by Cara Putman
“Lilith . . .”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” She chuckled in her low voice—the one that made him wonder if she flirted with every man between twenty-five and forty or if he was just the lucky one. “Your dad really wants this.”
“You all really want it. Quite a coup to move up to a senator’s legislative director without changing staff.”
“Sure. But your dad has a vision. The congressman has a lot he wants to do that will be easier from a senate office.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“But he means it. You should ask him about his vision.”
“And four hours later he’ll come up for air.”
“Because he’s passionate.”
“Because he likes to hear himself talk.”
Her soft sigh reached him. “I challenge you to watch your dad work. Not everyone would meet with as many constituents. Or have focused discussions with thought leaders.” She paused. “He can make a real difference. You know how fractured the House is. Herding 435 representatives is worse than herding cats.”
“Who else is in the running?”
“There are rumbles of a couple contenders, but no one has officially jumped into the race.”
Andrew leaned against his Jeep and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Maybe if he made an appearance they’d leave him alone for a few weeks. He had no excuses waiting and ready. “Fine. Text me the details.”
“Great. Your dad will be thrilled. Get your suit out and keep your Rolodex handy, because you’ll need a date for this one.” She hung up as he started to sputter.
For a Sunday fund-raiser on less than a couple weeks’ notice? The campaign staff must be insane. That was all the prompting he needed to mentally make sure he stayed far away. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he climbed into the Jeep and headed home.
Fifteen minutes later he parked in front of his condo. End of May the swimming pool would open, but meanwhile the tennis courts beckoned. He’d bought the condo planning to use the court sandwiched between his condo and one behind it. He’d deceived himself. The closest he got was to eat a sandwich looking down on the court, or occasionally give Zeus fenced boundaries in which to expend energy chasing a ball.
The dog barked from behind the front door as Andrew entered the building and started upstairs to his condo. Before he could climb more than a couple stairs, Mrs. Bedford opened the door to her first-floor unit. “Andrew? Just who I wanted to see.”
She stepped into the entryway, and he came back downstairs.
“Anything I can do for you, Mrs. B?”
“I wanted you to know a man was poking around here today. He seemed very interested in you.” She pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “He wandered around the building awhile, but he was definitely focused on your unit.”
Andrew frowned. “What was he selling?”
“He said he was a satellite TV installer.” She let out a harrumph. “He left me his card. Said I could call his supervisor, but the number was out of service.”
“Do you still have the card?”
“Sure do. Let me get it.” She ducked into her condo and a minute later returned with a standard business card. Even the name was generic: Jake Smithfield.
“Let me check into it.”
“Thanks. He made me uncomfortable, so I decided to play along like I didn’t think there was a thing odd about his name.” Her indignant gray eyes met his over her glasses. “There may be someone out there named Jake Smithfield, but I’d bet one of my lemon pound cakes it isn’t him.”
Andrew nodded, his gut confirming her suspicions. “I’ll let you know what I learn.”
Zeus erupted with a string of short barks.
Mrs. Bedford laughed and shooed him toward the stairs. “Sounds like Zeus is ready for you.”
Andrew said good-bye, then turned the card over as he marched up the stairs. It was a white piece of cardstock with Jake Smithfield listed above a phone number and e-mail address. No other information. He’d call the number when he got inside, but he had a feeling the result would be a dead end.
He unlocked the condo door, and the Lab bounded toward him, acting as though it had been a decade since they’d been together.
“Come on, Zeus.” Andrew snatched the leash from its hook and tried to clip it on the dog’s collar while the beast pranced about his feet.
Andrew turned up his jacket collar as they walked down the street, Zeus pulling hard after each squirrel. The dog sometimes forgot he was supposed to be a staid seven-year-old, instead acting like a frisky puppy.
As Zeus finally slowed to a respectable walk, Andrew ran his mind over the preliminary sketches he’d drawn over the weekend. His best one for tomorrow’s eight a.m. deadline was the one with the two juxtaposed children. He had to finish the cartoon and e-mail it to his editor.
Oh, yeah. And find a date for his father’s fund-raiser. No small problem since he’d sworn off taking his mom’s suggestions. No, he wanted someone with substance. Someone who saw the problems in the world and wanted to make a real difference. And if she knew her way around Washington and wasn’t overwhelmed or enthralled by it, all the better.
He turned Zeus toward home. When he reentered his condo, he looked on the counter for the business card. It wasn’t waiting on the counter where he’d left it. He frowned as he shuffled the stacks of mail that had accumulated there. He bent down to look on the floor and found the card. A minute later he’d confirmed what Mrs. Bedford had told him. The number was a dead end.
Why would someone come to the condo and pretend to be a serviceman, complete with a fake business card? What had the guy been looking for?
CHAPTER 11
TUESDAY, APRIL 4
Hayden hauled her attaché case downstairs and dropped it on the bistro table. The night had passed with her tossing and turning, the photo of her client’s murdered son filling her dreams. The young man had made it to the States, fearful yet expectant. Through his mother’s words Hayden had sensed his purpose, that in coming he would make a new life and rejoin his family.
As she brewed a mug of tea, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing a key piece of his story.
Why would a young man take the coyote-led route when his mom and brother had already entered legally? If she could figure that out, maybe she’d gain insight into why he’d been murdered. Could it be drugs? Something he carried in his backpack? Neither fit, but if she could solve the why, it could lead to the who, which could give her client more closure.
Would she ever uncover the whole story? If she couldn’t get it from her client, she’d have to locate it another way. She needed a contact inside the State Department. Someone who could look into the right database and see if Miguel had tried to enter legally and, if so, why he’d been denied.
She dumped the remains of her tea in the sink and headed to work. When she entered the office lobby, Annette, the receptionist who was time-frozen in the fifties with Lucille Ball, handed her a slip of paper. “Mr. Randolph’s called down for you five times already.”
Hayden glanced at her watch. “It’s only eight thirty.”
“Sure, but Randolph wanted to see you at seven. I’d skedaddle.”
Hayden hurried up the stairs and through the warren of halls to her office. After dropping her briefcase, she grabbed a legal pad and pen and hurried toward Mr. Randolph’s office. She had entered his office maybe one other time in her four years at the firm, and that was when she’d served as a summer associate. The man lived in the world of research and appellate litigation. When a case reached his desk, he didn’t use more than a hand-selected number of associates, so why would he suddenly need her—and so urgently?
She passed Angela, who mouthed Everything okay?
Hayden shrugged. Until she saw Randolph she wouldn’t know.
She’d barely rapped on his door before he waved her in, one finger pointing at his phone. “Great. We’ll get th
at to you tomorrow.” He chuckled, but the look he sent Hayden was anything but humorous. “Thanks again.” He slammed the phone in its handset and then turned his dark gaze to her. “Have you forgotten anything, McCarthy?”
Hayden stood in front of his desk, wondering if she should sit down or dive behind the chair for cover. She stepped closer to his massive desk and met his gaze. If he wanted to hide behind his desk, fine. She wouldn’t let him know she was intimidated by his brusque behavior. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Discovery in the Martin matter was due this a.m. Carmen reminded me, and I just got off the phone with opposing counsel. We’ll get it to them tomorrow by close of business and then cut them some slack at a future date.”
“The Martin discovery?” Hayden’s mind raced to catch up.
“Yes. The multimillion-dollar breach-of-contract case. Lucky for you opposing counsel likes to golf at Queens Harbor. This week he’ll do it at my expense with a promised round to help matters along.”
She heard his words, but they still meant nothing to her. “I didn’t have that discovery.”
“I run the occasional trial when I’m bored. Lucky for you, this is one of those.” He waved a hand at her to sit. “You inherited the discovery the week before your trial. Promised you’d get it reviewed and ready. So get to it. Carmen has it set up.”
Hayden’s mouth opened and closed, but she didn’t know what to say. He’d never believe this was the first time she’d heard about the case. Plus, she was still struggling to imagine the detached partner engaged in the combat of a trial. He seemed better suited to the cerebral tasks of appellate work.
“That’s all.” He turned to his computer, not waiting for her to leave.
As Hayden walked out of his office, Carmen stood in the outer office and motioned to the door. The woman’s normal smile had disappeared, replaced by drawn eyebrows and a frown. Her long peasant skirt swished as she led Hayden to a conference room. “I’m sorry about this. He’s all worked up.”
“More than usual?”
“You could say that. He really should stick with appeals, but every other year or so he decides he’s a litigator. Drives him—and me—crazy.” She sighed, then forced a smile that didn’t match her usual easy grin. “I’m not sure why he’s pulling you in, but he insisted it was yours to fix. Sometimes all I can do is jump. Let me show you what I’ve done.”
Carmen swept into the large room. Chairs had been pushed away from the oval table and against the walls, and file boxes were stacked three deep over two-thirds of the table’s surface. Carmen tugged on the bottom of her shirt as she led the way to one stack. “If you start here and work your way around the table, you’ll be in good shape. The discovery request is in this folder.” She tapped an accordion file. “I’ve drafted a start for you. One of the wet-behind-the-ears associates took a stab at it. He’s so new, I wouldn’t rely on anything he did.”
Hayden nodded and rubbed the back of her neck where her muscles had tightened and tension radiated. “Can you give me the case in fifty words?”
“Even fewer. Classic breach of contract. The essence of this request is proof of damages.”
“So lots of numbers.”
“Yep. Have fun, and let me know what you want for lunch.”
“Thanks, Carmen.”
The woman left in a swish of fabric, and Hayden reached for the phone on a side table. “Angela, what are you doing?”
Hours later, Hayden felt like her eyes had permanently crossed and her hands had dried beyond saving, thanks to all the paper she’d touched and sorted.
Angela kicked back with her socked feet on the table, flipping through a stack of paper in her lap. “How did you suck me into this again?”
“Promise of a future favor in return.”
“I’ll make it a good one.” Angela eased her head from side to side, stretching her neck. “I thought we were beyond this duty.”
“So did I. I’m still not sure how I landed the final discovery review without being told.”
Carmen stuck her head in the door cautiously, as if afraid if she stepped in she’d get sucked into work. “Anything else y’all need before I leave?”
“Is it that time?” Hayden tapped her phone. “I don’t suppose you know where the discovery fairies disappeared to?”
“I’m looking at them.”
Angela laughed. “This fairy is ready to call it a night.”
“Don’t blame you.” Carmen turned her attention back to Hayden. “Randolph told me to have you put the responses on his desk for review first thing tomorrow morning.”
Hayden stood and arched her back. “That’s assuming I leave. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter in a while, but this looks like one.”
“If his door is shut, you can slide it underneath.”
Hayden looked at the boxes and snorted. “Sure. Thanks for your help. The discovery was better organized than I’d hoped.” If only it came with a CPA. Sometimes she wondered if she should have earned an MBA to go with her law degree just to decipher numbers.
Angela stood and stretched after Carmen left. “You should have made her order supper takeout.”
“We can have something delivered.” Hayden looked at the pile of boxes left from the Chinese food Carmen had brought them for lunch. Thanks to Angela’s help, she’d gotten through a good chunk of the review. And thanks to Carmen’s organizational skills it wasn’t as chaotic as some discovery messes. “You don’t have to stay.”
“And miss the opportunity to get paper cuts? Not a chance.” Her friend settled back into the chair she’d occupied all day. “We should have grabbed a couple others before they skipped the office.”
“I noticed people sliding past the door as fast as they could. Can’t blame them.”
Elliott & Johnson was not the largest firm in DC, but it was a boutique that prided itself on being the best. And that required the same commitment as the big firms demanded. As Hayden looked at the stack of boxes, she knew she’d have to work a long night if she was going to get this assignment finished in time to keep Randolph happy. Otherwise, she’d be fighting to stay gainfully employed.
CHAPTER 12
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 5
The stinging hot shower did little to wake Hayden. Her brain felt like mush. She’d walked home around five in the morning, but the discovery response waited in the conference room—it had been way too fat to slide under his door. A runner would make the copies while Carmen finalized the response to e-mail to the client for a signature that could be run back to the office and then filed. Hayden had met the artificial deadline, and now her stomach rebelled from the extra four mugs of coffee and her head pounded from the lack of sleep. If she lay down now, she wouldn’t get to work before afternoon. Maybe she’d earned a few bonus points, but not if Randolph wouldn’t admit she’d never had the assignment in the first place.
Twenty minutes after her quick shower she was downstairs brewing a cup of peppermint tea and nibbling on Nutella-doctored toast.
Emilie studied her from her post against the granite countertop. Her blond hair was perfectly coiffed, and her cranberry-colored suit looked tailored for her. Hayden felt like a thrown-together wreck next to her, even though she’d spent extra time hiding the circles under her eyes.
“Was that you who straggled in this morning?”
“Sorry about that. I tried to tiptoe.” Hayden stifled a yawn that felt like it would split her jaw.
Emilie handed her a mug of coffee and a bottle of mocha creamer. “This will help.”
“Thanks, but I’ll stick with tea today.” Hayden tried to think what filled that day’s calendar. She hoped it wouldn’t be anything challenging, because her neurons were firing on the slow side. The tea and an extra block on her walk to work would help. “I got the project done.”
“Good, I was just worried about you.” Emilie returned to her post by the door. “Have you heard anything from the detention center?”
“Not anything helpf
ul.” Move that to the top of the list now that Randolph would ignore her. Knowing her luck, Gerard would demand an update on Rodriguez. “I’ve got to find someone in ICE who can tell me about Miguel, because Snowden at the detention center wouldn’t even confirm he’d been there.” The secret was finding the right helpful bureaucrat, one who didn’t ask too many questions and provided lots of answers. The challenge was ICE was thick with the unhelpful sort. “Maybe a Texas agency would have the same information.”
“I haven’t found one. At least that will talk to me.”
Hayden turned to her roommate. “Emilie!”
“You couldn’t give me information on a case like this and not expect me to dig.” She met Hayden’s stare with a smile. “You knew I would.”
Hayden did know. And knowing Emilie was digging shouldn’t bother her, even if Miguel’s story was hers to tell. It wasn’t fodder for an investigative journalism piece. At least not before the complaint was filed. “Can you promise you won’t turn in an article until after I’ve filed the complaint?”
“I’ll try.” Emilie grabbed the kitchen rag and wiped down the spotless counter. “But I may have mentioned the concept to my editor. You know how he pushes for my next brilliant idea. Only Andrew understands how hard it is to generate fresh ideas every couple weeks.”
Hayden looked at her, totally confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. I didn’t say that.”
Hayden shrugged. “Whatever. But if you find out anything, let me know first, okay?”
“What I learn can help you. You know I’m good at digging.” Emilie said it as if she needed to convince herself. “Well, I have to get into the office. Put in the rest of my time for the week helping women.”
“You love it.”
“Most days.” A shadow darkened Emilie’s face. “It’s been one of those weeks with a particular client.”
“This the same one from Monday? Does she want to go back?”
“It is and no, but her boyfriend is everywhere. He was not happy with me at the protective order hearing Monday.” She shimmied her shoulders as if shaking off the thought. “He’s not the first and won’t be the last.” An alarm beeped, and she tossed the rag back into the sink. “See you tonight. I’m meeting a client in half an hour.”
