by Cara Putman
Andrew’s phone began beeping. “His name was Officer Lovelace.” He stepped back and pulled out his phone. Mrs. Bradford? His pulse accelerated. Why would she be calling? Had something happened to Jorge? “Hello?”
“Andrew, you need to come home right away.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Jorge saw a man break into your condo when he went out to get my mail a few minutes ago. He hurried back inside to tell me and has retreated to my spare bedroom. Andrew, Jorge won’t come out.” Her words had picked up speed even as the volume dropped. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Did the moment Jorge told me about the intruder. They’re on the way.”
“We’re keeping them busy.” Andrew rubbed a hand up and down his face, fighting the waves of exhaustion from a long day. His car was at Hayden’s, Emilie was here, and Jorge needed him. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
What he needed was a friend he could call to get there ahead of him. Instead, he’d grab a cab and reclaim his Jeep later.
“Everything all right?” Hayden touched his arm.
“I need to get home.” He took a step toward the door, but the officer didn’t budge. “Can you stay and find out how Emilie is?”
She stepped closer. “Is it Jorge?”
“Yes. He’s okay, but my neighbor’s concerned. Someone broke into my condo, police are on the way, and Jorge is still shaking.” He tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll call as soon as I can.”
“I will too.” She stepped back and tipped her head until she could meet his eyes. “Be careful. This is big.”
“Yeah.” Bigger than they could understand. Could the two disjointed pieces be connected? The thought wouldn’t leave him as he nodded at the policeman and then hurried to the main doors and the taxi stand. He prayed God would be with Jorge and Emilie, and that he would get home in time to help Jorge and find out who had broken into his home.
Hayden paced the floor in the emergency room waiting for someone who could tell her anything. The volunteer was only doing his job, but everything inside Hayden screamed to know Emilie was okay. While she waited she’d called Savannah, Caroline, and Jaime. The three had trickled in over the last half hour, and now it felt like the vigil wasn’t hers alone. Andrew wasn’t answering his cell, and she felt desperate for information from any front. Finally Savannah marched off, insisting she would learn something or heads would roll.
Caroline and Jaime huddled next to each other on a vinyl-covered couch, while Hayden couldn’t stop moving.
“She’s fine.” Caroline looked up with a forced smile. “You’ll see.”
“If she was fine, we’d be back there.” Jaime snapped, and Caroline shot her a dagger-filled look. “You know it’s true.”
“Maybe, but you don’t have to be so quick with the glass half-empty.”
“And you don’t need to be so Pollyannish.”
“Ladies.” Hayden sank between them on the narrow couch until it felt like they were back in law school beating their heads against some outdated tome. “Arguing won’t help Emilie. Did y’all read her article?”
“Today’s?” Caroline shook her head. “Not yet.”
“It’s a blueprint for my case. Somehow Emilie worked her magic and discovered things I hadn’t.”
Jaime smiled. “Sounds like our girl.”
“Yep.” Hayden filled them in on the crazy happenings in Texas. “When you add in the attack on Miguel’s mom, it can’t be coincidence. It’s all related somehow.”
Jaime arched a dark eyebrow at her. “When did you become a conspiracy theorist?”
“I’m not, but I got fired over this case, my home has been broken into, and now someone broke into Andrew’s place? It can’t be unrelated.”
Caroline listed against the couch. “How would Andrew be connected to any of this?”
“Jorge, Miguel’s brother, has stayed with him since Jorge’s mom was attacked Saturday. Maybe whoever’s behind all this figured that out.” Hayden rubbed the heel of her hands against her eyes, the fatigue and stress crashing over her in a wave. “But there is a connection.” She leaned back next to Caroline, and Jaime collapsed on her other side. “What if Miguel brought something to the US that someone else wants?”
“If he did, wouldn’t you have it in his personal items?” Caroline looked like she wanted to help but wasn’t sure whether Hayden had gone off her rocker.
“It wasn’t. What if he sent it with his mom or Jorge and planned to reclaim it when he arrived? What if it was so valuable he didn’t want to risk losing it traveling via coyote?”
“But whoever wanted it didn’t know that?” Jaime’s mouth dropped open. “And they killed him for something he didn’t have?”
Hayden nodded. It all made terrible, perfect sense. “The question is, what did he have, and who wanted it?”
“And where is it now? Did you figure out what he was running from?”
Hayden shook her head softly. “I asked around in Texas. There’s at least one man with a snake tattoo who seems to show up in a couple different places. It’s a long shot, but if he’s tied to all of this, the tattoo indicates he’s part of a Mexican drug family . . . one dealing in new drugs like meth.”
Caroline suddenly launched forward, knocking Hayden into Jaime. “What if that’s the connection? You said Miguel’s mom and brother came legally, but he couldn’t. What if the reason was he’s connected to drug money?” She scrambled to pull up her phone and did a quick Internet search. “See?” She pointed to the screen. “If your support comes from drugs or other illegal proceeds, you can’t immigrate legally.”
It fit. “Ciara said that could prohibit someone from obtaining a visa. So Miguel was stuck in the perfect storm. He wanted to leave, but couldn’t unless he came illegally. So maybe he brought something with him—or sent it with his mother or brother—to barter for his freedom.” She shook her head. “That’s a stretch.”
Jaime dislodged herself from the couch and took a seat across from them. “Not really. I’ve seen it with clients.” She made a face. “They believe if they have something the government wants they’ll go free. What if Miguel watched one too many movies where that worked—without the flip side that shows the real-life nightmares?”
“The cinematic legal system doesn’t match the real one.” Hayden felt a pulse of excitement. It all fit. “We have to find whatever it was he sent north.”
“Because someone is still looking for it.” Caroline rubbed her arms as if fighting a chill.
“I don’t want anyone else caught in the crossfire.” Hayden’s phone rang just as Savannah reappeared.
“Hayden, this is Andrew. I’m almost home. Anything on Emilie?”
“Not yet.”
“Listen. I wanted to tell you. My editor is announcing my identity in Saturday’s paper. That means I’ve got to talk to Dad tomorrow.”
“I’ll be praying for that conversation.”
“Thanks.” There was a long pause. “Let me know as soon as you know about Emilie.”
“Savannah went after information, and she’s just back. I’ll call after I hear what she learned.”
“All right. Thanks, Hayden.”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it, and then clicked to end the call.
Savannah sank onto the seat next to Jaime.
“How is she?” Hayden pushed the words around the sudden lump in her throat.
“The doctors won’t know for sure until she wakes up.”
CHAPTER 44
Andrew scrambled upstairs to the condo.
He unlocked the door, and the flashing lights of the police vehicles strobed around him. The media hadn’t arrived, but he imagined it wouldn’t take long once word circulated that police had been called to Congressman Wesley’s son’s home. He could feel the last vestiges of his carefully constructed separation between his public persona and his second career collapsing. I
f the police were in his condo, then someone would figure out he was Roger Walters. And when they figured that out, there was nothing left to protect. It was a good thing it would be public Saturday.
“Slow down, mister.” The voice held quiet authority, and Andrew lifted his frantic gaze. “You can’t barrel up these stairs, not while my fellow officers are in the condo.” The African American officer’s gaze narrowed as he looked Andrew up and down. “You’d better start explaining who you are and why you’re here.”
“I own a condo on the second floor.”
The man stared him down.
“I think mine’s the one that was broken into.”
“I’ll need to see ID.”
Andrew slowly reached for his billfold in his back pocket, as the door to Mrs. Bradford’s unit opened.
“Thanks goodness you’re here, Andrew.” Her face looked haggard and shadowed. “Jorge still won’t talk. He’s got me worried.” She turned to the officer. “He lives here, Officer Williams. This is Andrew Wesley, Congressman Wesley’s son.”
Andrew tried not to grimace as she led with his identity.
“I still need ID.”
Andrew nodded. He opened his billfold and slid his driver’s license out. As the officer studied it, Andrew turned his attention to Mrs. Bradford. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, the police arrived quickly. But I’m worried about Jorge. Ever since we went to visit his mom this afternoon, he’s been too quiet.” Her eyes were wide yet her voice calm as if she didn’t want Jorge to know how bothered she was. “Then the intruder arrived, and he panicked. I can’t get him to believe he’s safe. Even my chocolate chip cookies wouldn’t coax him out.”
Andrew grinned at her. “That is serious. Where is he now?”
“Still lying on my guest bed.”
Andrew nodded and followed her to the room. A minute later he saw Jorge resting, eyes wide open. “Jorge? You okay?”
The boy muttered in Spanish, “Mi Dios, mi Salvador.” Over and over he whispered the words from his clenched lips.
“Jorge.” Andrew reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are safe.”
Jorge shook his head and pulled into a tight ball.
“He is here.” The broken words, spoken in English, cracked Andrew’s heart.
“Who? Who is here?”
“El hombre.”
Andrew sank onto the bed. “Who?”
Jorge looked at him with panic-filled brown eyes. “El jefe’s man. The man who hurt my mother.”
Hayden scrubbed the grit from her eyes. The night in the emergency room and then outside Emilie’s hospital room as her friend lay unconscious, tethered to a host of machines, had been long and yet too short. Savannah had told her to meet her in Old Town at eleven, and the short shower she’d allowed herself had done nothing to make her feel more human. Her thoughts spun in so many directions, it felt like her mind had hyped up on an overload of caffeine while her body begged for the sanctuary of her bed. Twenty-four hours earlier she’d been in Texas meeting with Matt, and now she was trying to figure out where she was.
Andrew had called and updated her on Jorge, but it all made so little sense. The pieces had to be connected. But what had Miguel sent and where was it? She knew Andrew needed to help Jorge, keeping him protected until the police could catch whoever had terrorized him, but she felt safer when Andrew was with her.
She had to be strong, but as she swiped a spider’s web from the corner of her doorway, she felt trapped in her own web of events that had spiraled out of her control.
Her phone vibrated, and she swiped a finger across the screen to read a message from Savannah.
Are you coming?
Guess Savannah didn’t allow time to stand paralyzed. And her mentor was right. She had a case to move forward even if she didn’t have a firm from which to do it.
Thirty minutes later she adjusted her attaché case strap and tried to breathe in strength the moment before she pushed open the door to Savannah’s law firm in a prime location in Old Town.
“If it isn’t Miz Hayden McCarthy.” Savannah’s warm-hearted secretary, Bella Stoller, greeted her with a big smile. Her black suit looked dignified and strangely comfortable as she stood to engulf Hayden in a big hug. “Savannah is paging me every fifteen minutes to see if you’ve arrived.” She tapped a button on the headset as she retook her seat. “She’s here.” She nodded and then pointed Hayden toward the hallway. “She says to go on back. You know where.”
“Thanks, Bella.” Hayden stepped around the desk.
Several closed doors fed off the hallway. One led to a small conference room and library, the others to offices and a kitchenette. Hayden couldn’t think of a time when all the offices had been filled, yet Savannah insisted she needed the space. Her lease would make firms like Elliott & Johnson weep with envy.
Savannah stepped from the office farthest down the hall. “Come on back, Hayden.”
“When did you switch offices?”
“I didn’t.” Savannah grinned as she brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
Hayden entered the office and then stopped. “Leigh? What are you doing here?”
Her former paralegal sat in one of two leather chairs in front of a cherry desk and credenza, looking as bewildered as Hayden felt.
Savannah’s grin widened. “We were getting to that, so your timing is perfect.” She gestured to the open chair, and then moved behind the desk. “I have a proposition for you. A proposal to consider as you evaluate your options.”
“Okay . . .”
“Set up your own practice.” She raised her hands as Hayden’s mouth opened. “Hear me out. You haven’t been happy at the litigation mill, and this would allow you to take the cases that matter to you. You’ll want to run with the Rodriguez case, which means you don’t have time to hunt a location. I’m willing to front four months of Leigh’s salary.” She named a figure that was less than Leigh had made, but still more than being unemployed. “And I’ll let you use offices here. You’ll have to front your expenses and salary. It’s the risk we all take when we go out on our own.”
“But I don’t have any clients other than Maricel.”
“You run this one well, word will get out. You take court appointments while you wait. You’ve loved those cases and the judges will appoint you. I’ve already checked. It’ll get you going.”
Hayden looked from Savannah to Leigh, her mind racing with possibilities and fears. “What do you think, Leigh?”
“I can give you four months and see how this works. You need a good paralegal, and I find myself needing a job.” There was a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s gotta be more fun than Elliott & Johnson.”
“Fun was not the word coming to me.” Hayden blew out a breath. “I don’t have the ability to pay rent or utilities or really anything.”
Savannah waved her words away. “I’m not worried about that. I want you to have the space to make a good decision, not rush into the first job that walks your way.”
Hayden blew out a laugh. “Isn’t that what I’m doing if I say yes?”
Savannah leaned forward and shook her head. “You are taking a risk and giving yourself the gift of four months to make this work.”
“Actually, I think you are.”
“Then call me your fairy godmother, but you need a place to run the Rodriguez case to make it a success. Campbell was right. This case could make your career.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Seems awfully unfair that this opportunity should come to such a babe in arms, but”—she shrugged—“I want to help you succeed. You don’t have to do law the way everyone else does. You’re one big verdict and a bit of wisdom away from the impact you’ve wanted.”
Hayden felt a burble of excitement stir inside her, warring with the voice of caution that screamed that the idea was crazy and fraught with danger. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do more than that. Pray about it. And until you know for sure, you’re welcome
to work out of this office. The computer isn’t the latest model, but it works.” She turned to Leigh. “I can only pay you if Hayden says yes, so you might work on those persuasive skills.” She stood and waved her arms open. “Talk and let me know what y’all decide. You’ve got a government to get into settlement conversations, and that happens best with properly applied pressure.”
Savannah swept from the room, and Leigh turned toward Hayden, her jaw hanging open. “Is she always like this?”
“A presence to be reckoned with? Yeah.” Hayden shook her head, but it did nothing to slow her spinning thoughts. “So what do you want to do?”
“I need a job, even a temporary one, so I’m in if you are.”
A slow warmth spread from Hayden’s center. It really was now or never. “Then let’s get down to work.”
She had not expected Savannah to sweep onto the scene with a plan for her to hang out her own shingle—a plan that eased without eliminating the risks. With Leigh on board, even temporarily, she could restart without much of a hiccup. Hayden handed Leigh her flash drive and asked her to ensure the discovery requests were ready for a review when she got back. Then she headed to her town house.
Her phone rang on the way, and she sat down on a bench to answer it. “Andrew, is Emilie okay?”
“The doctors say she will be. She’s showing signs of regaining consciousness.”
They would know more when she started talking, but the doctors thought that other than deep bruises and broken ribs, a headache would be the worst of Emilie’s long-term issues.
“I’m trying to work on the fair while I sit here, but I’m considering postponing it.”
“You can’t do that. Emilie will be furious if she wakes up and finds you cancelled it because of her.”
“We shouldn’t do it without her.”
“She’ll wake up and I’ll get her there. All we have to do is implement her plan.”
“All.” Andrew snorted. “I might have thought I could do the day without her in the beginning, but this binder seriously has three pages of tasks left, and I’m coordinating Maricel’s release from the hospital.”
