While Justice Sleeps

by Stacey Abrams

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fine,” Avery said with a dismissive glance. “I don’t think I need help from the man who is trying to get me fired—if not arrested.”

  “Then take it from the man who will also try to keep you alive.” He dropped the card onto the table. “I can’t do this, but I’m not your enemy. However, you might want to ask yourself who is.” He began to walk away, then turned back to her. “And you should have someone take a look at your head.”

  Avery sat very still until he left.

  * * *

  —

  About twenty minutes later, Noah entered the Starbucks. “Avery? I came right over. You all right?”

  “For now.” She glanced past him out the window.

  “Expecting someone else?”

  “Jared Wynn.”

  “Jared? Okay.”

  Because she needed to tell someone, she added quietly, “While I was at Justice Wynn’s house, I was attacked. Someone struck me on the back of the head and emptied out his safe.”

  “Someone attacked you? Are you okay? Did you call the police?” Noah looked aghast. “You think Wynn’s son was involved?”

  Avery gave a wan smile. “I’m okay except for a raging headache. No, I didn’t call the cops. And I don’t think Jared had anything to do with it, but he might have information to help me figure out who does.”

  “They have people who do that—figure out crimes. They’re called the police.”

  “I don’t want the police involved.” When he started to argue, she gave a shake of her head and almost moaned. “Nonnegotiable.”

  “Then at least go see a doctor.”

  She dismissed the suggestion. “For a bump on the head?” Unless her head actually split open, she had no intention of going anywhere near a hospital as a patient. “I’d spend hours in an emergency room only to get a nurse practitioner who tells me to take aspirin and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Or she’ll tell you that you have a concussion and require observation.” Moving closer, he studied her pupils. “Have you been dizzy or experiencing blurred vision?”

  “No, Dr. Fox,” she said with a grimace. “Nor am I sleepy or dopey.”

  “But you’ve got grumpy down pat.” Without asking permission, he slipped a hand behind her neck and tilted her head forward. “I worked as an EMT in college; let me take a look at the wound.”

  Avery allowed her head to fall forward, hair swinging down to cloak her face. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You appear to have done that quite well,” he retorted. Gently, he probed the swelled area with careful fingers. Blood had caked to the split skin. “Looks like someone hit you with a narrow, hard object—maybe the butt of a gun.”

  “Felt like they used the whole thing,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “Any permanent damage?”

  “Not that I can tell.” Noah eased her head back and again checked her eyes, the focus improving. He sat deeper into the sofa. “What’s going on, Avery?”

  “Did Justice Wynn ever let you see inside the safe?”

  Noah looked at her incredulously. “I was allowed inside the house once, and even then, I was confined to the foyer. What did they steal?”

  “Jewelry, cash, and some files full of notes.” She shook her head and immediately regretted the motion. “I’m trying to figure out who compiled all the information for him. It’s more than what I put together.”

  “Maybe one of your fellow clerks?”

  “I doubt it.” She massaged the nape of her neck, her mind playing through options. “The files contained information relating to several companies. We’ve been working on the GenWorks case against President Stokes, but the files included companies that aren’t part of the suit. You ever do any research for him? Off the books?”

  “Justice Wynn barely trusted me to rewrite the wills he drafted.” He scooted forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Look, I’ve got to ask again. I’ve been a trust and estates lawyer for the absurdly wealthy for six years, Avery. The possibility of inheriting millions of dollars makes people do crazy things. According to the papers, Jared Wynn has become your newest friend, right?”

  Avery’s expression hardened. “Which would give him a reason to attack Justice Wynn, not me.”

  “Except that you’re all that stands between him and his inheritance. It’s all over the news, Avery. Jared knows if you take Justice Wynn off life support, he inherits everything.”

  “Jared got ten million from his mother, according to you. I can’t imagine he’d risk jail simply to get me out of the way.”

  A figure suddenly pulled up a chair and sat across from the cozy sofa. “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Jared said dryly, eyeing Avery. He flicked a glance at Noah. “Who’s he?”

  “Your father’s attorney,” Avery replied. “I asked him to come.”

  Jared felt a tendril of relief that she hadn’t said boyfriend. But the relief quickly died. “You didn’t need the judge’s lawyer to speak to me, Avery. Should I have brought my own?”

  Avery waved the question away. “Of course not. Listen, I asked you both to come because I need information. Fast. Jared, I went to your father’s house, and while I was inside, someone knocked me out. Whoever it was removed all the items in his safe.” She took a sip from her cup. “Who had a reason to steal from him?”

  “Celeste,” both men said in unison.

  Noah looked at Jared suspiciously. “If Jared here didn’t jump you, Celeste has the next-best reason. She’s desperate to learn what’s in his will.”

  “I thought of her too,” Avery said. “But she strikes me as the kind of woman who’d have a lawyer attack me, not a thug. Plus, she’d likely have access to the alarm codes and the safe. Celeste could have taken that material at any time.”

  Avery aimed her next question at Jared: “Justice Wynn had a binder filled with notes on various companies. Based on the names I saw, some of them seem to be related to biogenetics. Companies other than GenWorks and Advar. Was he carrying something like a binder the night he came to see you?”

  The question pricked a memory, and Jared nodded slowly. “Now that you ask, yes. He had a thick black binder with him.” The recollection was followed by a curse.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Avery.

  “He told me he wanted to show me something, but I refused.”

  “Did he tell you what was inside?” Noah interjected.

  “It was that first night at the bar. After a while, he didn’t bring it up again.” Jared paused, then muttered a fresh curse. “I didn’t even look.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  “That’s okay, Jared. We have a place to start.” Not much of one, but she’d take crumbs. “There was a second file in the safe,” she continued.

  Noah held up a hand. “Before we get to the safe, can I take this meeting to mean you’re keeping guardianship? You didn’t seem so sure when you left my office.”

  Avery bit at her lip. “I signed the papers.”

  “Agreements get broken, Avery. We both know that.”

  Jared frowned at her. “Why would you give up guardianship? You didn’t mention that last night.”

  “Last night, I didn’t have reporters camped out on my doorstep and a thousand messages on my phone,” she defended. “Or a stranger offering me half a million to be at his beck and call.”

  “What?” Jared demanded.

  Avery quickly recounted the call and her meeting in the Chief’s office. “So you’ll forgive me for not being sure of what I want to do. Noah and I discussed my alternatives today, and I raised the possibility of placing the chief justice in charge.”

  “Why not me?”

  “She couldn’t,” Noah answered. “Your father made it Avery or Mrs. Turner-Wynn. No one else.”

  “You’re saying he ref
used to allow me to take care of him?” When no one responded, he muttered, “Of course.”

  “Your father is trying to force my hand, Jared. That’s all.”

  He gave her a long, shadowed look. “You’ll do this for him? Deal with being attacked by strangers and harassed by the press?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he asked me to.” Refusing to elaborate, she shifted gears. “Do either of you know what VGC is?”

  “VGC?” Noah repeated. “Never heard of it.”

  Avery glanced over at Jared. “VGC? Ever hear about it from your father?”

  He mulled over the initials, but shook his head. “No, it’s not familiar. What does it stand for?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.” Stymied, she sank against the couch. “The initials were on the list of access codes in the envelope Noah gave me for the house,” she explained, her mind clicking through possibilities. “One set controlled the alarm. I used the second set to open the safe. But the third line of numbers just referred to VGC. There’s nothing at the Court with those initials, and it doesn’t sound like any bank I’ve heard of. We need to figure out what it leads to.”

  “Can I see the paper, Avery?” Jared asked quietly.

  “No.”

  “Come on.” His mouth tightened. “I swear I didn’t attack you, and I don’t plan to steal the codes.” He leaned forward, bringing his face closer, his eyes direct. “I have absolutely no interest in going inside his house, now or ever.”

  “I meant no, you can’t see the paper because whoever hit me stole it from my purse.”

  “So we have no codes and no idea what the codes opened,” Jared summarized. “Or any way to figure out what VGC is.”

  “Actually, I do have the codes.” When both men looked at her expectantly, Avery explained vaguely: “Look, I have a very good memory. If we can figure out what VGC stands for, I can get us in.”

  “Do you have a place for us to start?” Jared wondered, his skepticism obvious. “Or are we shooting in the dark?”

  “I’d say it’s a bit of both,” she confessed, the plan forming as she spoke. Junkies liked to hide their stash and their tools. Part paranoia, part selfishness. She’d learned how to scope out niches and ferret out the contraband. Locating a dying man’s hiding place shouldn’t be any different. “Jared, who has your mother’s belongings?”

  “Why?”

  “VGC is either a personal reference or a professional one. If it’s personal, the best place to start is the beginning. Photos, letters, anything that can give us a hint.”

  The haunted look came and went almost unnoticed. “My aunt Laurette kept most of the boxes the judge sent over. She stored them in the attic at her house in Arlington.” He nodded once. “I’ll head over now.”

  “Noah, I’ll need you to comb through the will and codicils. Look for any beneficiary with those initials. Also, verify that he didn’t have a safe-deposit box at a bank in Virginia. Hell, while you’re at it, try Vancouver or”—she paused, recalling the images of national parks in the corridor—“or any state or federal park with those initials. Look for nearby banks or any property he owned.”

  “You’re talking about hours of work, Avery. Several days of work, really.”

  She raised a brow. “Lowry Kihneman has half a dozen summer associates who are doing sophisticated filing jobs. Assign them to a case that will actually generate billable hours.” Knowing how the process worked, she said the magic words: “I’m authorizing this as Justice Wynn’s guardian. Figuring out VGC has to be our priority. Work fast.”

  * * *

  —

  Avery stepped off the curb outside the coffee shop and lifted her hand for a taxi. A car pulled up, and she climbed inside and gave her destination. Once the cab merged into traffic, she reached for her phone and dialed. “Mrs. Starnes?”

  “Avery?” Debi Starnes snapped her fingers to get Mary’s attention. “Avery, honey, we heard you decided to take a leave of absence while you help Justice Wynn.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Avery confirmed. “My new responsibilities will require most of my time, and with the end of term so near, the Chief agreed that I wouldn’t be missed.”

  “Of course you’ll be missed,” Debi argued loyally. “Why, I was just telling Mary how valuable you were to Justice Wynn. It’s no wonder he asked you to look out for him.”

  No wonder? It’s a complete mystery, Avery thought derisively. “I appreciate the vote of confidence. Please let me know if you hear anything I should worry about.”

  “Will do.” Mary lifted a sheet of paper and jabbed at the words she’d scribbled across it. Debi pursed her lips, deciding if she should tell. When Mary looked close to exploding, Debi caved. “Um, Avery, honey?”

  “Ma’am?”

  She hated delivering bad news. Gossip felt different on the tongue than disaster. “A woman showed up here around lunchtime. Sorta pretty, with dark red hair. Real disheveled though and, uh, a bit hungover, if you get my meaning.”

  Avery braced for the news, her headache reaching a crescendo. “Who was she?”

  “Well, honey, she said she was your mother.” Debi glanced furtively at the Chief’s closed door. “I got the call and told the Chief. They were about to send her away, but with all that’s going on right now, I figured better run it up the chain. The Chief agreed, and they’re in her office chatting up a storm.”

  “Oh, God.” She whispered the oath, too low to carry over the line. Rita and the chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. She’d had this nightmare before, but she’d always woken up. “How long—how long have they been talking?”

  “Maybe fifteen minutes,” Debi replied. “She told the Chief she was worried about you. We all are.”

  The bump on her head began to throb. Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to hold off panic. “Can you put me through?”

  “Interrupt them?”

  “Yes. Right now.” Avery spun through the collection of excuses she’d been building since grade school. Allergies for the glassy eyes. Pneumonia for the waxen face. “Please, Mrs. Starnes.”

  Another hesitation; then: “Hold, please.”

  Avery lined up her stories, checking them for holes. Yes, she had given money to a drug addict last night, but Rita hadn’t given her much of a choice. No, she still had no idea where the $500,000 had come from, except from a man who had called and threatened to ruin her life.

  Before she completed the list, the Chief spoke: “Hello.”

  “Chief.”

  “I believe you know I’m in conference.” The Chief smiled kindly at the bedraggled woman in stained gold satin pants and an oversized shirt buttoned at the wrists. The pallid skin of the once-lovely face showed the ravages of neglect. “How can I help you?”

  “Let me explain anything she’s told you.” Depending on whether she was flying or falling, Rita’s stories either set Avery as a saint or as the ungrateful spawn who threw her away. “She’s a very sick woman, and she’s often confused.”

  “She seems quite lucid to me. I think you should hear what she has to say.” Without waiting for her agreement, Chief Roseborough activated the speakerphone. “Avery.”

  “Oh, Avery!” Rita inched forward on the softly cushioned seat and pitched her voice loud enough to fill the room. The high that had carried her through the night had worn off early that morning, leaving her alert to a world attacking her daughter. She’d gone down to a shelter and showered, then put on her cleanest outfit. The part of her that remembered being normal, being a mother, forced her to board the Metro and come to the Court. One unsteady hand fiddled with the buttons on her cuff. “Were your ears burning, baby?”

  Avery rasped out, “Rita. What are you doing at my job? We talked about this.”

  “I saw the paper and heard those nasty folks
on the television.” Rita reached out a shaky hand for the dainty cup the secretary had placed on the lady judge’s desk. The pale amber contents, some fancy-sounding tea, had been filled with sugar at her request, but she’d been afraid to drink. Afraid she’d spill the tea all over the expensive rug beneath her feet. Afraid she’d forget the speech she’d planned on the ride over. Afraid her body would notice the absence of rum in the drink. But, because her hands needed something to do, she picked up the cup.

  The china bobbled, and Rita used both hands to lift it to her mouth. She took a tentative drink to wet her tongue. “I heard what they said about you, baby, and I had to come and set the record straight.”

  “That’s okay,” Avery pleaded. “I’ve taken care of things.”

  Rita shook her head. “You never could brag about yourself. No, it’s a mother’s job to protect her child.”

  “Rita.”

  The Chief interjected: “Your mother has been quite helpful, Avery.”

  Rita scooted closer to the phone. “I’ve been telling your boss about how smart you are. How honest.” She gulped more of the tea, pleased by the sweet taste, wishing vainly for more of a bite. “Remember when you won that writing award in Tucson? They accidentally gave you a hundred dollars, but you’d only won fifty. You sent them a letter and gave the money back, even though we were about to be evicted.”

  Avery remembered the episode clearly. The raging argument between a tweaked-up cokehead and an eleven-year-old. “It wasn’t my money.”

  “That’s right,” Rita replied proudly, forgetting how she’d threatened and cajoled Avery, trying to keep the cash. “You did what was right.” She focused hard green eyes on the Chief. “My baby always does what’s right, no matter what. Even when folks disappoint her or hurt her. No way she’s whoring around or trying to hurt that sick man. She’s a good girl, my Avery.”

  Chief Roseborough reached out a hand to cover the trembling one on the desk. Tracks jagged along clammy skin that seemed unable to hold warmth. Aloud, she said, “I agree with you, Mrs. Keene. Avery has never given me any cause to doubt her honesty. And, regardless, I make my own judgments.” The Chief lightly squeezed the fragile bones beneath her fingers. “I’ve been around long enough to know not to believe everything I read or hear.”