by Brad Meltzer
With a quick flourish at the keyboard, Jared wrote back, “No way. If we have this place searched, Rafferty will know something’s up. I say we play it safe until the trial.”
Typing in her one-finger-at-a-time mode, Sara wrote, “But my typing sucks.”
Jared laughed to himself. This was what he missed. He put his hand on the back of Sara’s head and pulled her toward him. Ever so slightly, he kissed the side of her forehead. Then her cheek. Then her earlobe. With his lips brushing against her ear, he whispered, “I really do love you.” As he worked his way down the side of her neck, he slowly undid the top buttons of her blouse.
Closing her eyes, Sara was ready to lose herself in the moment. Suddenly, though, it hit her. Pulling away, she typed, “Forget it. Not while they’re listening.”
“They’ll never hear,” Jared typed back.
“That’s right,” Sara typed. “They won’t.”
“Are you serious?”
Sara pounded out nothing but an exclamation point.
“Fine, I’ll just sit here and suffer,” Jared typed. “Here I am suffering. I’m suffering. I’m suffering.” He paused. “I’m still suffering.” When Sara slapped him on the back, he wrote, “What else happened at work? Any news?”
“Not yet,” Sara typed. “Tomorrow.”
When Sara and Jared had sat down to start typing, neither of them noticed that their desk had been moved about a quarter of an inch to the right. They didn’t notice the additional upward tilt of their computer monitor or the brand-new splitter and extra wire that had been connected to the main monitor cable. And they certainly didn’t notice the way the split wire ran behind the desk and into a perfectly drilled hole in their wall. Or how that wire snaked its way down alongside the gas furnace’s vent pipe, which led directly to the basement. When it reached the basement, the wire connected to another monitor. And on that monitor, he read every word Jared and Sara typed.
Early Tuesday morning, Sara stepped onto the elevator with her shoulders back and her chin high. Darnell took one look and smiled. “My, oh, my, you must be eating those Wheaties,” he said. “You got the look of a champion.”
“That’s my secret,” Sara said.
As the elevator doors were about to shut, a young man wearing a short-sleeve dress shirt jumped inside. Sara instantly recognized him as the man who not only delivered the booking sheets to ECAB but had also originally suggested that she steal Victor’s case.
“What’s up, Darnell?” he asked. “Any good rumors I should…Hey,” he added as soon as he saw Sara. “Nice to see you again.”
“You two know each other?” Darnell asked.
“In a way,” Sara said. Extending her hand, she added, “Officially, by the way, I’m Sara.”
“Malcolm,” he said as the elevator doors closed. “So how’s that case working out? Was I right, or was I right?”
“You said it first: It certainly was a winner.”
“Of course it was a winner. You wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t.”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “What’re you talking about?”
“You know, the case.”
“What about the case?”
Malcolm fell silent. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. I thought you guys had already spoken.”
“About what? Who’re you talking about?”
Malcolm looked over at Darnell, then back to Sara. They were both staring at him. “Listen, I’m done with this one. My mouth isn’t big enough for two feet.”
“Malcolm…”
“No, no, no, it’s not going to work. If you’re having problems, go bother Victor.” As the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, Malcolm stepped out. “I’ll see you later, Sara. Later, Darnell.”
When the doors slammed shut, Darnell asked, “You okay? You look Casper.”
“Just get me to the next floor,” Sara said. “Fast.”
Rushing out of the elevator and straight to her office, Sara pulled open a desk drawer and took out one of her old legal pads. Keep it together, she told herself. Don’t get lost. Just figure out the hows and whys. Mentally replaying the conversation with Malcolm, she scrutinized every syllable. You wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t. I would not have gotten it. She flipped through the legal pad and stopped on a clean sheet. Once again, she asked herself: Why would Victor want this case? Carefully and methodically, she went through all her old answers: Because he knows Kozlow, because he hates Kozlow, because he wants to punish Kozlow.
Damn, she thought. It was right there the entire time. From the very first day, he was preying on her weakness. Shutting her eyes, she tried to fill in the rest. Finally, it started to make sense. As her fists tightened, she could feel the rage working its way up the back of her neck. She didn’t bother to fight it. “You son of a bitch!” she screamed as she threw her legal pad against the wall. “How could I be so stupid?”
Slamming the door to her office, Sara flew down the hallway, ignoring everyone in sight. Without knocking, she threw open Victor’s door.
“Come in,” Victor said, looking up from his desk.
Sara was fuming.
“I take it there’s a problem?”
“You knew, didn’t you?” Sara asked.
“I’m sorry, do you want to tell me what we’re talking about?”
“Don’t play bewildered with me. You knew the whole time, didn’t you? That first day we met in the elevator, you knew exactly who I was. You knew my name, my background, everything there was to know about me. And most important, you knew how hungry I was for a case.”
“Sara, I have no idea what you’re—”
“It wasn’t even that hard to plan, was it? Once you gave Malcolm a good enough excuse, all you had to do was find a big enough sucker. Someone who would do a good job, but still be easy to influence. Someone who was aggressive, but still too naive to suspect anything. Someone who was vulnerable. And desperate. And would take the case. Someone like me.”
“You’ve got yourself quite a story there.”
“This whole time I’ve been kicking myself for being so stupid. For being so greedy. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there, Victor? I didn’t steal that case on my own. You set me up and made sure I got it.”
Sitting behind his desk, Victor let out the tiniest of smirks.
“I can’t believe it,” Sara said. “Why? Why didn’t you keep it for yourself?”
“As I’ve always said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But that Kozlow’s quite a handful, isn’t he?”
Sara clenched her teeth. “You’re a real bastard, Victor.”
“Even if I am, I’m one with far fewer headaches.”
“Are you sure about this?” Conrad asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“What’s to make sense?” Sara said. “It’s Victor.”
“So let me get this straight—you’re saying that when you were in ECAB that first day, Victor not only knew Malcolm was going to deliver that case, but he had already told Malcolm to make sure that you stole it?”
“Exactly.”
“But if Victor didn’t want the case, why not just give it away? And if he wanted it prosecuted, no offense, but why give it to you? Why not give it to me or someone with experience?”
“Because he never wanted Kozlow or Rafferty to know that he didn’t want it.”
“So now you don’t think Victor buries cases?”
“No, I just think he didn’t want to bury this case.” Seeing Conrad’s confused look, she added, “Let me start over. I’m still convinced that Victor’s playing in some fishy ponds. I think he has a few wealthy clients who pay him a great deal of money to bury easy-to-miss cases, and I think he’s as dirty as they come. Now what I’m willing to bet happened here is that one of Rafferty’s big-shot friends told Rafferty about Victor. And when Kozlow got arrested in this case, Rafferty quickly went crying to Victor. The thing is, Victor’s not stupid. He knows his
little game only works if everything can be kept quiet. And as we know, Kozlow is to quiet as, well…as a raging maniac is to quiet.”
“So Victor tells Rafferty to take a hike.”
“Exactly. But Rafferty’s also not stupid. Now that he knows Victor’s dirty secret, he threatens to blow the whistle on Victor if Victor doesn’t do a little magic. Naturally, Victor doesn’t want to bury the case because he knows he’ll be risking his own neck, but he can’t give it away, because Rafferty’ll play snitch. Now Victor’s faced with a problem: How does he get rid of a case without looking like he’s getting rid of a case?”
“He has someone steal it from him.”
“Starting to sound familiar?”
Conrad stood from his seat and looked out his window. “It’s actually pretty ingenious on Victor’s part.”
“The man’s a power player. He’s not going to risk his career on someone like Kozlow. This way, all he has to do is pretend he’s pissed off. Then he tells Rafferty and Kozlow it’s out of his control. Maybe he does a few more favors—like passing information and taking a few photos—and they’re convinced he’s on their side.”
“So all the times he’s been checking up on you…”
“He’s either reporting it to Rafferty, or just making sure I don’t stumble on his other cases.”
Turning away from the window, Conrad said, “There’s still one thing I don’t understand. For Victor to know that you were coming in that afternoon, someone had to tell him. Besides you and Jared…”
“There was only one other person who knew where I was.”
At that moment, Guff walked into Conrad’s office. “What’s wrong with the two of you?” Guff asked. “You look Casper.”
“We’re fine. I’m fine,” Sara blurted. “It’s nothing.”
“Listen, if you guys want to touch tongues again, be my guest.”
“Stop with that already,” Conrad said. “It’s not funny.”
“Guff, can you actually excuse us for a moment?” Sara said.
“Why? What’s the big secret?”
“Now,” Conrad said.
“Okay, okay, it’s a private moment—I understand.” Guff headed for the door. “Just don’t take it out on me. I’m on your side.”
As the door shut, Sara looked over to Conrad. “Please don’t tell me it’s him.”
“It’s not,” Conrad said. “I’ve known that kid since the day he started here. He doesn’t have it in him.”
“I don’t care how long you’ve known him. Nothing else makes sense. He’s the one who brought me to ECAB in the first place. I mean, I wouldn’t have even walked in there if it wasn’t for him.”
“Sara, he was doing you a favor.”
Now she was sweating. “Oh, God—then that means Rafferty knows Jared and I have been talking.”
“Not a chance. No one knows anything.”
“Then how do you explain—”
“I don’t need to explain,” Conrad insisted. “I know Guff. And more important, I trust him. He’d never do that to you.”
“You can trust people all you want,” Sara said. “It still doesn’t mean they’re not going to put a knife in your back.”
Sara didn’t get home until eight-thirty that evening. Heading straight for the bedroom, she could hear the quiet clicking of Jared at the keyboard. He had already typed, “Hi, honey. How was your day?” But when he turned around and saw his wife, he added, “What happened?”
Putting up a finger to signal “Hold on a second,” Sara, in her best annoyed tone, said, “Do you mind hanging out in the living room? I have some work to do in here.”
“Do whatever you want,” Jared shot back. He got up and stormed out of the room. He turned on the TV in the living room and then quietly returned to the bedroom. Over Sara’s shoulder, he read, “I think Guff may be on the other side of this. As far as I can tell, he took me to ECAB that first day for a reason.”
Taking the keyboard, Jared wrote, “That’s not a small accusation, Sara. If I were you, I’d double-check every detail before I wrecked that relationship.”
Realizing her husband was right, Sara wrote, “Do we have a calendar?”
“In my briefcase,” Jared typed. “My organizer.”
Sara opened Jared’s briefcase and found his small electronic organizer. Pushing the button marked “Calendar,” she saw the date as well as Jared’s to-do list appear on the screen: “Call jury expert. Finish direct. Call printer.” Using the “Up” key, she then scrolled back to Monday, September eighth—her first day on the job. But when the day came up on the screen, Sara’s heart sank. There was only one item on Jared’s to-do list for that day: “Call V.S.” Under the initials was a phone number. Sara recognized the number’s 335 prefix—it was a number in the DA’s office. She took another look at the initials. V.S. Victor Stockwell.
Sara glanced up at Jared. Then back at Victor’s number. It couldn’t be.
By the time she turned back to Jared, he was staring at her. He silently mouthed the question “You okay?”
Sara nodded as she closed the organizer. It wasn’t Guff at all. It was Jared. Feeling her legs go numb, she made her way back to the computer.
On the screen, Jared had written the question “What did Guff do that made you so suspicious?”
Fighting her hands from shaking, Sara typed back, “Nothing. Just a feeling.”
Chapter 17
“I TOLD YOU IT WASN’T GUFF,” CONRAD SAID THE FOLLOWING morning. “I said it yesterday. I knew it couldn’t be him.”
“I don’t really care about Guff,” Sara said, her voice completely drained of energy. Her arms were folded on her desk and her head rested on them. She hadn’t looked up since she told Conrad the story. “I need your help with Jared. I mean, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not him.”
“What’re you talking about? Of course it’s Jared.”
She kept her head on her desk. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Slowly, she felt her stomach start to turn. It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening.
“Sara, are you okay?”
Feeling as if the wind were knocked out of her, she said nothing. This wasn’t some distant friend. Or a new coworker. This was her husband. She was supposed to know everything about him. Everything. That was what she’d told herself last night to coax herself to sleep. And that was how she initially talked herself out of Conrad’s conclusion. But the closer she looked, the more she found details she couldn’t ignore. When he wanted to be, Jared was more manipulative than anyone she knew. In the last month alone, she had seen that firsthand. And the call to Victor—that was the only way Victor could’ve known she was coming. Over and over, Sara ran through the facts, and whether she trusted Jared or not, she knew there wasn’t going to be an easy answer. “How?” she finally asked Conrad. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does,” Conrad said. “I’ve seen Jared operate. He may act all squeaky clean, but he’s as scheming as the rest of us. That’s why he peeked in your briefcase. From the moment he told you about Rafferty, I said you should watch your back.”
“You only said that because you’re jealous of him.”
Conrad glared at Sara as his voice took on a more serious tone. “I just think there’s something he’s hiding.”
“Why, though? He hates Rafferty.”
“I agree with that. But that doesn’t mean Jared’s not working with Victor. One thing has nothing to do with another.”
Once again, Sara felt her stomach start to turn. “But why would he possibly do that to me?”
“Does he have anything to be embarrassed about in his past? Maybe he and Victor bury cases together—Jared lines up the clients, Victor makes them disappear. Or maybe he’s being blackmailed. Maybe he’s taking revenge for something you did to him. For all we know, he completely set you up in Brooklyn that night.”
“Stop it,” Sara said, raising her voice. “It’s impossible. None of those things are true.”
>
“Sara, I know this is hard, but you can’t just shut your eyes and hope it all has a happy ending. Take off the blinders and deal with the problem.”
“I am dealing with it.”
“No. You’re not,” Conrad said. “If you were, you would’ve already stepped into his personal space and asked him why he was calling Victor in the first place.”
Sara knew he was right. She should’ve asked as soon as she found the phone number. “It’s not as easy as you think.”
“Just call him. If he says he’s never spoken to Victor, we’ll know he’s lying.”
Sara reached across her desk and picked up the phone. Seven numbers later, she heard Jared’s phone ring. “C’mon, I know you’re there,” she muttered. “Pick up the damn phone.”
“Mr. Lynch’s office,” Kathleen answered.
“Hi, Kathleen. It’s me. Is he in?”
“I’ll check. Hold on a second.”
Unable to stop fidgeting, Sara stood up. But Conrad grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her down again.
After a moment, she heard, “Sara?”
“Do you have a minute?” Sara asked, trying her best to sound calm.
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just have a quick question. Do you know a guy named Victor Stockwell?”
“I told you before—only by reputation. Why?”
“Have you ever spoken to him on the phone?”
There was a short pause on the other end. “No. Why?”
Sara looked up at Conrad and shook her head. “Jared, is anyone in your office?”
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need you to answer this question. Have you ever spoken to Victor?”
Jared didn’t say a word.
“Please, honey, you can tell me,” Sara said.
“I haven’t,” he insisted. “Why do you—”
Before he could finish the question, Sara hung up. She felt a piercing pain in her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Conrad said. He put his hand back on her shoulder.
