by Cara Putman
The work el jefe sent made no sense. Now he had hurt a woman who had done no wrong other than leaving. Who would el jefe send after him when he broke free?
He checked the time on his cell.
He stilled as an officer on a bike rode past. Now he must move. He would have time to get to the building and inside before the officer came back on his predictable cycle. He grabbed his bag of tools and slid from the car.
It only took a minute to get his key card to communicate with the alarm system. Then he was in. The question was where to start. Almost fifty attorneys worked in the building. He just had to find the right offices.
El jefe had sent him on a hunt in which he couldn’t succeed.
He straightened and took the stairs. It wouldn’t matter if there were video cameras or surveillance. He was invisible in all the ways that mattered.
CHAPTER 24
MONDAY, APRIL 10
Hayden waited for Emilie, listening to the sound of a suitcase thumping up the basement stairs. “Did I give you enough information?” Now that it was time to drive Emilie to Reagan National, Hayden wanted to call her off.
Emilie flipped her blond hair and shrugged. “I’m prepared, thanks to you. It’s a simple matter of asking questions.” She tugged her bag through the kitchen and to the door, and paused. “You coming or should I call a cab?”
Hayden grabbed her keys. “Come on.”
After dropping Emilie off, she returned to their town house and then walked to the office.
Starbucks and Common Grounds were open, but the downtown streets were otherwise quiet. She reached the office before the receptionist, and flipped on lights as she headed down the hall. The shadows made odd shapes, and she quickened her steps even as she told herself to quit being ridiculous.
Hayden reached her office, opened her door, and froze. Papers and files were stacked in orderly piles on her desk, nothing like the chaos she had left Friday. It looked like some kind of cleaning fairy had come and organized. Leigh knew better than to mess with her piles. It hadn’t taken more than two of the paralegal’s macro-organization bursts for Hayden to tell her it wouldn’t work. Hayden was a piler.
She eased into her small office, setting her attaché bag and purse on the floor beside her desk.
If she called security, nobody would believe someone had been in her office. Yet she knew it was true. And whoever it was hadn’t even tried to disguise it.
She eased onto her chair and tugged her cell phone from her jacket pocket. After she took several photos, Hayden gingerly reached for her computer and jiggled the mouse. Her computer spun to life. Could she determine if someone unauthorized had accessed her files?
Her log-on screen appeared as it should, but her password didn’t work. She called the IT office, but before anyone answered, Gerard burst into her office.
She looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.” His face was a mask of anger. “Look at this.” He stormed from her office and Hayden hurried to follow.
Gerard led her to his office and stopped in the doorway. Papers were tossed across the entire floor. Files upended. It looked like a tornado had whirled through.
“What on earth—?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” His nostrils flared and he thrust his hands on his hips. “You have some explaining to do.”
Hayden tore her gaze from the mess to stare at him. The partner had lost his mind. “Me? Why would I do this?”
“Clearly you needed something.” He waved a hand over the mess. “Did you find it? If you wanted the backpack back, why didn’t you just ask?”
“Find what? And I didn’t know you had the backpack.” Hayden was more confused than ever. “Did Leigh bring it to you?”
“Yes.” His curt word communicated more than an essay.
“Gerard, if I needed something, I’d ask. Send an e-mail. Knock on your door. There’s no reason I’d do this. And by the way, someone searched my office too.”
“Your office did not look like this.” He crossed his arms and stared her down.
“Exactly. You know how mine usually looks. It’s considerably neater than I left it Friday. Were any other offices searched?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” His jaw worked as he studied her. “Who else would want the Rodriguez file?”
“You already gave it to me.” The accordion file had been in her possession since he gave it to her more than a week earlier. Is that what whoever had searched her office had sought? Or was it the backpack? “I wasn’t in the office this weekend, so I don’t know. I helped get Maricel Rodriguez’s son settled after she was attacked.”
“What?”
“Somebody attacked her in her home, and she’s still in the hospital.” Hayden frowned. “Gerard, is there anything about her you aren’t sharing?”
“No.” His answer was too short, too prompt.
“How did she find us in the first place?”
“She was referred by Randolph’s former client.”
Gerard didn’t make eye contact as he said it.
“If you weren’t here, can you explain what this is doing here?” He plucked a large letter opener from the desk. Plated in faux gold, it was shaped like a sword with Hayden’s name engraved on the side. It had been a gag gift from her grandmother when she graduated from law school, to save her fingers from paper cuts when opening the million letters she’d receive.
“I have no idea.” Hayden reached for the tool, but he held it out of reach. “It’s a letter opener, Gerard. Maybe whoever searched my office grabbed it and left it here.” Had the invader wanted to frame her?
Gerard ground his teeth together and surveyed the wreck. “He must have decided I needed a reminder.” He gave a hard nod, then refocused on her. “Why were you helping Jorge, anyway?”
Hayden noted his use of the young man’s name. “Maricel was attacked at home.” She grimaced at the memory of the woman’s battered condition. “Jorge is staying with a friend of mine while she recovers. He witnessed the attack and needs time to adjust and realize he’s safe.”
She took another glance at the floor. If someone had come in looking for something in a Rodriguez file she hadn’t been told about, maybe she should help clean up the mess. And if there was another file he hadn’t given her maybe she’d find it. “Would you like help?”
She crouched as far as her pencil skirt allowed, but Gerard stopped her.
“Get back to work. I’ll have Carmen take care of this.” She glanced up and met his hard gaze. “I’m taking a chance, McCarthy. Do not make me regret this decision. Stay away from my office unless I’m here.”
She murmured, “Yes sir.” Then she stood and fled his office. As she passed Leigh’s desk, she paused. “Do you know where the Rodriguez backpack is?”
Leigh looked up from her computer screen, reading glasses still resting on her nose. “It’s in the evidence storage room until Mrs. Rodriguez picks it up. She hasn’t returned my call.”
“Thank you.” So whoever broke in hadn’t gotten the backpack. Or had they? “Can you confirm it’s there?”
Leigh’s eyebrows knit together, but she nodded. “IT changed your password, by the way. Here’s the new one.” She handed Hayden a Post-it note.
“Thanks.” Settled at her desk, Hayden stared at her computer screen, but all she could hear was Gerard accusing her of destroying his office. What a horrendous mess of paper—a snapshot of that scene would be a poster child for paperless offices.
Was Gerard right? Had someone broken into their offices to get access to information about Miguel’s case? If so, she needed to reexpose the lawsuit to light. Then whoever had broken in would have no need to commit B&E, because they could learn everything Hayden knew through discovery.
She opened the complaint again and scanned it.
A young man arrives in the United States.
He’s detained north of the border, and because he’s a minor traveling without an adult, he’s sent to the j
uvenile detention center.
Three weeks later he’s murdered.
Surely he had planned to connect with his mother and brother. Or had he dreamed of starting completely on his own? Maybe he just needed to escape whatever had prevented him from coming legally.
She paused.
If he was as intelligent as Maricel thought, he should have journeyed on a student visa. What had kept him from applying for and receiving one? Immigration law was not her expertise. But she knew people who stayed up to date on the niche.
She picked up her phone and called Ciara Turner. Her friend had been a couple years ahead of her at George Mason and a mentor as Hayden navigated the troubled waters of the first year. Ciara could help her understand the immigration system.
“Hey, girl. This is Hayden.” After a couple minutes of enthusiastic small talk, Hayden launched into her questions. “I’ve got a situation involving a client. I need to better understand visas and what could prevent a smart kid from getting one to study.”
“That’s a complicated issue. Do you want to grab a quick lunch? Say at 11:45? We should beat the crowds and find a quiet corner to talk.”
Hayden double-checked her calendar, then agreed. “I’ll meet you at La Madeline. Thanks.”
As soon as she hung up she reread the legal section in the complaint. The Claims Court judge just needed enough to become curious about what she’d do with the case. She wanted the judge to understand this was a case about a young man whose American dream was cut short when he was murdered in US detention. She’d never make an argument about whether an informal contract existed between the government and the detainees if she couldn’t convince the judge this young man’s story mattered.
She didn’t mind taking risky cases, but she liked believing she had a stronger than 50 percent chance of success at trial. Here she wasn’t sure she could get past the answer stage. Not without the early deposition and a couple lucky breaks.
Hayden leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes and searched for some kind of direction. Lord, does this make sense?
Some people might not believe God cared about one case for a young man who couldn’t even be helped by the outcome. Hayden chose to believe it mattered. If the God of the universe couldn’t be bothered by what happened to one young man who died an unseen death, how could she matter? Either everyone mattered or nobody did.
It was that cut and dried.
It was in the process of uncovering the heart of a person’s story that a case came to life.
As she thought about the Rodriguez case, she understood a mother’s heartbreak, but so many other pieces of Miguel’s story remained missing. Why was he murdered? Who was behind it? Did Miguel have something the murderer wanted? Was that something still in his backpack?
It couldn’t be a coincidence that the break-in occurred right after the backpack arrived.
CHAPTER 25
When Hayden reached La Madeline, Ciara was waiting at a quiet table in the corner with a bowl of soup and bottle of water in front of her. No one sat near enough to overhear their conversation, making it an ideal location. Ciara waved, her bright-pink suit barely concealing the bump rounding her stomach. Hayden ordered her food and then joined Ciara at the table.
Hayden couldn’t hide her smile. “How many more weeks?”
“Seven.” The sigh that accompanied the word made it sound like seven years.
“Really? You aren’t as big as a barn.” She grinned at her friend as color flooded Ciara’s cheeks.
“I feel like I am.” Ciara shifted uncomfortably and then rubbed her belly. “I’m glad the first five months are behind me. It’s nice to actually like the smell of food again.” She made a face and set a napkin over her stomach. “So what’s the immigration issue that has you in knots? How can I help?”
Looked like most in the shop were grabbing their lunches to go. “A client’s child was killed while detained in a government facility. His mother and younger brother immigrated on visas, but the older son travelled illegally. Why couldn’t he get a visa too?”
“Did he live with his mom?”
“His father had the marriage annulled. In the settlement, Dad kept the older boy.”
Ciara stirred her soup. “It happens, especially south of the border.”
Hayden nodded. “He was from Mexico.” She leaned forward. “Here’s what bothers me. From everything his mom tells me, he’s the kind of kid who could have come on an educational visa and possibly worked his way into a green card.”
“Instead he walks across the border.”
“As far as I can tell.”
Ciara blew on a spoonful of soup and then ate it. “There are some automatic reasons the state department won’t grant a visa. If he had a criminal background. If he or a member of his family was involved in drug trafficking. If he was supported by the proceeds of trafficking. Security reasons. The list is endless.”
“He didn’t have a criminal background.”
“Have you filed the complaint?”
“Refiling it as soon as a pre-deposition occurs.”
“Try a third party request to the Bureau of Consular Affairs to get his application and all accompanying documentation. If you get it, you should gain insight into why he was denied.”
“Emilie’s on her way to Texas now. Maybe she can track it down.”
“Maybe.”
Hayden’s phone buzzed, and she checked it. A text from Emilie? She should be almost to Texas.
“Oh no. Emilie’s flight was cancelled due to weather. Flights are grounded to Texas.”
Ciara brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and then tore off a piece of bread to dip in her soup. “Why were you sending her instead of going yourself?”
“She volunteered, and the partners aren’t keen on me making the trip.” Hayden took a sip of her sweet tea.
Ciara considered her. “Emilie would have more freedom—you’d have a government representative with you.”
“That’s why it made sense.” Hayden glanced up. “There is something odd going on at the office, and I can’t decide if it’s tied to this case. Over the weekend someone came into my office and organized it. Someone trashed Campbell’s office, and he thinks it was me.”
“Why would he think that?”
Hayden shrugged. “Whoever it was left my letter opener in his mess. But it’s hard to believe that Campbell would really think I was responsible.” She speared a tomato with her fork. “He’s convinced whoever did it was after the client file for this young man. The file he didn’t give me.”
Ciara frowned. “He was withholding a file? Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Until this morning, I thought he’d given me everything. This case feels bigger than it should, with all kinds of artificial pressure to finish everything yesterday but not go to Texas.” She closed up her to-go salad. “I’ll take this back to the office. Thanks for your help.”
Hayden gave Ciara a quick hug, and her friend stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Don’t let it rattle you. You’re a great attorney, Hayden. Look how many people you’ve helped. You can find a way to get justice for this kid too.”
Hayden swallowed back the feeling that she was only pretending to be an attorney and her recent success had been a happy fluke. If she was the great attorney people thought, she wouldn’t struggle with indecision on what to do next. The path would be clear and she’d follow it as easily as Dorothy followed the Yellow Brick Road. Instead, the case was shrouded in a fog that left her wondering if she had the skill to win.
She battled the thoughts as she walked back to the office, barely noticing the way the sun warmed her face. Her cell phone rang, and rather than hurry to the office, Hayden took a seat on a bench in front of the city building. “Emilie?”
“Hey, sorry about Texas. It was going to take all day or a ton of money to get me rerouted. Instead, I have a voucher for an
other flight. It’s yours if you want it.”
“Thanks, Em. Somehow I’ll get the partners to cover it.”
Hayden had barely ended the call when her phone rang again. The caller ID indicated that it was a call rerouted from the office.
“Hayden McCarthy.”
“I’m Jacqueline Reynolds, attorney for Director Snowden with the juvenile detention facility in Texas. The director is a very busy man, but he can schedule the deposition for Wednesday at four. He’ll have an hour for you at that time. Otherwise, I’m afraid he will be unavailable for the next four weeks.”
Hayden bristled at the woman’s pompous tone. It was clear as spring water that she expected Hayden to say no. Hayden wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“I’ll be there. Please e-mail me the directions, and my assistant will arrange a court reporter and videographer.”
The woman on the other side of the call sputtered a moment, then quickly recovered and exchanged the information. She sputtered again when Hayden pressed for up to six hours of deposition time, but Hayden insisted. This was her one shot to get the information she needed. She’d never get the partners to agree to a second trip.
Her chest constricted. In fact, she still had to get them to agree to a first.
CHAPTER 26
Hayden rehearsed arguments as she climbed the stairs to the front door of Elliott & Johnson. A man in a sharp suit with a tattoo peeking from his collar stepped out of the way as she approached. He held the door for her, but seemed intent on something behind him. She breezed past him and said hello to the receptionist, then climbed the stairs to her office. She stopped long enough to drop her things, and then strode purposefully to Gerard’s office.
Carmen sat behind her desk outside his door, typing on her computer. “Hey, Hayden.”
“What kind of mood is he in?”
Carmen tilted her head. “He’s still muttering about finding his office in disarray, but I’ve got everything back in order. How much time do you need? A key client arrives in five minutes.”
