Disorderly Conduct (The Anna Albertini Files Book 1)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Not at all,” I said, warmth flushing me. “It’s honestly just a scratch. How did you keep mom away?”

  “Mah Jong night,” Tessa said, twirling her drink around in her glass. “Told her to go play and that we’d be here, which we’d be here anyway.”

  Yeah. That was the truth. “I also promised to see the new shrink in town,” I admitted.

  Donna grinned; the wooden spoon half-lifted in the pot. “She’s a very distant relative, a lesbian and is now single, and Grandma Fiona really wants a shrink closer in the family circle and not so distant. Just a warning. She’ll try to fix you up.”

  I snorted. “I like men.” Always had, and if my response to Aiden earlier was any indication, I always would. “She’ll have to find somebody else to bring a shrink closer into the family circle.” Grandma Fiona had been thrilled when cousin Jakob had married a medical doctor from Philadelphia. Now we apparently needed a dentist, shrink, and last I heard, she really wanted a forensic pathologist, too. Sometimes it was better not to ask why. “At least one of the Staperelli kids finally became a priest.” Every Italian family needed a priest. That was almost a law.

  Tess nodded. “That did take the pressure off the Rasetini boys.” They were cousins a few times removed.

  Donna turned down the gas and then moved to toss a spinach salad. “We thought you’d need comfort food.”

  “I do,” I said softly. “Between the DEA raid and then the bullets, it was bad enough today. But…”

  Tess turned toward me, her glass up in the air. “Aiden Devlin.”

  I clinked with her. “Aiden Devlin,” I breathed, my stomach doing a somersault.

  Donna paused with the tossing and turned to study me over her slim shoulder. “How does he look?”

  “Amazing,” I said, sipping now. “Better than I’d imagined. All tough and muscly, and his eyes are somehow even bluer than they were before.” He’d been a cute kid. There was nothing cute about him now. It was all so much better.

  Donna leaned back against the counter. “Aiden has been arrested and charged, though?”

  I nodded and took a deeper drink.

  She sighed. “He was a troublemaker, even back when, and he had to leave town. It makes sense that he’s still breaking the law.”

  I frowned. “He wasn’t part of that theft ring.” He’d been accused of stealing cars, but there hadn’t been proof, and he’d taken off. “You know the sheriff didn’t like him.”

  “For good cause,” Donna argued, her eyes flashing. “I know he saved you, and that matters. But even so, it doesn’t mean he was a good guy or turned out good today.” She rubbed her hands down the apron, her normally smooth brow furrowing. “You don’t owe him anything.”

  That was so untrue the air heated in my throat. “Yes, I do.” I would’ve been raped or killed or both if he hadn’t shown up when he had. “I do owe him, Donna.” In ways I couldn’t even explain. Wasn’t sure I wanted to find the words. “Some things are fundamental, and that’s one of them.”

  Tessa usually stayed out of any family strife, which had earned her the nickname of Switzerland. Yet this time, she shook her head. “I agree with Donna. The entire community was out looking for you, and anybody who’d found that cabin would’ve entered to find you. Aiden just happened to be the one who did.”

  He’d been sixteen years old, and he’d charged inside the cabin and fought with a man twice his age and size without hesitating.

  In my head, in my heart, Aiden Devlin had been my knight in shining denim from that very second.

  Whether or not he now wore an orange jumpsuit. What I was going to do with that information, I had no idea. “I understand you’re worried,” I said, wanting to placate my sisters.

  Donna eyed me. “But?”

  Yeah. But. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. First thing the next day, I was absolutely going to figure everything I could out about his case and the charges against him. Whether or not I was the person supposed to put him away.

  Chapter 6

  Friday morning dawned slightly gray and misty, but the nightmares had left me alone the entire night. It might be because Tessa had stayed over, and she kicked like a purple belt. Tess had always been a kicker. I left her lightly snoring in my bed after dressing in a flowered skirt with white dress shirt and navy-blue jacket, also known as my ‘facing the world’ outfit. The yellow, red, and navy shoes added even more spunk, and by the time I’d driven across town and parked, I was more than ready to face the day.

  I couldn’t decide anything about Aiden until I read the complete case file on him, so at least I had a plan of attack. Since Scot was no doubt out of the office and probably still in DEA custody, there wasn’t anybody to prevent me from investigating.

  I walked into my office and ran smack dab into a seriously hard male body dressed in a way too fancy suit for Timber City. He grasped my arms to keep me from falling, and I looked up into deep brown eyes.

  He released me and took my hand in his. “Nick Basanelli.”

  Yeah. I knew his name. My Italian heritage sat up and sang O Sole Mio. I had to clear my throat to speak. “Hi. Anna Albertini.”

  “Anna Albertini, the youngest of the Albertini three.” His gaze seemed to delve right past my designer armor and into the floundering lawyer I was. I remembered him. He was my sister Donna’s age and had been the biggest football star to ever come out of our small high school.

  I cleared my throat. “Are you looking for me?” Why was Nick Basanelli in my office?

  “Absolutely.” His tone held a warmth that was contagious. He kept my hand in his much larger one as we studied each other. He had true Italian black hair over tawny brown eyes that more than hinted at strength and ambition. His face was strong and straight, his jawline formidable, even with the sweet dimple in the middle of his chin. He filled out his expertly cut suit with a muscled edginess. Yeah. Basanelli had grown up nice. Really nice. “I’ve already talked to the other attorneys and will speak with staff at a meeting later.”

  I frowned and edged around my desk, feeling somewhat more in control with the heavy oak between us. “About what?”

  He gestured toward my seat, and I sat. Then he sat. Ah, his mama would be happy with his manners. “The governor appointed me as the county’s prosecuting attorney while Scot Peterson is on…leave.”

  I blinked. “You’re a lawyer?”

  “Yes. Was in the JAG Corps and then private practice in Boise. Now it looks like I practice criminal law on the state level.” He smiled, small lines crinkling at the corners of his intelligent eyes.

  Man, I bet juries loved this guy. He’d been in the military? Interesting choice for one of the wild Basanelli boys. Yet our small department seemed like a step down for him. Unless—it was just another step. Military experience, private practice experience, and now criminal law with what looked to be a big case? “Planning to run for office, are you?” I blurted out. Our state attorney general was definitely getting up there in age, and a high-profile drug case could make or break a career.

  Nick’s eyebrows rose. Those bourbon colored eyes narrowed and then twinkled. “I’d heard you were smart.”

  Pleasure filtered through me, and I bashed it away. Smart girls weren’t so easily charmed. “I haven’t heard much about you.”

  His smile was full-on this time. “I’m sure you can change that fact with one phone call.”

  I couldn’t help but return the grin, because he was correct. One call to one of my grandmothers, and I’d know everything about Nick Basanelli to the point of his favorite ice-cream. When you’re from Silverville, you’re from Silverville. “What’s going on with Scot’s case?” I asked, trying to sound professional and not like the entire world had gone crazy.

  Nick studied me for several moments, heating parts of me that should so not be heated at work. “Scot has been trafficking drugs, including meth, for the last five years, according to the DEA. He’s going to be charged federally, and we’re going to take him
down for possession and distribution on the state level—for starters.”

  For starters? What else had Scot been doing? “Are you sure?” I whispered. While I had only known Scot for a little over a month, he seemed like an okay guy to me. Dedicated to the job and all of that.

  “Yes,” Nick said. He sat back in the chair, looking like he owned the room, even though it was my office.

  “Since Scot is being tried federally, why not save the state taxpayers money and just let the federal prosecutor deal with him?” It seemed unnecessary to have both federal and state investigations and trials.

  “The case is related to Aidan Devlin’s, which is a state case. I want them both.”

  Out of pure instinct, I settled into poker mode the second Nick said Aiden’s name. My expression smoothed out, and I forced myself to breath naturally. Then I watched him watch me for a reaction. The silence drew out until he stopped smiling and looked at me as if finally seeing me. With contemplation and something else. Something heated. Scalding hot. Interested.

  “You let Devlin go free yesterday,” he said softly.

  My chin lifted just enough to show he’d hit nerve. “There was nothing in the case file I received to argue otherwise.” Which was the absolute truth. “Do you have the complete case file?”

  “Not yet.”

  Well then. Ha.

  He exhaled slowly. “Here’s the deal. You’re the only attorney here without a long-time connection with Scot. That makes you the only person I trust and the second chair on both cases. If you have a problem with that, speak up now.”

  My mouth dried up. I’d won the match, but the war was in his hands, and we both knew it. He was talking about a felony case. A serious one. “I don’t even have misdemeanor trial experience.” Any trial experience. Heck. Any real motion practice experience. “I’m green as green gets, Nick.”

  “I’m a good mentor,” he said smoothly, his tone licking right across my skin, not hiding the innuendo in the slightest. Great. He’d gone from flirty to intent. Apparently, the guy liked smart girls.

  I’d worked hard to banish ‘um’ from my vocabulary in preparation for trials, but one slipped out anyway.

  He pounced on the weakness like a hawk spotting a field mouse. “I know your history with Devlin, but the past is in the past. He’s a criminal, Anna. Your job is to put criminals away, and we both know why you went into this area of law.”

  “Do we?” I murmured, lowering my chin just enough.

  He nodded, deadly serious. “You didn’t get justice, so you’re seeking it for others. I’ve seen it before.” He stood and loomed over the desk. “What you don’t know, is that I take very good care of my friends. Of my colleagues. I’ll get you what you want.”

  I frowned. Was that a come on? A promise for a job in Boise at some point? “What exactly do I want?”

  His gaze was fierce but his tone oddly gentle. “I have connections all across the world. You want to know where the guy who got away with kidnapping you is and what he’s doing this very day? I can find Jareth Davey for you. I promise.” He turned and walked out of the room, not waiting for a response.

  Which was a good thing, because I couldn’t speak. Not a word.

  My mind couldn’t let go of Nick’s remarks for the remainder of the morning. Jareth Davey was a lingering shadow in my life from the second he’d kidnapped me. After the trial, he’d disappeared, but even now, I looked over my shoulder sometimes. He’d be around forty years old and probably was as crazy as ever. Considering he still sent me cards every year for the anniversary and for Christmas, he hadn’t forgotten about me. I shivered.

  Enough. I had to get out of the office, and I kept my head down as I hurried past the receptionist and into the spring day. For an early lunch, I bought a turkey sandwich at McQuirk’s Deli next to the courthouse and wandered around the park, past several of the college buildings, and down to the weathered picnic tables skirting the lake. Clouds gathered above and turned the water a deep gray, but the breeze was still somewhat warm.

  As planned, I found my cousin Pauley O’Shea perched on a table, slightly hunched over, a bag of breadcrumbs in his hand as he faced a gaggle of ducks at the water’s edge. Nobody else was around yet. Gingerly, I sat my butt on the table, careful not to slide on the rough wood and rip my skirt. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” His long fingers slid into the bag, and he tossed crumbs at the squawking birds. The breeze lifted his thick brown hair, and I glanced at his thin shirt and pants. He should have on a coat, but I didn’t mention that yet.

  Instead, I nodded toward a sign pounded into a nearby tree that said, ‘Don’t Feed the Birds.’ “You’re breaking the rules.”

  He threw another handful, rocking slightly, not looking at the sign or at me. “Nobody will yell at me.”

  Probably true. “How was your first week of summer classes?”

  “Same as last semester, which was my first semester in college.” He watched the birds for a few more minutes. “Everyone is old, and it’s boring.” He rocked back and then forward. “I am smarter than the teacher.”

  “You’re smarter than almost everybody,” I said absently. At sixteen years old, in college, he was probably the youngest in the classes. Was that going to be a problem?

  “Are you checking on me?” he asked, his neck rolling fractionally.

  I nodded. “Sure. I also like talking to you, which you know.” He was Lacey O’Shea’s younger brother, and the closest person I had to a brother. I reached for the bag.

  “No.” He pulled it away. “You will get in trouble.”

  I snorted. “Because I’m not autistic?”

  “Yes. I get away with stuff.” His lips twitched with almost a smile.

  That was true. Pauley was autistic with savant qualities, and he used it to his advantage once in a while. “Well, I’m pretty,” I said slowly. “I could charm my way out of trouble.”

  “You are not charming.” Pauley tilted his head a fraction, his expression thoughtful, even as he stared straight ahead. Then he held the bag out to me, barely shifting his weight to do so. “Though you are pretty.”

  I grinned and took a handful. “Why aren’t I charming?”

  “How should I know?” He moved the bag to his other side. “Charming people are smooth. You are not smooth. You are fun and lively and goofy. I like you better than charming.”

  Everything inside me went gooey and warm. “Thank you.”

  He almost shrugged. “Just telling the truth.” Then he paused. “Lacey was in a shootout in Detroit yesterday.”

  I blinked. “What? I hadn’t heard that yet. Is she okay?” My heart kicked up several notches.

  “Yes. I think she shot the other guy, but she is not giving full details yet.” Pauley shook out the bag so the bread bounced around.

  While I’d become a lawyer to fight the bad guys, Lacey had gone ahead and become a cop. A pint sized one with a tough attitude. We video-conferenced at least once a week. I swallowed. “I wish she’d come home and get a job somewhere around here.” For some reason, she wanted big city experience first.

  “Me too,” Pauley murmured. “Heard you got shot, too.”

  “Barely,” I said, leaning cautiously back on my hands. The tabletop scraped my palms, but the wood was cool. “Aiden Devlin saved me.”

  Pauley nodded. “I heard. No secrets if you’re from Silverville, even though it’s fifty miles away. Fifty miles. Fifty is a gold wedding anniversary. Fifty.” He quickly looked at me sideways for the first time since I sat down. Then he focused at something across the lake. “Is he good or bad now?”

  So apparently news of Aiden’s incarceration had hit the streets. “I don’t know. In fact, I’m not sure what to do. I want to help him, but it might be my job to put him back in jail.” The words poured out of me before I could stop them, and I cut off abruptly. This was too intense for a sixteen-year-old to listen to. “Sorry. That sounded like a confession.”

  Pauley threw more bread, hi
s arm movement jerky. “I am not a priest,” he agreed.

  Humor took me. “True. What do you think Father Hamlet would say?”

  Pauley scratched his head, his profile pale. “Probably to follow the law. Though laws, like the bible, were written and interpreted by men. Good and bad go deeper than words on paper. Any paper.”

  I stilled. Sometimes Pauley’s genius took me off guard, even though I’d known him his entire life. I had no doubt he’d do another year at the local college and then head off to Harvard or MIT or somewhere for geniuses. His social interactions were becoming pretty good, too. Sometimes I wished I could just get into his head and see how it all worked. From day one, Pauley had fascinated me. “Maybe I should help Aiden.” How? I just wasn’t sure.

  Pauley flipped his wrist over to check his watch and then returned his focus to the birds. “If you do not know if Aiden is good or bad, you do not know whether to help him or not. Find out.”

  I bit my lip. Clarice still hadn’t gotten back to me with any answers or more records, but there was one place I could go and try to get answers. It was probably a bad idea—definitely a bad idea—but when had that stopped me? “You’re right.” I hoped off the table. Everything inside me wanted to hug my cousin or at least give him a peck on the cheek, but that’s what I wanted and not what he needed. Like many folks on the spectrum, Pauley didn’t like being touched. “Thanks, P.”

  He nodded, still not looking at me. “Thank you for checking on me. After class my mom is picking me up to go shopping for shoes before going home. Tell my sister that I am fine.”

  I grinned. “You’ve got it. Have a nice rest of the day.”

  He frowned. “History class is next. I already know what happened before now.”

  Yeah. He probably did. “Well, if nothing else, you’ll learn that history repeats itself,” I joked.

  He didn’t smile. Then he turned and looked at me, full on. Sometimes I forgot how deep and dark his brown eyes were since he rarely made eye contact. “Does it?” He broke his gaze free and looked back at the far shoreline.