by Marcia Clark
There was that. Not one word was said about my having hired Parkova without prior approval.
When Declan and I were safely behind the closed door in my office, we exchanged views.
“What an asshat,” Declan said.
“A real chowderhead,” I added. “But I’ve been meaning to ask you what you made of that book.”
“The fairy tales?” he said. I nodded. “Did you read the notes in the margins?”
I had. “I’ve got my theory,” I said. “But I want to hear yours.”
“That was Tommy’s inspiration for Wonderland Warriors,” Declan said. “Nothing specific, but I saw the movie. Did you?”
“No. But I heard it was part fairy tale.”
“It was. And his notes had some of the ideas that wound up in the movie.”
“But it wouldn’t have been enough to prove he wrote the screenplay,” I said.
“No. But it is for me. I’m glad I got to see it.”
What you know and what you can prove. They can be very different things. “Me too.”
“Well, I’ve got a stack of case files screaming my name,” Declan said. He stood to go, but paused at the door. “I…just want to thank you for writing that note to my folks.”
I’d written to tell them what a talented lawyer Declan was and that his star was going to rise quickly in the office. “I just told ’em the truth.”
Declan gave me a long look that acknowledged another truth: I’d also done it to give his father a wake-up slap. “Thank you, Rachel.”
After Declan left, I thought about all the fathers in this case.
Nietzsche said, “When one has not had a good father, one must create one.” This case proved it in ways even Nietzsche might not have predicted. Brian wanted not only to vindicate his father, but also in some measure to justify his father’s suicide, by proving he’d written the screenplay that launched Russell’s empire. Hayley wanted to create an honorable father by forcing him to admit his misdeed and give the credit where it was due. And Declan, whether he was aware of it or not, had taken a civil service job that was all heart and small pay, in part to force his father to accept him on his own terms—in essence, to create the loving father he needed.
And as for me, what was a prosecutor if not someone who stood up and fought back against the predators of the world? Only now, during this case, had I fully understood how the lessons I’d thought of as games were actually my father’s way of teaching me how to fight back—both physically and emotionally. “Never hesitate, Rachel. Always shoot to kill,” he’d said. I now saw that in becoming a prosecutor, I’d put his lessons, his final gift to me, to good use. And so I had found the good father I thought had abandoned me.
With the trial over, my fatigue hit me like a brick wall. I needed some serious R and R. I’d racked up an impressive amount of comp time and I intended to use it. Bailey said she planned to do the same. Graden had offered to kick off our vacation with a dinner for everyone—including Declan and his plus one—at his place.
“Declan, you’ve never had better cooking,” I said. “You’ve got to—”
“I’m in, you don’t have to sell me. It sounds perfect. And besides, a good meal will be a refreshing change. My cooking skills end with Top Ramen.”
Toni’s trial wrapped up just in time—with a conviction of course—and she and J.D. were picking up Bailey and Drew.
I got there early, intending to help—or at least put out the hors d’oeuvres. But Graden was all set. He asked what I was drinking.
“What are you having?” It looked good. Cool and refreshing. At six o’clock it was still fairly warm outside.
“Ketel One and soda with a lime.”
“I’ll have the same.”
We took our drinks out to the patio and shared a lounge chair. The ocean air was fresh but still warm, and the fading sunlight bounced a golden light off the water of the infinity pool. It was heavenly. We sat in silence for a while and enjoyed the view of the ocean.
“I did thank you for Parkova, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Repeatedly.” Graden chuckled.
“She was a great witness.” I told him how she’d handled Terry’s question about her fabricating the original ransom note.
Graden laughed as he shook his head. “Only Parkova.”
Then I remembered what I’d been meaning to ask. “What does the ‘M’ stand for?”
“You promise never to tell? She’ll definitely hunt me down and kill me.” I promised. “Miriam.”
This was the big state secret? “She can change it legally if she’s that twizzled about it.”
“Legal isn’t really her thing, but I’ll let her know.” Graden paused. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”
I waited.
“I thought it might help if we let Parkova track those reports Lilah sent you—”
My nemesis, who’d almost gotten Bailey and me killed. And who’d sent me previously undiscovered reports on my sister, Romy.
“But I thought you already checked them out and they were legit?”
“They are. I’m not talking about that part. I’m talking about having Parkova see if she can track down Lilah by seeing how those reports were accessed.”
The sheer poetic justice of having the genius hacker go after the brilliant sociopath brought a smile to my face.
“It’s brilliant. I love it.”
The doorbell rang and we went to answer it. Declan was there with a tall, sandy-haired surfer-looking type whom I knew very well.
“Kevin Jerreau!” I said. “I haven’t seen you in…a year?”
Kevin and I had been baby DAs together, and friends ever since. He’d helped me on a case a couple of years ago involving the murder of my dear friend and fellow prosecutor Jake Pahlmeyer.
We hugged. “Your fault, not mine,” Kevin said.
I looked from Kevin to Declan. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“He taught my evidence class in law school,” Declan said.
Kevin smiled. “Actually, I’m the one who suggested Declan try clerking at the DA’s office.”
“Then I have you to thank yet again,” I said.
Graden took the drink orders, and as he went to prepare them, J.D.’s car rolled up and the four of them—J.D., Toni, Bailey, and Drew—descended on us.
It was a magical night, with laughs, great stories, and the best steaks I’d ever had. Declan and Kevin were the first to leave.
I looked at them knowingly. “You’ve got another party to get to.”
“No,” Declan said.
“Yes,” Kevin said.
But Toni, J.D., Drew, and Bailey weren’t far behind them. As I walked them out to the car, I hugged Bailey and Toni and told them we had to make plans. “You’re taking some time off, aren’t you?” I asked Toni.
“Oh, yeah.” She leaned in and whispered, “Listen, if you dare go home tonight, I will personally make your shrink appointment.”
I grinned. “No appointments necessary.”
As I waved good-bye, Bailey and Drew gave me a smile.
Then Graden put his arm around me and we walked back inside. And closed the door.
Acknowledgments
Scientific advancement offers opportunities to both sinners and saints, and so the new frontier of cyberspace has proven to be both the gift and the bane of our existence. But the world of computer crime is a complex one and its depiction requires specific expertise that I do not possess. For the computer-related crime in this story I was fortunate enough to be able to call upon a true expert: Gregg Housh. My undying gratitude goes to Gregg for the time he took to answer my endless questions and for the fascinating background he provided about the world of cyberspace crime.
The DNA testimony in this story was reviewed for technical accuracy by Barry A. J. Fisher, former crime laboratory director for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department and current senior forensic adviser for the Department of Justice International Crimi
nal Investigative Training Assistance Program. My profound thanks go to Barry for his help.
All credit for the accuracy of the computer crime and DNA aspects of this story goes to Gregg Housh and Barry Fisher. All credit for the errors goes to Yours Truly.
Once again, I am forever indebted to Catherine LePard. I would never have taken the leap into novels had it not been for her. To Marillyn Holmes, I again thank you for your excellent help, keen eye, and knowledge. To beloved friends Lynn Reed Baragona and Hynndie Wali, who are still performing the yeoman task of keeping me sane.
I love you all!
Dan Conaway, I will never stop marveling at my ridiculous luck in having you for an agent. Please believe me when I say I’m grateful for you every single day. And to fantastic assistant Stephen Barr, you are such a pleasure. What a team! I couldn’t love you more.
My deepest thanks to wonderful editor in chief Judy Clain, and CEO Michael Pietsch. I am so fortunate to be working with you. And thank you to the new, fabulous assistant Amanda Brower, a rising star. To senior production editor Karen Landry for saving me from myself yet again—thank you, Karen, for another great job.
To the publicity all-star team, Nicole Dewey, Sabrina Callahan, Miriam Parker—aka, my buds—and to all the wonderful people at Mulholland Books, a million thanks to you for all your hard work, creativity, and brilliance.
About the Author
Marcia Clark is the author of Guilt by Association and Guilt by Degrees. A former prosecutor for the state of California, she is now a frequent media commentator on legal issues. She lives in Los Angeles.
marciaclarkbooks.com
Books by Marcia Clark
Killer Ambition: A Rachel Knight Novel
Guilt by Degrees: A Rachel Knight Novel
Guilt by Association: A Rachel Knight Novel
Short Stories
Trouble in Paradise: A Rachel Knight Story (ebook only)
If I’m Dead: A Rachel Knight Story (ebook only)
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2013 by Marcia Clark
Cover design by Allison J. Warner, cover photograph by Hans Neleman/Getty Images
Author photograph by Claudia Kunin
Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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First ebook edition: June 2013
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ISBN 978-0-316-22091-0
