Damaged

by Pamela Callow

  “Did you tell her Child Protection could get it for her?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Yes. I did.”

  “Then why didn’t you call them?”

  “I wasn’t sure I should.” She looked out his window. But her gaze was inward. Searching her soul.

  He waited. He needed to know why she’d made this decision. He had an obligation to the firm to test her on her professional abilities.

  Finally she said, “She wanted to keep the matter private. She was concerned that Lisa wouldn’t want to live with her if she notified the authorities…”

  “But, Kate, if the girl was endangering herself, you had a legal obligation to report it!”

  “I know!” Her eyes blazed at him. “Don’t you think I know that?” Her tone changed abruptly. “The only behavior that Mrs. MacAdam could point to was that Lisa wasn’t showing up for supper on time. Hardly out of the ordinary for a teenager.”

  “Do you think she was telling the truth?”

  She glanced away. “I couldn’t tell. When I informed her about my duty to report to Child Protection, she became upset. And I wondered if that influenced the rest of the meeting. I wondered if she was holding back.”

  “So much so that you changed your mind and reported your concerns to the police yesterday?”

  “How did you know that?” She stared at him, shock making hollows under her cheekbones.

  “Child Protection told me.” He’d been just as shocked. It had taken all of his skill to keep it out of his voice and assure them that he had every confidence in his new associate Ms. Lange.

  She drew back in her chair. “They called you?”

  “Yes. They are investigating whether you met your statutory obligations. Apparently Mrs. MacAdam hadn’t given you the same version as she gave the police.” His eyes drilled into hers.

  “Oh, my God.” She became so pale that he almost got out of his chair to steady her. He forced his pity down. She was in an unenviable position. Heartrending. But years of experience had taught him that the moment when his emotions were most likely to erupt was precisely the time they needed to be held firmly in check. He could not let her see how profoundly sorry he felt for her. The firm’s reputation depended on his ability to judge her objectively. But it was obvious that this latest piece of information was news to her. It would appear that she’d been screwed by her client.

  She straightened that steel spine of hers and said, chin up, “So what did you tell them?”

  That’s my girl. Fight back. The thought flashed through his mind, unnerving him. Again. “That I was going to speak with you and phone them afterward.”

  “I see.” Her eyes searched his face. After a long pause, she asked quietly, “What are you going to tell them?”

  What his gut had been telling him all along. “That you acted appropriately.” He finally let her see the sympathy he’d been holding in check.

  There was a slight loosening of her shoulders.

  “Kate, they may want to have an independent opinion.”

  “I understand.”

  “But I think, in terms of your client, you did the right thing.”

  Tears suddenly welled in her eyes. He had an uncontrollable urge to give her comfort. Put a hand on her shoulder. Draw her to him. Feel her damp eyelashes on his skin.

  Jesus. What was wrong with him? He drew back in his chair.

  She looked away. “Thank you.” She rose from her seat.

  He couldn’t help himself. He lifted a hand. “I’m not done yet.”

  She sank back to her seat, averting her gaze until her eyes were dry. Relief brought a tinge of color back to her cheeks. It was clear to him that she’d been suffering all week.

  He knew why the suffering would be so acute.

  She didn’t know this—and he would never tell her—but he knew all about her sister. And her father. He’d been the inadvertent witness to her life story. His mother had been the manager of the bank her father had defrauded.

  That knowledge had given him all the more reason to resist John Lyons’ desire to hire Kate. That, and the fact he sensed John Lyons had more than just a mentor’s interest in his new hire. He studied Kate. Was there anything going on? She’d worked hard to rise above her past. He admired her for that. More than he would ever let her know. But his admiration would corrode in a heartbeat if she allowed herself to be seduced by John Lyons. She ought to know—after all, didn’t everyone know? His lips twisted bitterly—how he would feel about an affair in his firm.

  She watched him with an expectant look on her face. There was a small light in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. He hated to crush it, but he had an obligation to the firm. “Judge Carson is now calling us and demanding to know why her mother-in-law was seeking legal advice behind her back just days before her daughter was murdered.” He paused. “She’s furious that you called the police about Lisa’s disappearance.”

  “How did she know that?” Did Ethan tell her? Blood rushed to her cheeks.

  “Apparently your client admitted it.”

  Kate stared at him. Marian had betrayed her. But then she thought of the elderly matriarch squaring off with her daughter-in-law and she knew she couldn’t blame Marian. “I’m sure Judge Carson wrung it out of her.”

  “And she’s trying to wring it out of us, too.”

  Kate inhaled sharply. “She would know that we couldn’t divulge anything.”

  “Her daughter’s dead, Kate,” he said gently. “She finds out from the police that her mother-in-law is sneaking around, trying to get custody of her daughter, and three nights later her daughter is murdered and dismembered. I think most people would want answers.”

  “Especially if they feel they are to blame.” The minute she uttered the words, he could tell she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She added quickly, “I only meant that there was some suggestion by Lisa’s grandmother that Judge Carson was not involved enough in her daughter’s life. That Judge Carson might feel guilty about this.”

  Did Hope feel guilty? She’d never seemed dogged by life’s reproaches. But this wasn’t a reproach. This was a full-out assault. And she seemed to be reeling under it. “She’s making up for it now,” he said. “She may not have been involved when her daughter was alive, but she sure as hell is involved now that her daughter is dead.” He paused. “Kate, I have to warn you, Judge Carson is out for your blood. By calling the police before she did, you showed her up.”

  “I was worried about Lisa.”

  “I know. But your action underlined her inaction.”

  Her eyes searched his. They were so translucent. If he stared into them long enough, what would he find? “What do I do about this?” she asked quietly.

  She was asking for advice. He had managed to break through at least one line of defense. Unexpectedly, he wanted her to trust him. “There’s not much you can do unless Mrs. MacAdam comes back, seeking advice. Keep me in the loop this time.”

  “I will.” She shifted on her chair. She wanted to leave. He could sense that. But he couldn’t let her leave until she understood that he was, as of this moment, on her side.

  He walked around his desk and leaned against it. “Kate, you were put in a very difficult situation, partly through my own oversight. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” She stood hurriedly, bending over to pick up her notepad. Her skirt tightened smoothly against her buttocks.

  His nerves leaped in response. He pulled his gaze up to her averted face. She turned to go. “You know, I didn’t come from the silver-spoon background most people think I did.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. Whether it was the intimacy of his tone or the information he revealed, he could tell he’d thrown her for a loop. A softer, kinder Randall? she was probably thinking in amazement. He took advantage of her confusion and added deliberately, “I never knew my father.” She froze. “My mother worked her way up through a bank. She made me read Shakespeare,” he added, to see i
f she would smile. She did. Slightly. It urged him on. “I won a scholarship to Hollis U, then to Harvard Law School. I think you know the rest.”

  “Yes. You have had an impressive career.” She put a hand on the doorknob and looked back over her shoulder. “I want one, too.”

  He took in her steady, clear gaze. “I believe you will, Kate. You’ve made it this far. Try not to make enemies.” On impulse, he shared his own code. “If you do, take no prisoners.”

  She gave him one final, impenetrable look. Then she left.

  He stared at the spot where she had stood. Kate Lange could well become a fine lawyer.

  As long as she stayed out of trouble.

  And between Lisa MacAdam’s murder, Child Protection Services’ investigation and Judge Carson’s wrath, that seemed unlikely.

  What the hell happened in there?

  Kate walked back to her office, completely confused. When she first sat down in front of Randall Barrett’s desk, she’d felt as if she was back at elementary school, perched on the edge of a hard wooden chair in the principal’s office, being told by a censorious Mr. Ginley that young ladies did not put snowballs down the boys’ pants.

  Except Randall Barrett was nothing like Mr. Ginley. Her former principal had been fiftyish, balding, portly and reeked of aftershave.

  Randall Barrett was none of these things. As every warm-blooded female in Halifax was only too aware. He’d been a coup for LMB when he joined the partnership. He had been brilliant at law school, graduating top of his class from Harvard. The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Canada handpicked him to be his articled clerk. After being admitted to the bar, he litigated the big securities cases on Bay Street. Until his star was suddenly eclipsed by his divorce. He returned to Halifax.

  He’d probably thought he was leaving it behind him in Toronto, but the scandal rags of Halifax couldn’t resist sinking their teeth into a prime catch like Randall Barrett. His impressive net worth was gleefully dissected along with a profile of his adulterous wife. She had blamed her affair with another lawyer in her Toronto firm on her husband’s overriding work ethic. Kate figured his ex-wife must have had serious grounds for her complaint. Because, for the life of her, she couldn’t see why any woman married to Randall Barrett would seek sexual satisfaction elsewhere. He reeked of virility.

  Even in her state of shock, or perhaps because of it, his proximity pounded at her reserves. And she hated that.

  When she was summoned to Randall’s office, she was convinced she was about to be fired. No firm, especially one with the kind of rep that LMB had, liked to have a lawyer whose cases resulted in probes by the police and Child Protection Services. She’d gone into Randall’s office on the defensive, not willing to let him see how desperately she needed someone—him, her boss, the firm’s managing partner, one of Halifax’s best legal minds—to acquit her conscience.

  The glimpse of sympathy in his gaze at the end of their meeting had almost been her undoing. It had been a split second, a look that passed between the two of them and left her reeling. Stunned. Disgusted with what she’d wanted to do.

  She’d wanted to bury her face in his shirt, inhale its crisp cotton, feel her tears dampen and warm the tension between them. She knew that he would give her that comfort.

  And more.

  She had seen it in his eyes. The brilliant blue had taken on an intensity, charged with heat, edged with fire.

  What the hell is the matter with you? She strode down the hallway to her office, her thoughts furious, jumbled. He’s the managing partner for God’s sake. You don’t screw your boss. You’d be committing career suicide—not to mention emotional hara-kiri—in one single leap.

  She stalked through her doorway and shut the door. He doesn’t even like you.

  That stung. And what about Ethan?

  She stared out the window. She had no answer to that.

  Disgust mushroomed in her chest. She was yearning for the comfort of Randall Barrett to absolve her of her mistakes, knowing that if she had only acted differently a girl might not have died.

  And in such a horrible, grotesque manner.

  How could she live with that? She sank into her office chair and lowered her face in her hands.

  She knew in that place deep inside her where hard truths could not be eroded by a sympathy-laden glance that she’d made a terrible mistake.

  And she didn’t know how to make it better.

  16

  Saturday, May 5, just before 1:00 p.m.

  A long line of cars marked the street where St. Mark’s Cathedral was located. News trucks hogged the prime parking spots, their satellite dishes gleaming in the watery spring sunshine.

  Kate glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. Lisa MacAdam’s funeral service would begin in twelve minutes. She was glad she’d walked. The parking would be a killer. And she had no doubt she’d get caught in the glut of mourners at the end. She wanted to be able to leave quickly.

  Each strike of her heel on the pavement matched the pounding of her heart. The knowledge that she’d have to sit through Lisa’s funeral had left her edgy. Nauseated. Terrified.

  But it was her act of penance.

  Most of Halifax’s legal community and what appeared to be all of Lisa’s high school had shown up. Dark-suited legal eagles swept past swarms of teenage girls huddled together in the parking lot. The girls held hands or hugged one another. Kate was a little surprised to see so many of Lisa’s classmates. Hadn’t Lisa been a bit of a loner? She wondered if the girls were more distressed at the loss of Lisa or by the shattering of their innocence.

  She remembered Gennie’s funeral. The other girls, watching her. The circumstances beyond their limited experience. She’d hurried past them, hoping for a touch on her sleeve, but none of the girls had moved. They’d just stared at her. Some with pity in their eyes. Some with blame. These girls, these friends of Lisa’s, knew nothing of Kate. Yet she found herself hurrying past them, unable to meet their gaze. Just as she had fifteen years ago.

  A news camera panned over the mourners. Several reporters stood off to the sidelines, mics tucked discreetly in the folds of their jackets, ostensibly respecting the grief of the attendees, while scanning faces, hoping to see if someone was willing to put their grief into words.

  Kate wasn’t. Never would.

  Marian MacAdam sat down on the pew next to her son. She felt him shift slightly away from her. His reticence toward her had always made her heart constrict. She had learned over the years that the more she lavished her only child with love, the less it was returned.

  Despite her own antipathy toward her daughter-in-law, Marian had thought Hope had suited Robert. But strangely, Hope hadn’t been enough for him. Two years ago he surprised everyone by walking out the door.

  And Robert hadn’t been enough for Lisa. Marian liked to believe that he had loved his daughter but his career, his all-consuming jet-setting power-hungry career, had prevented him from acting on that love. Otherwise, how could she explain how indifferent he was to his own daughter’s suffering?

  And she didn’t mean Lisa’s final moments. She meant all the moments leading to this. All the times Lisa’d asked her daddy to fly home to see her in the school play, all the times Lisa’d asked her father to take her with him, all the times Lisa had stopped asking because she knew the answer would never change.

  When Robert walked out that door two years ago, he checked out for good. He never admitted it—he played lip service to the custody agreement—but the reality was that he was never home. And Marian suspected he liked it that way.

  How, Marian wondered, had she managed to raise a son who could abandon his own flesh and blood?

  But now he sat by her side. Viewing his daughter’s coffin with the same drawn expression as he’d viewed her remains yesterday.

  Hope sat on the pew opposite them. She had not acknowledged them. In fact, she’d barely acknowledged anyone. She sat by herself. She stared straight ahead.

  At
the same coffin.

  Encasing the remains of a child that no one had loved enough to save.

  Marian closed her eyes.

  Kate walked through the heavy oak doors of the cathedral. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimness after the brightness outside.

  Several people stood in the vestibule, taking in their bearings like Kate. There was a couple, the man balding and the woman tastefully outfitted, and then another fair-haired man who stood off to the side. They were all dressed in suits, which suggested friends of Judge Carson, but Kate recognized none of them. The couple looked as if they’d graduated at least fifteen years before her, although the blond man was younger. Almost as one, they moved toward a small red-haired teenager handing out programs of the service, her pale blue eyes lined with black but rimmed with pink. It was strange how an event could connect people in a way they never would have imagined a week ago. Now here they were, an older couple who led the way, and a younger man who courteously allowed Kate to walk ahead of him through the doorway.

  Then all their paths parted as they stepped onto the bloodred carpet that bisected the pews. A strange hush swallowed their footsteps. It was the hush of the living who wanted to be silent like the dead girl on the altar, but betray the fact that their hearts are still beating by the nervous flipping of the program pages, the uneasy shifting of bodies on pews, the whispered words of greetings as they found a familiar face in the throng.

  Kate didn’t look around to see if she knew anyone. She hoped no one would see her. She wanted to be by herself.

  She slipped into a pew near the back. There were very few spaces left. The teenage girls she’d seen in the parking lot had better hurry up and get in the cathedral, or they wouldn’t get a seat.

  She glanced down at the program.

  Lisa’s gaze met hers. Kate’s breath stopped in her throat. Lisa looked like a typical teenager. And yet she didn’t. There was something in her eyes, a pain that went deeper than the usual teenage angst, a loneliness that Kate understood only too well.