t look like Kaydence had worked, so that limited the places Emilie could look for confidantes. She also didn’t see many photos of groups that could be a club or a youth group. Hopefully these two young women could open a window into what life had really been like at home for Kaydence and Kinley.

  Without that, Emilie’s chances of wresting custody from Kinley’s father plummeted.

  She couldn’t allow that. Not when Kaylene had worked so hard, if unsuccessfully, to leave.

  She quickly drafted messages to Alaina and Katie asking them to contact her. Her e-mail pinged just as she finished, and she opened the new message to find that Taylor had already completed Nadine’s protective order motion.

  Her assistant was simply too competent some days. It took only a few minutes to read the form and make sure the information was in the right places. Then she called Taylor and told her she could sign the motion for her and call Nadine to meet her at the court the next morning. They could file the motion with the judge and get the temporary order in place. That would make Rhoda happy and hopefully provide the beginnings of protection for Nadine and her son.

  The front door opened as she was getting off the phone call. Hayden walked in carrying some kind of spicy, over-the-top takeout along with her attaché case and purse. She kicked the door shut behind her and then dropped her bags on the empty chair opposite Emilie. Next she kicked off her heels and then leaned down to rub her foot.

  “Long day?”

  “You can say that.” Hayden stood up and raised the bag. “I got enough for both of us. Figured if your day was anything like mine, you didn’t have time to cook.”

  The thought of mixing ingredients into something surprising yet yummy pulled at Emilie, but she knew her limits. “I wish, but cooking is low on my list these days.”

  “Exactly.” Hayden took the bag to the kitchen bar. “I’ll dish it out once I change. I’m ready to get into the Macy’s version of what you’re wearing.”

  Emilie grinned at her. “I’ve offered to take you shopping.”

  “Yeah, but that requires a checkbook I don’t have yet.”

  A few minutes later Hayden was back down in shorts, a tee, and flip-flops. Then she prepared two plates with something Indian and some naan and gave one to Emilie before setting hers down. “Dig in.”

  Emilie savored a bite, then glanced at Hayden. “Reid Billings wanted to bring over some files that Kaylene left with him. Is there a night this week that would work on your end?”

  “Do I need to be here?”

  “No.” Emilie felt heat climb her neck and rued her fair skin that hid nothing. “But I didn’t want to step on an evening that you and Andrew have plans.”

  Hayden set down her fork and covered her mouth as she laughed so hard she snorted.

  “What?”

  “Emilie, anytime you need to use the house that you happen to own, just tell me. Even if we had plans, it’s easy enough to go out rather than bring food back here.”

  Emilie grinned as she realized the ridiculousness of her concern. “It’s your home too.”

  “I’m well aware of that, but don’t think I miss all the nights you stay in the basement when you should be up here.” Hayden tore a piece of naan and slid it through her dish. “You schedule things when it works best for you. We’ll flex. Just curious, though—why don’t you have him meet you at work?”

  “Not this time. Rhoda made it clear today I can’t do anything related to Kaylene’s case at work. She wants to pretend nothing happened, and Kaylene had nothing to do with the Haven.”

  “Okay. What does Reid want to do?”

  “Protect Kinley. Meaning take custody. To do that we have to meet, I have to research, and we have to do things like review those files.”

  “Is Kinley still in intensive care?”

  Emilie nodded. “There’s a lot we don’t understand, and I want to dig into the issue as hard as I can. Kaylene deserves that.” She tapped her pen on the pad. “But I can’t do that at the Haven. Kaylene is dead, so our attempts to help her are over. Rhoda assumes that Kinley’s fine with her dad.”

  “Even though you know Kaylene tried to flee.”

  “Yes.”

  It sounded so stark and cold, but she knew that was the position Rhoda had to take. She answered to so many people who had to continue to support the Haven, or they couldn’t help anyone at all.

  “So what do you need?”

  “A place to work.” She glanced around the small living area. “I could probably do it here.”

  Hayden’s face lit up, the look that telegraphed she’d had a brilliant idea. “What if you worked out of Daniels, McCarthy & Associates? You wouldn’t have to have him come here with the files.”

  But Emilie kind of liked the idea of having him back here, though she wasn’t ready to voice that, not even to Hayden. “I don’t want to work with you, Hayden.”

  Her friend waved her words off as if they were inconsequential. “I’m not worried about that. You know it’s perfect. Our office is less than a mile from yours. We have extra offices just sitting empty. And Leigh could help you if Taylor can’t. She complains I’m not keeping her busy enough.”

  “Maybe I should have Reid work with you.” It sounded like Hayden could still use more clients. That was one thing Emilie didn’t want . . . the scrape and scramble to keep new clients coming through the door. Anyone who said it was easy was crazy and way too extroverted. But she also didn’t want to give Reid to anyone else. This one was personal, even if hard.

  “No, you need to do this.” Conviction shone in Hayden’s eyes. “I’m busy, and you know . . . knew . . . Kaylene. You have the passion to fight this through. For me Reid would just be another client. This is one of those cases that takes someone 125 percent committed. I’ve had cases like that.” A shadow flicked across her face, and Emilie knew she was thinking about the Rodriguez family. “But this is yours. It must be handled well, and you’re the woman to do it. Let me help by providing work space.”

  “Thank you.” Emilie cleared her throat, fighting back the sudden lump lodged firmly inside. “I need to do thi
s. And I want to do this.”

  “Absolutely. You heard Savannah at the restaurant. She’ll be delighted. I’ll bring you a key tomorrow so you can come and go as you like.”

  Emilie breathed an inward sigh of relief. She didn’t want to admit it to Hayden, but Bella, the receptionist at the front desk of Savannah’s office, scared her more than a little. Her formidable presence could soften into immense warmth when she liked you, but Emilie wasn’t convinced she fell on that side of the equation. “Thank you.”

  Hayden grinned at her. “Welcome.”

  Emilie returned her friend’s smile. “Any grand ideas for proving Robert Adams was behind the shootings?”

  Hayden groaned and braced her hands on the counter. “Is that all you want?”

  “Yes. One bit of evidence that shows the world that Robert Adams wasn’t the perfect image he presented to the world.” She couldn’t rely on a 911 call that had yet to be posted. Detective Gaines had yet to return a call. And the video was bitter evidence. “I’ll get together with Reid as soon as possible to go through those files, but I can’t rely on their holding the magic bullet. Taylor is checking on the video.”

  “What about the person who took the video? Have you talked to them?”

  Emilie palmed her forehead. “It must be someone from the neighborhood.”

  “From the block.”

  “Probably a neighbor.”

  “One of them will have information.”

  “You’re right.” And now she had another excuse to spend time with the handsome and intriguing Reid.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sweat poured down his temples and through his shirt as Reid leaned over his exercise bike in his extra-bedroom-turned-man-cave and pedaled harder and harder. The stress of all he couldn’t control was supposed to melt away with the exercise, but the knot tightening his stomach refused to budge.

  He’d prayed and played the piano.

  He’d read the Word.

  He’d exercised.

  He’d read books and financial articles late into the previous night.

  None of his usual coping tools was making a dent. He’d spend another restless night if he couldn’t exhaust his body and mind. His left foot slipped from the pedal, and he leaned back and gulped oxygen.

  He’d invested millions of dollars for clients. He’d managed those dollars to stay ahead of a volatile market and its vagaries. None of that caused stress like this gut-level need to understand what had happened in Kaylene’s family. What had been going on that she hadn’t shared? And why hadn’t she?

  He was no longer a young kid who needed protection.

  He’d never thanked her for all the times she’d stood between him and an overstressed mother who couldn’t handle parenting on top of putting food on the table. By the time his mom dumped them with his grandparents, he’d been a little relieved. While he was never outright neglected, he understood all too well Brandon’s kids at Almost Home and their hunger for adults who saw them as they were and loved them anyway. Fortunately, he’d had a couple teachers who cast the vision for a different future and helped him see beyond his immediate situation. Some hard-earned scholarships and a lot of study later, he’d proven his way into an entry-level job at a prestigious New York City investment firm. He’d gladly transferred to the DC office five years later to be closer to Kaylene and her family, but by then they were strangers.

  He’d waited too long, and in the process failed her.

  When she’d needed someone, Kaylene hadn’t come to him. He wasn’t even convinced she’d fully gone to her attorney.

  He pulled the hand towel from the handlebars and swiped it across his forehead and around the back of his neck. Where could he start to get to know his sister and figure out what her life had been like? There were the files, but Emilie could look into those. There had to be an area that only he could explore.

  After a quick shower he went to his office and pulled a box from the top shelf of the closet. It was where he kept past years’ Christmas cards from key people throughout his life. Often the cards were filled with photos, and while he didn’t have a family of his own, he enjoyed vicariously living through his friends. At this point in time, it was better than walking the floor all night with a colicky kid.

  The cards in the box weren’t organized, so it took fifteen minutes to sort through them and find the handful from his sister. He arranged the cards chronologically, and it was like a flip-book, seeing his nieces grow from infants and toddlers to young ladies.

  He set the cards to the side and pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose. It shouldn’t be this hard to look at them, but it was a reminder of all he’d lost. That Kinley had lost. One day, hopefully soon, she’d comprehend the depths of it. What would that do to her?

  When he’d stuffed the emotions away, he pulled the cards back over and started reading Kaylene’s messages. They were mostly perfunctory holiday greetings, but a couple had longer handwritten messages. No matter how he parsed them, none indicated she needed help or had concerns. Instead, the words matched the happy family image he’d believed existed.

  He’d been wrong.

  And he was going to find out why. He set the photos on top of the boxes of files. He’d take those to Emilie too and get her read on them. Maybe she could intuit something in that special way women did. His phone dinged and he glanced at it.

  Bring the boxes over tomorrow night? Hayden said any time will work for her.

  He quickly typed a reply. Tomorrow works. Be there around seven?

  Perfect!

  For the first time since Kaylene had died, Reid felt the first inkling that maybe things would work out after all. That his life wasn’t destined to be a tragedy.

  Early the next morning Reid went through the motions of returning e-mails, monitoring the markets, and running a few ratios to test his gut on where to invest while his mind wondered what they’d find in Kaylene’s files. Then he listened in on an investors’ call with the CEO and CFO of a Fortune 100 company, making notes but not truly hearing anything. It was as if his brain knew what to do from a position of autopilot. He was present, he was working, but he wasn’t really engaged.

  At nine o’clock he moved to a coffee shop, hoping the change of venue would help. Common Grounds was a quaint little shop right off the main strip in Old Town Alexandria. It had an artsy vibe that usually motivated him to do some of his best work, but he was still flailing as he took his Americano to a small table.

  He was hunched over his laptop trying to force work when he heard a familiar voice.

  “White mocha cappuccino with skim, please.”

  When he glanced toward the order counter, his pulse paused for an instant before roaring to life. Standing at the counter in black slacks and a red blouse with a funky scarf draped around her shoulders was Emilie Wesley. She looked perfectly put together, her blonde hair coiled into a prim yet loose twist of some sort. She was all edgy, but with bright pops of color. Not the way he presumed an attorney would dress, based on those he’d known.

  But from the moment they’d met, she hadn’t been what he expected.

  She moved to the side and did something on her phone while she waited for her name to be called. She was self-contained like an island, then she glanced up and joked with the barista as if they were old friends.

  The woman intrigued him.

  She held herself separate. Alone.

  And it seemed it was by choice.

  He leaned forward, watching her carefully.

  The barista handed her the tall drink with a smile, and she said something back, the words too soft to catch. Then she turned and started slightly when she spotted him. Her eyes widened, and she took a step toward him, a slow smile forming on her face.

  He spoke first. “Hello.”

  He started to get up, but she motioned him to stay. She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

  “We’ve missed each other then. I
t’s one of my favorite coffee spots.” If he could figure out her regular time, he’d change his schedule to match hers.

  Emilie blew across the tiny opening in the lid, holding the to-go cup as if it would protect her from something. Surely not him. He’d done nothing to make her defensive. At least not that he could remember. He tried to make his expression more open and welcoming.

  She giggled, actually giggled, and then shook her head. “You don’t have to try so hard, Reid. I don’t think you’ll bite.”

  “Ah, good.” He paused, feeling a bit awkward. “Well then. What are you working on?” Drat. Wrong thing to ask. He didn’t need her thinking he was asking about his sister’s case.

  This time she burst out laughing. “I really make you uncomfortable, don’t I?” She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I don’t usually have that effect on people.”

  “That’s understandable.” Her eyebrow arched, and he began to backpedal. “What I meant is you give this aura of being above everything. Like a goddess or something.”

  “That is definitely not my life.”

  He suddenly realized that he was still sitting like a lout while she continued to stand. He quickly rose and half pulled out a chair. “Would you join me?”

  She studied him a moment, then she glanced at her watch. “I can for a few minutes.”

  Reid sank onto his chair and scooted his laptop and coffee to one side of the table to make more room for her. She sat on the edge of the chair and continued to hold her cup. What was a safe, neutral topic that would help him get to know her?

  “So tell me why you chose law school.”

  A ghost of a smile tweaked her lips. “I think it chose me.”

  He cocked his head, intrigued. “There’s a story here.”

  “I’ll share, but only if you tell me more of yours.”

  “Easy enough.” He settled back and crossed his feet, being careful to keep his legs out of her way. “Why law school?”

  “Because it was a way to magnify my voice and make people notice what I said.” There was a quiet conviction underlying her words. As if each was tied to a memory that remained in living color. She took a sip as she considered him, then continued. “Words are my superpower. When I use them, things happen and events change.”