He’d just have to get over it.
I shut my car door and walked across a parking lot filled with cars but no people. It was still dark outside, approaching five a.m. I tucked my purse under my arm. The hard edges of my Luger weren’t there. I suddenly felt vulnerable without the safety of my pistol. It had become part of my ensemble, like the comfort of a warm sweater.
Leaves rustled behind me. I flipped around so fast my shoe kicked the car next to me. My knees were bent, my hands balled into fists. I was ready for anyone. My eyes darted left and right as I waited for another sound to launch me in the correct direction.
Three beats later, a gust of wind blew across my face, and more leaves fluttered across the lot.
I released a breath.
Don’t go there, Ivy. Don’t give the power back to Milton.
I turned on my heels and shoved the self-doubt out of my conscious thoughts. I walked into the middle-scale apartment building, waved at the security guard, and found the elevator. I made my way up to the fifth floor and walked up to apartment 536. I’d considered calling Saul in advance, but I didn’t want to give him the chance to evade my questions. I had a better shot with him face to face.
I knocked three times. A moment went by, and I heard what sounded like someone stumbling to the floor. Then I heard voices, including at least one female voice.
My neck suddenly grew stiff. I tried rubbing it, but I could only feel a stabbing pain in my shoulder blade.
The latch unlocked, the door creaked open.
“Ivy, what the hell are you doing here?”
It was Saul, bare-chested, wearing boxer briefs. They hugged all the right parts of his body, and it was everything I could do to keep my eyes above his waist.
“Hey, what’s going on?” was my lame opening line. His attire—or lack thereof—had thrown my mind into a spiral.
“It’s five a.m., that’s what’s going on. Is everything okay?” He reached out and touched my elbow.
Keep your eyes up, Ivy.
“I need to talk to you about Dillon’s case. Do you mind?” I took a single step forward.
“Uh…” he stuttered.
“Who’s at the door, Saul?”
I peered into the darkness beyond the doorway, searching for the sultry voice who had said those words. “You have company. I should have known not to surprise you like this.” My face went flush.
“Ivy, it’s really nothing,” he said with a hesitant chuckle.
I turned, looked down the hallway for a moment, trying to get my thoughts straight. “Seriously, Saul, you don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
“You’re not listening, Ivy. Will you listen to me, please?”
A girl’s face showed up just behind Saul, with donut-sized, brown eyes and creamy skin. “Who is she?” she whispered.
“I’m right here,” I said, raising a hand. “I can hear you. Damn, this is awkward.”
The girl started giggling. I could feel my face harden as she moved around Saul. She was wrapped in a sheet…a very thin sheet at that. Her hair was a rat’s nest, but she still had a sexy air about her.
A sheen of sweat coated my face.
“Saul, I think she’s here for a booty call.” She bit her lower lip, and eyed me up and down.
I stepped forward. “I’m no one’s booty call,” I said with my teeth clenched.
Saul stepped between us. “Hold on, hold on.”
“I don’t give a shit about your rendezvous with your little groupie—”
“Her name is Crystal.”
“Crystal,” I scoffed. “Figures.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes. She grabbed the sheet just before it dropped below nipple line.
“You got a pole in there? Or did Saul just give you an extra five bucks if you rode his pole?”
“Dammit, Ivy!”
Well, that was becoming a regular mantra. Too damn bad. “What?” I spat out, my chin held high.
“Crystal is my niece. She and her boyfriend both go to UNT and are on their way down to the Valley. They’re spending the night.”
I had to replay his words a second time. When I finished, I felt about two inches tall. “Sorry?”
“Was that a question?” he asked.
“No probs,” Crystal said. “Enough excitement for me. I’ll let you two lovebirds fight it out while I get a couple more hours of sleep.”
She disappeared back into the darkness.
“I’m really sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“I know it looked bad. Why are you here, especially at this hour?”
“It’s Dillon. I need to know more about his alibi. And I need to know it now.”
He crossed his arms across his chest and wiped his face. Another battle. Just what I needed.
41
In the soft glow of the light from under the fan in his kitchen, Saul poured two glasses of orange juice, then handed me one and sat down next to me on a barstool. Thankfully, he’d thrown on a T-shirt—apparently he was a Cubs fan—and a pair of baggy shorts. The baggier the better. He looked at me and rubbed his chin.
“What?”
“Are you going to trust me?” His honey-brown eyes twinkled in the light.
“Trust. Do you really want to use that term, considering our history?” I sipped the orange juice, trying to temper my agitation.
“I don’t want to get into all of that. It’s just that I know your mind, and it can question everything.”
“I hope that you’ll tell me the truth. There. Is that good enough for you?”
His eyes grew big. “Wow, you’re really on a roll,” he said. “I know you’re questioning some things about Dillon. I get it. And then there’s Cristina’s mess. Any headway on that front?”
“I found her mother, somehow avoided being assaulted and shot. Cristina’s fine, for now at least. But I’m not sure how to keep her out of prison.”
His eyes found my hand pressed against my rib cage.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching a hand toward mine.
“Don’t touch. Please. I just need to know about Dillon’s alibi. Are you going to tell me?”
He watched himself twist the glass on the counter, as if he were debating what to tell me. Or whether to share anything at all.
“I have the right to know, Saul.”
He looked up at me. “The right? Is it your right to know every detail of a case of one of our clients? Is there a new amendment to the Constitution I’m not aware of?”
A loud “shush” came from down the hall. It was Crystal.
I made sure to keep my volume low. “So now you’re one of them?” I said with a tilt of my head.
He took in a long breath through his nose. “That’s a low blow, and you know it.”
“You’re the one who referenced the Constitution.”
A heavy silence engulfed our space.
After a few seconds, he said, “I’m under no obligation to tell you anything. This is a serious charge, and we can’t afford to have facts of the case uncontained.”
I poked his upper arm. Nice deltoids…which only distracted me for a moment. “I’m confused. Is that actually you, Herbert Ross?”
“Funny, Ivy. Very fucking funny.”
I rolled my eyes and turned my sights to the stovetop, which appeared unused.
“I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m not.”
I refused to look at him.
“I have a problem sometimes with putting the right parameters around my work. I may not be a lawyer just yet, but I will be. And I just can’t automatically flip the ethical switch whenever I want. I hope you get it.”
I stayed quiet.
“Ivy, is that clear?”
I slowly turned my head to him. “Crystal.” I climbed off the stool and started walking to the door. “And here I thought that you were different.”
He tried
to catch up. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here. That’s not cool.”
“Fine. Look in the mirror and tell yourself you’re a good person over and over again. Meanwhile, Dillon will continue raping girl after girl while everyone pretends he’s one righteous dude.”
I put my hand on the doorknob.
“What do you mean girl after girl?”
His tone had changed.
“You heard me,” I said without turning around.
“If you’re trying to shock me into hearing you out, it worked,” he said, touching my arm.
I eyed his hand. “Please don’t touch me.”
He quickly removed his hand as I turned around with my arms folded. “What?”
“What’s this little bomb that you just detonated about Dillon and other women?”
“I didn’t say women; I said girls. He raped underage girls--plural. And they weren’t underage by just a week.”
“How do you know this? Or is this just some Internet rumor that you came across?”
“I don’t troll message boards looking for smut on people. That sounds like a logical job for a lawyer.”
“Ouch. Ivy one, Saul nothing.”
I tapped the floor with my foot, my gaze unwavering.
“What do you want me to do, beg?” he asked, his arms splayed.
“I can’t share my sources. Not yet anyway.”
“You need to tell me how you got this information. I can’t just go on your word. This is important. This could impact Dillon’s defense.”
“Screw his defense. This has impacted teenage girls. It has destroyed many lives. It’s time the secret came out.”
He raked his fingers through his thick head of hair, his eyes wandering away from me. “Crap, I’m not sure what I should do.”
“Tell me his alibi.”
He grunted.
“Is it really that painful?”
He released a stressed breath and looked at me. “It could be. If I get fired now, when I’m really close to getting my law degree, I’ll lose all credibility. Ross would blackball me.”
“My source saw him rape a thirteen-year-old girl, Saul.” I could feel bile crawl up and tickle the back of my throat. I was reminded that my past was never far away.
“Thirteen. Damn.”
I held out both hands like the scales of justice. “Do what’s right, or do what’s right for you. That’s your choice.”
Suddenly, music blared from the kitchen. “Dammit, that’s my alarm,” he said, jogging back into the kitchen. He picked up his phone and made the music stop.
I followed him into the kitchen. “Bon Jovi’s ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’?”
“I go old school occasionally.” He turned his head in both directions, as if he were deciding his next move. “I need to get ready for work.”
“Okay. I guess you made your decision.” I flipped on my heels and went for the door.
“Before I go to work, maybe we can stop by the house of the woman who was with Dillon the night of the alleged assault,” he said.
I turned back around and tried to contain my smile. “Your car or mine?”
42
Saul and I played rock, paper, scissors to see whose car we would take. He won the best two-out-of-three event, but then convinced me we should take Black Beauty.
“I may not want my car to be seen at her home. Just trying to see if we can get through this without me getting fired,” he said. I didn’t question it. I mostly stayed silent as he gave me directions to the home of Lisa Graham. We walked up the front sidewalk of a Spanish-style, two-story home. Similar cookie-cutter properties with green carpets for lawns and two trees in the front yard were situated every fifteen feet for block after block. The entire community was surrounded by a ten-foot brick wall.
“Wow,” I said. “She’s living the American dream, huh?”
“Not quite. She’s recently separated. And the last time I was here, she was in a big argument with her daughter. Remind me to never have teenagers.”
“Typically, you don’t start off with teenagers. There are a few steps before that.”
He smirked.
“I’m surprised you’re okay with me talking to her,” I said. “Thank you.”
“If I simply gave you her name, I knew you’d reach out to her anyway. I might lose my job regardless, but at least this way, I might be able to control some of the damage. And I texted her with a heads-up while you were driving.”
I gave him a double-take, but I chose not to scold him for warning her of our visit. “You still don’t believe that Dillon could be a serial rapist of underage girls, do you?”
“I believe that you think what you’re saying is true.”
“So you’re questioning my source.”
“I suppose. No offense.” He walked up and rang the doorbell. I sidled up next to him, and he turned to look at me. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was a possibility. Maybe more than a possibility.”
The door opened before I could inquire further about the root of Saul’s apprehension regarding Dillon’s innocence.
“Hi, Saul.” A woman with skin the color of creamed tea and hair that swooped across her forehead stood at the threshold, her hands clasped in front of her. She didn’t appear to be wearing makeup and had an exotic look about her. Her voice sounded reserved, worn down even, as if she hadn’t slept.
“Hi, Lisa. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
Her deep-set eyes shifted to me, then back to Saul. “That is our arrangement, isn’t it? If anyone at your firm has questions for me, I need to be at your beck and call.” She stepped aside, extended an arm. “Come on in. We can sit in the living room off to the left.”
The moment my shoe tapped the Travertine, a yelping dog made a beeline out of the kitchen right for us. The shaggy mutt stood no higher than a foot off the ground.
“Shelby, get over here. Now!” Despite Lisa’s petite size, her voice had some power behind it. But Shelby had a mind of his own, and he raced over and started gnawing at my shoe.
“Damn dog. I’m so sorry,” she said, chasing the dog around me until she finally scooped him up in her arms. “It was my husband’s idea to get a dog. Now he’s left me with something else to take care of.” She huffed. “Give me a second. Take a seat, and I’ll be right with you.”
We walked into the living room where there was a loveseat and a single chair. The only logical choice was the loveseat. When Saul and I sat down, we were shoulder to shoulder on the small couch. “What’s this so-called arrangement you guys have with her?” I whispered while craning my neck to ensure she wasn’t coming around the corner from the kitchen.
“It’s complicated. But I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Find out what?”
He looked toward the kitchen, then back to me. “To us—”
“Us being?”
“Ross, me. The firm.”
I nodded, and he continued with his original thought. “To us, a corroborating witness is just that. We interview them, ensure they won’t turn on us, that kind of thing. But Dillon insisted on making it more official. And, to a degree, I could understand why.”
I leaned forward. “What do you mean by ‘more official,’ and why was it necessary?”
“They entered into a personal services contract to where Lisa can’t say anything disparaging about Dillon or his company. It’s done all the time with celebrities.”
“Dillon the celeb,” I said.
Lisa had come from the kitchen and was standing at the bottom of the stairs, both hands on the bannister. She hollered, “Nora, you can’t stay home from school again. Get your ass down here and get going to school, do you hear me?”
I found myself holding my breath.
“Fuck you, Mom,” a girl yelled from upstairs.
Saul nudged my knee.
“Another reason not to have teenagers?” I whispered to him.
“I don’t think we should be here.
Lisa’s on edge. I don’t want her calling—”
“Glad you found the loveseat.” Lisa swooped into the living room and sat down. As she crossed her legs, she checked over her shoulder, probably looking for her daughter. With her arms draped over the armrests and her leg kicking at a rapid pace, her meek introduction had vanished. “I should have told you, Saul, that I really don’t have a great deal of time. I’m a little scattered right now.”
“I understand,” he said, looking at me. “Just a couple of questions.” That was my cue.
“Can you review one more time where you and Dillon were the night the alleged assault took place?” I asked.
Her leg didn’t stop kicking, as she turned her sights to Saul. “Who is she, may I ask?”
“Oh, a new investigator that we’ve hired at the firm. She’s in charge of auditing all of our cases. Can’t be too careful.”
Saul thought pretty well on his feet. I just hoped it wouldn’t burn him later. She responded with a slow nod. Did her eyes just bug out for a quick second? Yep, they sure did. She wasn’t happy to be in this position; that much was obvious.
“We were in bed. Is that blunt enough for you?” Her eyes stayed on mine.
I offered a lame chuckle in response. “I need more information. Time, place. Did anyone else see the two of you together?”
“Where’s my fucking bra?” a distant voice called out. Then the pounding of feet marching down the stairs.
Nora had arrived.
Her long, toned legs were easy to spot with her mini-skirt and four-inch heels. She also wore a white button-down that was tied at the waist. She flipped her wheat-colored hair over her shoulders, and a young Brittany Spears came to mind, or the modern-day teenage-slut equivalent. She stopped at the edge of the living room, hands on hips.
“Don’t be rude to your mother.” Lisa enunciated each word with precision.
Nora grunted and rolled her eyes.
“Why are you wearing that skirt and heels? And your shirt… You need to go upstairs, put on some jeans and one of your school T-shirts and dress like every other ninth-grader.” Lisa pointed a stiff finger.
“Whatever, Mom. Now you suddenly want me to act like a little kid? Good luck with that. What does Dad always say? ‘The horse is already out of the barn.’” She threw her head back and laughed.
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 69
