by M. S. Parker
The door swung open, hot and cold chills dancing all over me and I squeezed my eyes, battling back the most intense wave of nausea I’d felt since my first day in court. When I looked at the door, prepared to see Bethany, all the adrenaline drained out in a wave that left me feeling even sicker.
It wasn’t her.
“Pierce.” I stared at the man in the doorway with a mix of shock and relief. Next to me, I felt Arik relax as well.
Head cocked slightly, the other man studied us silently for a moment before stepping into the room. I opened my mouth to say something, but Arik laid a hand on my arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Pierce turned toward the door but instead of shutting it, he nodded and curiosity overrode everything else I was feeling. An older, slightly stooped gentlemen walked in. The man gave both Arik and me a long hard study as Pierce closed the door.
What the hell was going on here?
“The coffee shop across the street would have worked just as well if you needed air,” the old man said.
His eyes, sharp and dark, glinted against smooth brown skin. If it wasn’t for the pure white hair on his head, and the slight stoop to his shoulders, he could have passed for a much younger man. He came toward me, moving slowly and flicked a glance at Arik.
Without even needing to look at each other, we both stood. I didn't know about him, but I wasn't feeling comfortable dealing with what was going on from a sitting position.
“You.” The older man pointed at me. “You have been a pain in the ass from day one, Ms. Monroe.”
I blinked, unsure if it was an insult or if I should take it as an unintended compliment.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Pierce opening a glass-fronted cabinet, but I didn’t turn to look at him.
“Just how have I been a pain...?” The rest of the question died as Pierce came back to join us.
“We need to leave,” he said to the older man. “She’s left her apartment. I'm not sure if she's going to come in today or not, but she’s made some calls.”
Before I could speculate on whatever the hell this meant, the older man gestured to a door. “We really should talk, Ms. Monroe. I assure you, you’ll be interested in what I have to tell you, and I believe you’ll want to hear it too. But this isn’t the ideal place.”
“Are you suggesting a coffee shop?” Arik asked, his voice biting.
“If you wish.”
***
Sitting on a bench in Central Park, I sipped at my coffee while Pierce took his turn talking. The other man looked like he was more caught up in the antics of the kids playing by the Balto statue, but I wasn’t fooled.
His name was Washington Rule. He was with the state attorney general’s office and apparently, they'd been investigating Bethany for a while now. And Pierce was their inside man. When they'd caught wind of the job opening, they'd pulled some strings to get Pierce in as well.
Washington had also told me he had a feeling his office wasn’t the only one looking into her, and if I was as smart as he thought, I’d listen to him, because he would go to bat for me when things went down. Not if but when. I didn’t want to be implicated in her fuck-ups – his words exactly. And he was right about that.
Once Pierce stopped talking, I looked at him. It might've been a bit juvenile, but I had to know. “Is it standard practice to sleep with people you’re investigating?”
He smirked at me, lifting his coffee to his lips, but he didn’t answer. Apparently, his smug attitude wasn't just a cover. He looked over at Washington, one eyebrow cocked as if to ask, Shall I answer or do you want this one?
Washington sighed deeply, leaning forward slightly and pressing the tips of steepled hands to his lips.
“Ms. Monroe. Let me say that we’ve tried any number of times to get close to Ms. McDermott, and she always manages to keep her cards close to her chest, so to speak. We've tried dozens of times, and she always manages to keep one step ahead of us. So when we had the opportunity to put somebody in her office, and she started to…well…” Washington slid his gaze toward Pierce. “It wasn’t exactly what we would have wanted, but I can’t say it caught any of us off guard, either. As I said, we've been watching her for some time.”
The lawyer in me had to ask. “And what are you going to do when she brings up their relationship in court?”
“It won’t be brought up.” Pierce shrugged and looked away, whether it was embarrassment or just boredom, I didn't know. “Chances are, Bethany won’t ever go to court.”
I stiffened, immediately understanding what he meant. “Are you telling me that she’s jerking people around, abusing her office and you’re going to make a deal with her?”
Washington’s eyes narrowed, but it was more speculative than aggressive. “That's the way the system works, Miss Monroe. You use the smaller fish to get to the bigger ones. With the evidence we have on her now, she’s not going to risk this going to court, because she’s not going to risk her acquaintances thinking she's going to balk on the stand. As soon as she's arrested, they'll be worrying she might become a liability. Once we lay all our cards on the table, she’ll be begging for protective custody in the most secure facility we have. And that’s assuming we can bring charges before any other agency can. Believe me when I say that her liaisons with Mr. Lawton are nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Rising, I moved over to the edge of the path, staring at the playing children who had so captured Washington’s interest a few moments earlier. Arms crossed over my middle, I blew out a breath. Arik had been quiet through all of this, but I'd gotten the impression it was because he was letting me take the lead since it was my boss we were discussing. He was definitely interested in what we were saying.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked finally. “It seems to me that your investigation is going fine the way it is. Why come to me?”
There was a terse moment of silence, followed by a single name.
“Leayna Mance.”
Surprised, I looked back at Washington.
“What about her?” That came from Arik. He’d been mostly silent through all of this, but now, as he rose from the bench, I turned to look at him. His jaw was tight and his eyes hard.
Washington looked at me rather than Arik even as he answered the question, “The death of Mr. Mance and the arrest of his wife piqued our interest as we'd been aware of him as something of a player in the Russian mob.”
“So you decided to use the case as a way to see where Bethany's loyalties lay?”
“You are quite intelligent, Miss Monroe. I'm sure you would've figured the entire thing out, given a bit more time.” He rose and came toward me. “I've had a man going in and out of her office for months, listening, doing odd jobs for her.”
It hit me then. “Planting bugs?” I asked.
Washington nodded. “Yes. The flowers were part of the investigation.”
“You bugged her office.” Arik sounded as pissed as I felt.
“I did.” Washington lifted his chin. “I also had my man warn her, as best he could.”
Shit. I suddenly realized who the other inside man had been. Someone who Bethany could order around, but also not see if she didn't need something.
“The janitor. He's the one planting the bugs. He moved everything into my new office.” I frowned. “You call that trying to warn me? Could he have been more cryptic?”
“We do what we can.” Washington shrugged. “I also had him make some minor adjustments on your phone line, ones that conflicted with the adjustments her people had already made. Since you made most of your calls on your cellphone, she didn't get suspicious when she wasn't getting much from your office line.”
As much as I loathed the idea that the state attorney's office had been listening to my calls, I also understood that having Bethany listening would've been much worse. “Thank you.”
“I don’t want thanks.” Washington's voice was hard, but not harsh. “I want you to do your job. You seem to ca
re about justice, truth, making sure the right person pays for the crime.”
“I do,” I said, wondering where he was going with this.
“Good.” His expression hardened. “Because I have work for you to do.”
Chapter 7
Dena
Nerves jittered inside me as I waited in the outer office for Eugene Hurst.
The DA.
Bethany's boss. And, technically, my boss too.
Washington had assured me that Mr. Hurst was a good, solid district attorney, and he was the person I needed to speak with. I had a stack of evidence, both what I'd figured out and what Washington and Pierce had collected, and I needed Mr. Hurst to see it before Leayna Mance went to court this afternoon.
When I'd asked Washington why he hadn't just taken things to Mr. Hurst himself, he'd told me that his office was trying to keep things quiet. He knew if he made an appointment to see the DA, word would get back to Bethany and she would know that someone was on to her. If I went, however, it would just look like a newbie ADA trying to kiss up to the boss.
I was just worried that Mr. Hurst wouldn't believe me. I’d been assured that Washington's sources would be in touch with Mr. Hurst shortly to confirm everything I was saying, but I was the one who needed to convince the DA that one of his office’s attorneys was operating with some pretty shady personnel and it was imperative that he intervene.
We could've gone to the judge in Leayna's trial to try to get Bethany's motions thrown out, or even delayed, but Washington had informed us that things ran deeper than just Bethany. He had evidence to support that even the judge was involved with the mafia.
So we needed a power player.
Not too many had more power than Hurst when it came to legal hardball. His trial record was among the most impressive in the country, and he'd never been afraid to take on anyone, regardless of who they were. We needed him to handle Leayna's case, as well as making sure Bethany didn't suspect anything. We also needed someone to support Arik's protection request for Leayna.
My stomach had been a mess all weekend, and not even the call from Officer Dunne yesterday saying that the mysterious call I'd received on Friday had been a hoax – some teenagers had been paid a hundred bucks to prank me – had been able to make me feel any less anxious. And it wasn't because I suspected it'd been some of Bethany's friends behind the call. I didn't really care about that.
No, the reason for my nausea and insomnia was simple.
Too much depended on me.
The door opened and a tall, thin man appeared. He looked at me, his lips pursed thoughtfully. After a moment, he beckoned to me and I rose, clutching my bag tightly.
My phone rang and I didn't have to look at it to know who it was.
Bethany.
I hadn't called in sick or given her any sort of indication that I wasn't coming in today. Pierce wasn’t there either, and I doubted he'd given her reasons either.
Chances were she was getting pissed, but better pissed than suspicious. And I was pretty sure that a pissed Bethany was someone who made mistakes. Mistakes that could only help at this point.
I’d have to answer her soon, but I wanted to introduce myself first. When the phone buzzed again on my way to the doorway, I grimaced.
“No rest for the weary, Ms. Monroe.”
I managed a strained smile. “I thought that was the wicked.”
He gave me an amused look. “Well, sometimes the wicked get more rest than they let on, the bastards.”
I was pretty sure I was going to like this guy.
He stepped aside and let me enter before shutting the door behind me.
When my phone buzzed again, I gave him an apologetic look. “It’s my supervisor. I need to let her know I’m running behind. A quick text, if it's okay.”
“Of course, of course. Coffee?”
While the Manhattan DA actually got me coffee, I sent a text that was all lies and sunshine.
Problem on my train in the subway. Be there soon as possible.
I had just sent it off when Mr. Hurst put the coffee down at my elbow.
I'd just lifted the coffee to my lips when Bethany responded. I blanched at her foul reply and almost managed to choke and scald myself at the same time. I barely kept from swearing, but I couldn't stop myself from dropping the phone. Mr. Hurst picked it up, and I could tell by his gaze that he’d read the text, although he said nothing, simply put my phone face-down on the table where he’d placed my coffee.
Then he sat down – not behind the monolithic desk – but in the chair next to mine.
“So just what is it that has you…caught up on the subway, Ms. Monroe?”
His tone was no nonsense, but not judgmental. I felt a stab of hope. Maybe he truly was the real deal.
Lowering my coffee, I started to reach for the bag that held all the evidence I’d been asked to give him, but then I paused and turned toward him. “Do you believe that everybody is guilty? That nobody is innocent, and if you have the bad luck to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, then you just have to pay the piper?”
He didn’t look taken aback by the question. On the contrary, he settled more comfortably in his chair and studied me. One finger tapped his lips while his gaze held mine.
I felt like he was dissecting me, the way he watched me, like he was trying to figure out what made me tick. I didn’t let myself look away, though. I had the feeling the next few minutes would make or break things. Not only my career, but also the freedom and lives of everyone connected to this thing. I couldn't let them down.
“If that was how I felt, then I wouldn’t – or at least I shouldn’t – be sitting here in this office. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Monroe?”
Blowing out a hard, shaking breath, I smiled a real smile. One of the bands constricting my chest fell away. There was still a lot to do, but I felt better about my chances of convincing him.
“I do agree, sir.” I reached into the bag at my feet. The phone on the table rang, but I ignored it.
“Is that your supervisor again?” Mr. Hurst asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t look at the phone, or at him.
“Is there a reason you’re dodging her?”
Focusing on the files and the disc in my hands, I nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I’m afraid there is.” Now, I did look at him. “My supervisor, she tends to think that way. She wants a win, regardless of a defendant's guilt or innocence. It's not about the truth, or justice. That’s not the kind of law I want to practice.”
He nodded and gestured toward his desk. I put the files down and took a deep breath. He was going to listen, which meant the rest was up to me.
I started with what I'd done myself.
Over the next hour, as my phone rang repeatedly, and the texts began to come almost on the end of each other, Eugene Hurst and I went over the evidence I’d compiled regarding Leayna Mance. Then we went over the data on her husband, the late Mr. Mance and just how deeply in debt he’d been. When I reached the data showing when he’d come out of debt, Mr. Hurst rose to refill our coffees and I paused to rest my voice.
“I take it you presented all of this to Ms. McDermott.”
“Yes.”
He came back to me and sat down, holding out the coffee. I accepted, but didn’t drink. I was already jittery from nerves, plus the caffeine I'd previously consumed.
“What did your boss say when you presented her with all of this?”
“It depended on the information.” I tried not to frown. I couldn't let any of this be personal. It had to be all about the facts. “But it pretty much added up to the same thing. I was told to concentrate my efforts elsewhere, or look deeper because there had to be something else that fit our case better.” I hesitated for a moment, then gave a specific example. “There was a break-in at Ms. Mance’s penthouse, and when I had nothing to report, Ms. McDermott gave me the impression that I should have made something up.”
At that, his graying brows shot up. “And you're certain you
didn't misunderstand her?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
He shook his head as he looked down at everything I'd spread across his desk. “This is to go before a judge today, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” My phone went off again and I resisted the urge to throw it against the wall.
His eyes flicked to it and I had the odd feeling he wanted to do the same thing. He reached over and picked up his phone.
I listened as he called his administrative assistant in, and over the next five minutes, I sat, an enthralled audience of one as the two of them successfully managed to pull Leayna’s case from the docket.
“Reason, sir?” his assistant asked, her eyes competent and focused. She never once looked at me, her attention focused solely on him.
I didn't mind. It was clear it wasn't a slight to me, but rather just her doing her job.
“A last minute change in council.” He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes skimmed one of the files in front of him. “I’m taking over the case personally, and as I haven’t had a chance to review all the evidence, I’ll be unable to be there this afternoon.” He paused and then looked up at her. “If Judge Engler has a problem with that, have her contact me directly.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned to another page, putting the one he’d been reading facedown. “That should be all for now, Ms. Holcomb.”
“Yes, sir.” She turned to go.
“Oh, if by chance Ms. McDermott calls, I’m indisposed.” The look he gave her over the edge of his glasses was hard, the sort of look that had gotten him his reputation as one of the toughest DA's in the country. “I’ll be able to talk to her soon, but not today.”
Once we were alone, he blew out a breath and looked at me, a wry expression on his face. “I expect I’ll be talking to Bethany McDermott a great deal more than I wish in the days to come.”
Unfortunately, I was pretty sure he was right.
