The auto unlock feature of the remote in my pocket clicked, and I opened the passenger door, indicating she should get inside. Once she slid in, I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, my head swimming.
I hadn’t heard anything about Hutchings’s marriage failing. Not a whisper. Until I had confirmation, I was going to proceed with caution. But I wouldn’t leave a woman stranded and freezing, even if she was the wife of someone I disliked.
I recalled meeting Fiona Hutchings at a dinner I had attended. Scott had been there, drinking too much and talking too loud, the same way he did in a courtroom. He loved calling attention to himself. He was a braggart and a liar, and it was all I could do not to tell him to shut up.
We had been seated at the same table, and I ended up across from him, barely able to stand the fact that I was being subjected to his company. Somehow Fiona ended up beside me and at first I hadn’t known she was his wife. She had only introduced herself by her first name, and we spoke briefly. She was elegant and classy, her hair—blonder then—swept into a knot at the base of her neck, her dress demure. I remember thinking her charming and witty for the few moments we conversed. Although she wasn’t my usual type, I also found her attractive. Then I saw the thin wedding band on her finger, and I reined myself in—I never got involved with married women. It was another one of my rules. Be it someone I met at a bar, one of these dinners, or especially clients—if you were married, it was hands off.
The next moment, Scott’s voice boomed across the table, so deep it was almost a snarl.
“Fiona! Breaking bread with the enemy now, are you?”
She had flushed, and I realized to whom she was married and tried not to shudder. So much for first impressions.
Another attorney at the table chuckled. “Now, now, Scott. This is social. When we’re out of the courtroom, we can all get along, right?”
Scott’s expression said it all, even though he laughed along with everyone else, but he insisted she switch seats. He made a great show of flinging his arm around her shoulders and kissing her. I was certain at the time she had turned her head slightly, so the kiss fell on her cheek rather than her mouth. I studiously ignored Scott the rest of the evening, although I found my glance fixated on Fiona on occasion.
She spoke little to anyone else and seemed uncomfortable and anxious, as if she felt out of her depth. On occasion, a pained looked crossed her face, and I wondered if Scott’s behavior embarrassed her. I recall thinking she looked out of place beside him—almost too gentle to be associated with him. I wondered then how she could stand to live with someone so unscrupulous—unless she was cut from the same cloth. I knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving. She might come across as sweet, but she could be a coldhearted bitch for all I knew, using the veneer of her softness to her advantage. Wit and charm covered a multitude of sins.
Yet, the woman who had beseeched me a few moments ago—the woman who stood in the cold for hours desperate to talk to me, didn’t seem like a coldhearted bitch. Something in the depths of her tormented green eyes, in the pleading tone of her voice, told me she was honest.
I slid into the car and pushed the button to start the engine, setting the heat high on her side.
“It’ll be warm in a moment,” I assured her.
“Thank you.”
“Where do you live?”
“If you could drop me at the subway, that would be fine.”
I sighed as I clipped my seat belt in place. “It’s raining harder now. I’ll drive you home. Give me the address.”
“Mississauga, Mr. Smithers. It’s a long drive for you. If you drop me at the subway, that would be fine. My, ah, room is a couple of blocks from the stop on the other end.”
“Room?” I asked, confused. Why was she in a room? And why was she out in Mississauga?
Hutchings, as I recalled, lived in a ritzy area of Toronto.
“I went there after Scott—” she swallowed “—after things ended.” She glanced out the window, not meeting my gaze. “I’m staying with a friend.”
“Have you been in contact with him?”
She turned her head, the pain in her eyes evident. “No. He hasn’t returned my calls except to say he is going to cancel my cell phone plan and not pay for it anymore. He kicked me out, Mr. Smithers. Ended our marriage, handed me some money, and drove me to a hotel. He barely gave me time to pack a bag—it was as if he couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. He took away my keys to the house. I was in shock, and I had nowhere else to go, so I’m grateful for Joanne’s generosity.”
For a moment, there was only the purr of the engine and the low hum of the fan in the car as I processed her words.
Whatever had happened, whatever occurred, if she was telling the truth, Scott Hutchings was a complete bastard to his wife. I wasn’t the least bit shocked to discover that, but I wanted the whole story.
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“Hal,” I informed her.
“I’m sorry?”
“I prefer my clients to call me Hal. Not Mr. Smithers.”
“Am I your client now?”
“Come see me on Monday, and we’ll decide.”
Monday morning, I was already in the office when Rene arrived. Today, he was dressed entirely in black, but his vest was a swirl of color, like bright starbursts in the night. A bow tie completed the outfit. His bald head gleamed.
I shook my head. “Did you wax your head? Jesus, you’re going to blind me today.”
He laughed, smoothing his hand over his skull. “The ladies dig it.”
I let his words pass. I wasn’t in the mood to hear stories about his personal life.
He set a coffee on my desk. “You’re here early. Still no sleep?”
Ignoring his question, I indicated the chair in front of me. “I need to talk to you.”
Frowning, he sat. “That sounds ominous.”
“Fiona Hutchings.”
His eyebrows rose. “What of her?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she had been calling?”
“Because she refused to tell me why she was calling. She’s Scott’s wife, and you loathe that man. I couldn’t think of any reason you would want to talk to her. I assumed it was for one of the many charities the various wives in the legal field are involved in. I told her to send a letter.”
I shook my head. “She isn’t looking for a donation. She needs legal advice.” I huffed out a lungful of air. “She’s a potential new client.”
“What?”
“Scott Hutchings removed his wife from their home and is filing for divorce. She’s living in a room in Mississauga and needs representation.” I paused. “My representation.”
“Why didn’t she tell me that? She kept insisting on only talking to you, and she refused to tell me why. I assumed it was personal, and I didn’t think you would want to talk to her, given your feelings for her husband.”
“Soon-to-be ex. You should have put her through, or at least told me and given me the option.”
“You’re slammed, Halton. You’re burning the candle at both ends, and your exhaustion is catching up with you. I was trying to keep her out of your hair. If she had said what it was about, I would have done so, but she refused. I had no idea—I haven’t heard anything about their marriage failing.”
I found that interesting. Rene heard all the gossip. If he hadn’t heard anything, Hutchings had to be keeping this quiet.
I mulled over his words. “From what she said, this hit her out of the blue. I don’t know the whole story yet, but she is lost. Her world got pulled away, and she is having trouble coping—not thinking clearly.” I had seen it many times with other clients. “I think I believe her, but I need to be sure. I need your gossip connections.”
Rene frowned. “I’ll make a few calls.”
“Good. I need it fast. She’s coming in today.”
“When did you meet her?”
I told him the story of the b
ar and her following me. He listened with interest.
“Tenacious,” he murmured.
“Desperate too,” I replied. “If she’s telling the truth, Hutchings handled this all wrong. He, of all people, should know to take the proper steps to end your marriage. You don’t kick someone out of their home and abandon them financially. He’s creating huge problems for himself.”
“Problems you are only too happy to make worse.” Rene smirked.
“I’m looking forward to nailing that bastard to the wall.”
Rene opened his tablet, scanning the screen. “You’re booked solid this morning, and you’re in court this afternoon. When do you plan to fit her in?”
“Get me some info, and if her story pans out, call her and tell her to come in at the end of the day. I should be back by six. I’ll meet her then, get her story, and figure out the next step. I’ll forward you her number.”
He stood. “I apologize, Halton. I should have said something to you.”
I waved his words away. “Let’s see what you find out.”
Rene was back in less than twenty minutes. “She’s telling the truth. It’s hush-hush, but he’s been having an affair. Someone overheard them in his office having an argument. His lover laid down the law. Her or his wife. I guess we know which one he chose. Apparently, there is some grumbling between partners as well. Things are not going smoothly business-wise.”
I stroked my beard, not surprised to hear she was telling the truth. She would have to be a great actress to appear as desperate and anxious as she had been while talking to me. The news about the office was intriguing too.
“It might also explain his sloppy handling of this situation. He’s reacting, not planning. Are you sure your, ah…contact, is telling the truth?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Halton, there is an entire world behind the scenes you know nothing about. Attorneys hang out with attorneys, comparing cases, bragging about their wins, and complaining about their staff. Their staff have their own little community where they complain about all the work they do without recognition for the attorneys and what jackasses most of them are. Of course I’m certain.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You tell people I’m a jackass?”
He smirked. “Of course not. I tell them you’re the youngest curmudgeon I ever met.”
“I’m not a curmudgeon.”
“You can either be a curmudgeon or a jackass.”
“You’re fired.”
“Nope.”
“Fine. Get me a coffee to apologize.”
He chuckled and I grinned. It was how we worked.
“All right. Call Fiona and set her up an appointment for tonight.”
“I’ll call her right away.”
“Maybe get some sandwiches in for us. I’ll be busy all day, so I’ll need something to eat.” Thinking about how slender Fiona was, I thought maybe she would require the food as well. “And a carafe of coffee.”
“You want me to stay?”
I paused, then shook my head. “No. I’ll talk to her and get the notes. We can meet tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what I need. I think she’s—” I searched for the right word “—embarrassed and overwhelmed. The fewer people she has to talk to, the better.”
“Okay. In here or the library?”
I had combined my law library and boardroom into one large chamber. One end held a conference table for meetings, and the other housed the floor-to-ceiling shelves that contained all the reference books I used. I still had many legal tomes, but I mostly used the internet to cite cases. The law books had belonged to a lawyer I considered my mentor and friend. I kept them in his memory—plus, they looked good in the space, very attorney-ish. There was even a ladder on wheels to reach the top shelves. The library was dark wood with thick carpeting, complete with two deep, comfortable chairs with wide arms I could set my laptop on while searching for whatever facts or cases I was looking for. I used the room a lot.
“Library.” I had a feeling she would be more at ease in the welcoming atmosphere of that room. It would keep her calm and focused.
He stood. “On it, boss.” He drew in a deep breath. “I am very sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I heard the name and decided not to add that annoyance to your busy life right now.”
I met his serious gaze. “I know, Rene. You were right to be cautious. Let’s move forward. Next time, let me decide on that, all right?”
He nodded. “Done.”
I walked into the office, silently cursing. Court had run long, and although this time I was successful and my client was happy, it had been a trying day. Today, it was an abused wife fighting for her freedom and trying to start her life fresh with her child. The ex was a brash, arrogant ass who decided that neither of them was worth his time or deserving of his money. The judgment today changed that. We insisted on a lump sum. Once I had the monies for her, she planned to disappear and live somewhere he would never find her. I intended to help her achieve that goal. She was young, still sweet and kind, and I hoped she would find a better life elsewhere.
But now, Fiona Hutchings was sitting in my library waiting for me, and I was over an hour late. Rene glanced up as I strode in. I indicated the library door.
“She in there?”
He stood, straightening his vest. “She is. I explained you were running behind schedule, and she was fine. She said she had her tablet with her and could read until you showed up. I gave her coffee, and we had a chat.”
I lifted one eyebrow. “A chat?”
He nodded. “I apologized to her for my assumptions, and we talked awhile. She is quite lovely.” He shook his head, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. “She is intelligent. Very gracious.” He pondered his next words. “Not what I would have expected from someone married to Scott Hutchings.”
I tilted my head, remaining silent, but we shared a look of understanding. Rene had great instincts. If he trusted someone, then it carried a lot of weight with me.
“Your sandwiches and coffee are in there on the table. Your favorite notebook and pens are on your desk. I started a file in the system and a paper one, which is waiting. Do you need anything else?”
“No, go home. I have my laptop and recorder if I need it.”
“I assumed you did. Call me if you need anything. I’ll lock up behind me.”
“Thanks, Rene.”
In my office, I dropped my coat, gathered my supplies and headed to the other room through the door that connected my office to the library. It opened silently, giving me a moment to study Fiona Hutchings.
She was curled up in one of the deep armchairs, looking small on the expansive cushion. The lamp behind her shone brightly against the dark wood of the walls. Her hair was loose again, the intriguing colors vivid under the light. Her head was down, and she appeared to be engrossed in her book. Except I noticed it hung loosely from her fingers and her hand was slack. I couldn’t hold back my amusement, and a small chuckle escaped my mouth.
She was asleep.
I sat down across from her, being careful to move quietly. Sleep was precious, and I envied her ability to nap. I wished I could do the same thing. My body felt like cement and my thought process slower than normal. I needed some quality time spent being unconscious. I knew I was going to have to give in and take a pill and hope it helped. I disliked the side effects, but it was time.
I watched her for a moment. Long lashes rested on her cheeks, and her mouth was open, her full lips pursed in sleep. Her sweater hung off her frame, and I could see the weariness on her face. She made an odd clicking noise in her throat as she slept—the sound a steady beat to her breathing. It was somehow endearing. The shadows under her eyes were faint blue—like sky peeking out from under a cloud. Her fingernails were chewed, the skin around the cuticles rough and raw. Even in repose, her hands were clenched. If I had any doubts, they dissipated as I studied her. She was in emotional turmoil. I felt an odd stirring within my chest. I wanted to take away her pain and eas
e her stress.
I shook my head. What an odd thought.
I was going to be her lawyer. It was my job to do right by her—and I planned on doing exactly that. I was simply worried about my client’s well-being, as any good lawyer would be.
I cleared my throat and spoke her name.
“Fiona.”
She roused, her head snapping up. She met my gaze, her eyes wide and startled. They were the most brilliant green I had ever seen.
I held up my hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she scrambled to stand. “I am so sorry. I must have drifted off. I haven’t been sleeping well and the chair was comfortable and the office quiet… Oh God, I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive my behavior, Mr. Smithers.”
I frowned. She was apologizing too much for having a little nap. “Not a problem, Fiona. I’m glad you were comfortable enough to relax.” I leaned forward, dropping my voice. “These chairs are great for naps. I’ve had a couple in them as well.” I refrained from saying sometimes it was the only sleep I managed to get. Instead, I winked, easing the tension in the air. “As your attorney, your secret is safe with me.” I sat back, crossing my legs. “And I told you, it’s Hal.”
She sank back into her seat, a long sigh escaping her lips. “Thank you, Hal. Your office is nice. I felt quite…safe here.”
Her words bothered me.
“You don’t feel safe, Fiona?”
Her gaze skittered away. “I’ve been rather anxious.”
“Understandable.” Sensing that was all I was going to get out of her at the moment, I indicated the platter of food on the table across from us. “Why don’t we eat, and then we can discuss your case?”
“Okay.”
I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Great. I’m starving.”
Vested Interest Box Set Books 4-7 Page 53
