by Cara Putman
It was gutsy, but leaving the case where it was and letting justice take its time wouldn’t serve her client’s interests.
She tapped the call button on her phone. “Leigh, can you see if Gerard is available? Thank you.”
As she waited, she gathered her thoughts in a quick outline. If he agreed with her analysis, then she’d justified his faith in her. This plan involved thinking way outside the typical legal boxes, but still fit squarely within the rules—but only if she filed the dismissal before the government answered. Timing was critical.
She jotted another note, and Gerard walked into her office without knocking. “You need to talk?”
Hayden looked up and quickly tried to cover her surprise at his appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and his usual GQ perfection missing.
“I’ve discovered a way to refile this case and start discovery.”
Gerard studied her a moment, then nodded. “Glad to hear it. Let’s take this outside.”
“It won’t take that long.”
He nodded his head toward the doorway and then pivoted back to the hallway. “Fresh air will do you good, McCarthy.”
Mystified, Hayden grabbed her suit jacket from the hook behind her door and followed him downstairs and out the front door. He led the way onto the sidewalk along King Street, not speaking. After they’d walked a block, he slowed his pace and glanced at her. “What have you got?”
She launched into her idea. “So if we voluntarily dismiss the case,” she concluded, “we reserve the right to refile . . . and that allows us to change courts. At the same time I can file to take key depositions in anticipation of pending litigation.”
Gerard kept moving as he considered her plan. While it looked as though he was ignoring her, Hayden knew his brain was chugging through the options she’d presented and running a decision tree of possible outcomes. If he liked her recommendation, she’d know it was solid.
He turned onto a side street and kept walking.
“Is everything all right, Gerard?”
He snorted. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because you’ve never taken me outside for a meeting no matter how beautiful the weather.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” He stopped and turned to face her. “This case is different, Hayden. Something is at play I haven’t figured out.” His intense gaze bored through her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted it, but it seemed the right choice.”
“Should we dismiss the case and stop?” She forced the tremor from her voice. “Is that what you want me to do? You can explain to Mrs. Rodriguez.”
Gerard looked across the street, but she knew he didn’t see the row of historic townhomes or the cars rattling down the brick roads.
His chin lifted and he balled his hands before turning to meet her gaze. “File the dismissal today. Take care of it before the government answers. Then take the deposition of the director of the facility. You can ask for a tour, too, but I doubt you’ll get it. Style it as a request for entry of the premises for the purpose of photographing the location of the death. The government will object, but get it done.”
“Yes sir.”
He studied her a moment, and she fought the instinct to squirm like a child called to the principal’s office. “All right.”
“Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No.”
As they walked back to the office, Hayden knew she couldn’t believe Gerard. Something certainly worried him about this case. The problem was she had no idea what.
The moment she marched into her office, Hayden grabbed Leigh. “We’ve got a priority pleading to file in Texas tonight.”
“We’ve only got hours until the courts close.”
“Then we’d better get to work.” Hayden filled Leigh in on the plan, and as the paralegal searched for a Notice of Dismissal form, Hayden located the name of the director of the juvenile detention facility.
A couple clicks and she’d identified the man and his short bio.
Carlton Snowden had spent twenty years in the Marines before entering the police business. He’d risen steadily through the ranks in his home state of Texas, and eventually landed in charge of a facility that had been hastily opened to handle the flood of unaccompanied kids and teens at the border.
Hayden took a deep breath and dialed the facility’s number.
On the second ring someone picked up. “Snowden.”
Hayden gulped. He wasn’t supposed to answer. “My name is Hayden McCarthy, and I represent the mother of a young man who died in your facility.”
Stone-cold silence met her statement. She let it build until she wondered if he’d hung up.
“Says who?”
“A letter my client received from ICE.”
“I can neither deny nor confirm anything she may or may not have learned from Immigration and Customs. Your inquiry should proceed with the legal department.”
“I hoped you could confirm this young man was indeed in your facility. If there’s been a mistake, I don’t want to waste your time.” Or mine.
“His name.” The man paused, and she heard the swish of a liquid. “If he isn’t in our records, I can confirm that.”
“Thank you.” It was a start. “He was seventeen-year-old Miguel Rodriguez. A Mexican caught north of the border in your great state.”
She heard the click of keys and remained quiet as she waited.
“He may have been here. Rodriguez is a common name. I recommend you proceed through the legal office.”
Clearly she wasn’t going to get anything more from Mr. Snowden. “Thank you for your time.” She hung up as Leigh walked into her office.
“I’ve got the Notice of Dismissal.” Leigh handed her a slim folder. “Do you want me to start the new complaint?”
Hayden shook her head as she opened the file and scanned the document. “We’ll file this and get discovery moving first.”
Fifteen minutes later she called the paralegal back. “This looks great. I noted a couple changes, and then it’s ready for my signature. Thanks for handling this so quickly.”
Leigh grinned. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks. I’ll have this back in a minute and file it electronically.”
As Hayden glanced at her computer’s clock, she realized they’d made her self-imposed deadline. Now what? How could she convince the government to cooperate? Maybe her mentor could help her unravel the best way to proceed.
She picked up her phone and called Savannah Daniels. “Have time for coffee?”
CHAPTER 9
Thirty minutes later Hayden crossed King Street on her way to meet Savannah at Common Grounds. A lot of people were enjoying the sunny spring day, so why did she have this creepy sense someone followed her? As she passed a dress shop with a large window, she glanced back. Her step hitched as she squinted to see if someone was really there or her imagination was being overactive. Gerard’s behavior was rubbing off on her. Finally she arrived at the coffee shop ready to grab a cup of tea and brainstorm.
A comfortably plump woman with a welcoming smile waved at her from a small table in the corner of the coffee shop. She held up a mug and plate of pie. “I’ve got your tea and sweet.”
Hayden smiled as she headed toward her friend. The woman had mentored Hayden from her earliest days at George Mason and understood Hayden at a deep level. Savannah often provided the sound voice of wisdom and experience when Hayden couldn’t find it on her own.
As she reached the table, Savannah stood and wrapped her in a quick hug. “What’s it been? Two months?”
“Try three.”
“Three months too long, considering we’ve scheduled coffee every two weeks. Tell me what’s going on.” Savannah propped her elbow on the table and her chin on her palm, giving Hayden her full attention.
Hayden settled into her chair and smiled at her friend. This was a woman with whom she wanted to be transparent, because she valued Savannah’s carefully earned wisdom and ins
ight. In addition to serving as adjunct faculty at George Mason Law School, Savannah had a thriving practice of her own making. She’d defined success on her own terms and wore it like a cloak, one that surrounded her without weighing her down.
Her warm eyes studied Hayden. “I’m waiting.” She reached over and touched Hayden’s hand where it rested on the table. “You’ve got something on your mind.”
Hayden glanced around to make sure nobody was close. “I’ve got a new case.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes, but . . . it’s odd.”
“Odd how?”
“The client is the mother of a young man killed while in a US juvenile detention center. He was an illegal immigrant, but she isn’t.”
Savannah listened with an open and curious expression as Hayden filled her in.
“Gerard likes the strategy I developed.” Hayden sighed, trying to identify what was bothering her. “There’s something about his behavior today that has me feeling paranoid. He hinted at trouble with the other partners. I’m beginning to wonder what I’ve landed in.”
“You’ve only had the case since Friday. Maybe his caution isn’t about you—or maybe not even about the case. He can’t be concerned about the job you’ll do, since he advocated so strongly for you to have it.”
That’s what puzzled Hayden. “I guess we’ll see. What do you think about the pre-complaint deposition?”
“It’s always a risk, but in this case sounds warranted. Time is important. Remember the world isn’t perfect and you won’t get everything you want in one deposition. You can always do notice pleading with basic facts to get the case moving.”
“I need to get to Texas quickly. But you know the government will delay.”
Savannah nodded. “So ask the judge for expedited discovery. What can it hurt?”
“I don’t have a judge.” Hayden crossed her arms on the table and sighed. “I need to get into the facility first and learn what I can.”
“Surely there’s a congressional inquiry of some sort going on with the detention facilities. Get attached to that somehow. Then you have an official reason to visit.”
Hayden toyed with the thought as she blew on her tea. “I don’t know. If that came out during the suit, it wouldn’t look good.”
“Who could go for you to find the information?”
“Maybe Emilie. She could go as a journalist and put her investigative skills to work.”
Savannah cocked her head. “That could work. Emilie would probably think it’s fun.”
“And if it leads to a good story, she’d learn all she could.”
“She is persuasive. Remember that moot court competition . . .”
The women shared a chuckle. Emilie had always been more interested in looking the part and sounding good than arguing the law. In the one required competition she entered, she’d created a few facts and convinced the moot court judges she knew the case better than they did. It was only in the semifinal round that a judge called her bluff. To this day there was an Emilie Wesley Moot Court Award for Most Creative Argument. Most of the time Emilie smiled when she gave the award, though she’d been conveniently out of town during last fall’s competition.
“I’ll ask her if she can take a quick trip.” The more Hayden thought about it, the more she could see Emilie sliding right into the role and having a great time with it. Then Hayden would know exactly what she needed to uncover.
She and Savannah chatted a few minutes longer, finished their tea, and said their good-byes.
Time to see if she could talk Emilie into wearing her investigative hat.
Laughter greeted Hayden as she opened the door to her townhome.
“No. That’s too soon.” The authoritative male voice didn’t belong to her roommate.
“Hayden, come in and tell Andrew I’m right.” That voice did.
Hayden found the cousins on either side of the kitchen counter, its surface covered with a calendar and legal pads. “What are you two doing?”
“I’m telling Andrew how to make his street fair a success, and he’s not listening.” Emilie crossed her arms and stared daggers at her cousin.
Andrew, looking crisp and unfazed in his button-down with sleeves rolled up, said, “There’s more than one way to plan an event.”
“Sure.” Emilie pointed at him. “Just because he’s attended his dad’s fund-raisers, he’s decided he’s an expert.”
Hayden laughed. “Maybe Andrew has some ideas too.”
Andrew grinned at her and then waggled his eyebrows at Emilie. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”
“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Hayden held her hands up in front of her. “I’m Switzerland. And I just got here.”
“I guarantee I know more than someone who’s never even planned a birthday party.” Emily tipped her nose up. “Besides, I’ve already done half the work.”
“Hey, don’t forget that surprise party I planned for you.”
“That wasn’t a surprise, and it was ten years ago.”
“Aw, Emilie.” Hayden shook her head at her roommate’s intensity. “Andrew looks competent to handle an event planned for kids.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, but his grin was genuine. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Hayden. You don’t do my job on a daily basis without learning how to corral kids.”
Emilie tossed a legal pad toward Hayden. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him. Fine, I’ll leave you two to make a go of it. I’ve got an article to write and a motion for a protective order to review before the morning.”
Hayden’s brow furrowed. “Emilie, we’re just kidding. Are you okay?”
“Fine. Had a dandy afternoon keeping a client from being killed by her ex.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this right now. My plans are on that pad if you care to use them.”
Emilie headed downstairs to her suite, and Hayden turned on Andrew. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.” He stacked the legal pads. “I’ll call her after she’s had a chance to cool down. There are many things I don’t understand in the world, and one of them is how Emilie Wesley swings between strong emotions so quickly.”
“It only happens when she cares deeply.”
“She’s right!” came a voice from downstairs.
Andrew grinned—that model-perfect, mega-watt grin Hayden had seen in magazines. She forced her thoughts back to the event. “So . . . tell me what you’ve got so far.”
“Sure.” Andrew leaned into the counter. “I have space in my neighborhood. I’ve talked to vendors and volunteer organizations. It just kills Emilie that I didn’t need her to tell me every step.”
The voice from below floated up again. “That’s not true. You need my sparkling wit and attention to detail.”
Andrew’s gaze collided with Hayden’s, and his spontaneous laughter had her breath catching in her chest. The laugh spread to all three, and Hayden wondered at the pull she felt to him despite who he was. The guy couldn’t help it that he was handsome. Or rich. Or the son of a congressman. His affection for his cousin and his zeal for his work were genuine. Could she have misjudged him? As his lips tipped in a slow smile, she hoped she had.
CHAPTER 10
Something shifted in the air, and Andrew settled back, forcing his grin to stay in place. He had tolerated the playboy image propagated by the press because it kept his parents at bay. His dad wanted him married so campaign materials could showcase the perfect family. His mother insisted it was past time for a grandchild or three. But for the first time, in Hayden he’d met a woman who made him want to show her he was different from the society page coverage. But as he couldn’t tear his gaze away, he realized she had the potential to affect his life deeply.
Did he want that?
Part of him screamed yes. He was ready to settle down with someone who wanted to share his life.
And yet, another voice inside his head argued . . . intriguing as the beautiful young atto
rney might be, it didn’t change the fact that she was an attorney—which meant made from the same mold as his father. Not the type to settle down and build a family. If she did, would she be available to her family or would the law steal her away?
His phone vibrated in his pocket, jerking him from the odd connection zinging between them. He pulled out the phone and scanned the number. His father’s chief of staff. He sighed, grabbed Emilie’s notes, stuffed them in his bag. “I’ve gotta take this call. Tell Emilie I’ll call her later.”
“I heard.” The voice from downstairs floated up.
Andrew grinned as he turned to the door. “Thanks, Emilie,” he called. “See you later, Hayden.”
His smile slid from his face the moment he stepped outside.
Dan Washburn had been his father’s right-hand man for fifteen years. The man looked like Archie Bunker from the old TV show, with the ability to turn on charm one second and snarl the next. Woe to the man who got the snarl.
Andrew took the call. “Washburn.”
“Actually, this is Lilith Cleaver.” The congressman’s legislative director, point person for policy. The impetus behind many of the man’s votes he couldn’t focus on when there were more pressing duties like kissing babies and glad-handing donors. She had an elegant Audrey Hepburn throw-back grace that didn’t quite match the mood on Capitol Hill most days, a look only marred by the Marilyn Monroe red lips she favored. Perfect for a caricature.
“Sorry about that.” He walked to where he’d parked his red Jeep Cherokee. “What can I do for you?”
“Dan wants you to attend a fund-raiser a week from Sunday. You need to be there and help present the unified front voters expect.”
