This is stupid. I’m not a legal guru. Just a weird idea…
“Well?” he prompted.
She broke eye contact. “Let’s say it is about money, but not about Josh’s.”
He slanted a brow.
“What if it’s about Ben’s money?”
“Go on.”
“Who would benefit from Ben being accused?” When he opened his mouth to reply, she hurried on. “I know you are convinced that by digging deep enough into Josh’s affairs we’ll find the killer, but why not focus on Ben?”
With a frown on his face, he leaned back, drumming his fingertips on the countertop. “As in framing Ben? Why would someone go so far to frame Ben?”
Roxie crossed her arms. “Well…yeah. There’s hardly any physical evidence.”
“What there is, it does point, unfortunately, to Ben.”
“True. But there is much more speculation than anything. Ben fits the list of the other VIP guests.” She ticked them off with her fingers. “One, he hates Josh. Two, he has aggression issues. Three, he was in the proximity to kill Josh.” She shrugged. “Those criteria can apply to any of the VIP guests we’ve looked at so far.”
He shook his head. “Okay, so let’s say someone deliberately wanted to frame Ben for killing Josh. This person would have had to ensure both Josh and Ben were at Velocity. Remember, the Hawks had scheduling issues, like Jaydon explained. Ben’s presence wasn’t a given. To specifically lay blame on Ben for Josh’s murder…it would have taken even more premeditated planning and strategic gambling.”
“All right, but just flow with it.” She stood and rooted for the notepad she’d doodled and jotted notes on during that morning’s flight. “Let’s just suppose Ben being blamed for Josh’s murder was deliberate. Who would have gained by Ben being charged?”
“Not following.”
For someone so dead set on his client’s innocence—which Roxie still thought was bullshit—didn’t the man ever wonder why Ben? Sure, the scant concrete evidence signified Ben most likely as the murderer, but why take that for granted? Tara had already proven the DA was up to something by recruiting her for a stint of two-timing the case. What else was the prosecution up to, she had to wonder.
“Who would have gained from Ben being charged? Don’t think about Josh being killed, concentrate on Ben being put away.” Where the heck is that notepad? She needed it to show she wasn’t merely conjecturing out of thin air. She felt she was on to something.
Grant stilled his fidgeting fingers and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll play. Running through the VIP guests, presuming one of them would necessitate Ben to be the scapegoat for their act of murdering Josh. Kylie wouldn’t have gained anything. She had no known ties to Ben. Likewise, Dave would have gained nothing—he never did anything with Ben. Wayne, nothing. Jaydon…” He squinted at her.
“Jaydon,” Roxie said, still rummaging through the debris of papers. “He’s the only VIP guest who did have connections with Ben. And while you’ve switched our focus to the Kylie-Dave-Wayne triangle, Jaydon was still up there that night, Grant. And he’s still interested in the case.”
“What are you looking for? And how so?”
“Notepad. I had some notes.” Roxie gave up her search for a moment and set her hands on her hips, meeting his stare. “Remember how I said I’d missed a call from Jaydon this morning? Before we boarded the plane? I called him back while you ran inside to pick up the food. His assistant answered and relayed the message that he was curious about the new developments in the case. Apparently, they had seen the same news bits Wayne put out, and Jaydon was touching base with me, seeing if he could be of any more help. Seemed curious, more than anything.”
“All right.”
“So last night, instead of going through the same old junk about Wayne and Kylie hooking up over the years, I ran with this little hunch and took a break. I looked into Jaydon. Well, into the Hawks.”
Grant shifted through the papers closest to him. “Show me.”
“I can’t find it. But the short of it is, Ben and Jaydon will both have contracts up for renewal for the next NBA season. Ben’s the bigger star, rumored to either stay with the Hawks or transfer to the Nets. Jaydon’s rumored to either stay with the Hawks or trade to the Pacers. Catch is, Jaydon seems to be worth more if he stays and Ben goes, but he’d get less if he went to the Pacers or if they both stay with the Hawks.”
They shared a sparking staring contest as she gave him time to let the information settle.
“You mean to tell me you’ve never even considered this before? Chris never investigated this angle?” I’m actually bringing something new to the table? She did a mental cha-ching.
Grant shook his head, still seeming to sink in the potential news. “No. All that time Chris was assigned to help Tara—” He snorted. “Who knows what kind of chase she had him going on? Clearly she never intended to try to win the case. Once I’d come on the case, and took over…” He rubbed at his face. “I’d never considered this. Yes, it’s hinting at money, somehow. But I had dismissed Jaydon to some degree.” He stood and started to pace. “How much money are you talking?”
“Uh, millions, for sure. But then again they already make multi-millions.” She shook her head at the mess on their dining/workspace. “I had the contract estimates written down. I can’t tell you offhand.”
Grant paused mid-pace. “You jotted this down when?”
“The numbers? Last night.”
They both shuffled through the papers until Grant grabbed her hand in an abrupt motion. “Who found your phone earlier?”
Roxie shrugged. “Some guy. Lia handed it over at the front desk when I returned.”
With no explanation, Grant strode to the other end of the counter and dialed someone on his phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“My brother.”
“Because?”
“Lia will be there with him.” He broke his eye contact as someone answered. “Finn, let me talk to Lia.” He rolled his eyes. “Please?”
Roxie checked on Lucy playing with her squishy blocks while Grant continued his phone call.
“Lia, who turned in Rox’s phone?”
After Lia’s presumed answer, Grant scowled and lowered the phone. “Son of a fucking bitch!”
Roxie glared. “Language,” she muttered. Yeah, Lucy was a bit young. But still, she intended to raise her daughter without profanity.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Grant said into the phone as he took up pacing, faster this time. “But if he ever has anything to do with Rox or me, you tell me. No matter how goddamn trivial. Thanks, Lia.”
He ended his call, shoved the phone in his pocket, and groaned. “Stuart. Tara’s favorite fuck buddy had your phone.”
Ah. Roxie winced as he came closer. “And—”
“And you’re missing notes. What’s the coincidence?” He could have frozen volcanoes with his stern expression. “That bastard,” he whispered.
“Maybe he actually did find it. We were in a hurry this morning, and I know I wasn’t organized at all.”
Grant shook his head. “No, it wasn’t your fault. That tote was shut and zippered to the brim. I unzipped it before I went to Walter’s office. I wanted to bring your latest notes and dictations with me in case Walter wanted a real update on the case.” He shook his head. “Chris was there with me. I was hurrying. I can’t even recall if I closed the damn door.”
“So now Stuart—and Tara—”
“Are spying on what we’re doing.”
Roxie imagined the bald-headed PI sneaking into Grant’s office. For notes? Still seemed too ludicrous. “Wait, how does this add up? Tara’s sleeping with Henry. We saw that. What makes you so sure she’s still in with Stuart too?”
Grant paced. “He’s always been her pet. I have no doubt he’d volunteer to do her dirty work. Just because she’s setting her sights on Henry doesn’t mean the old goat is going to have exclusivity.” He snorted. “
I’m going to get them.”
Roxie narrowed her eyes. “Get them, as in Stuart and Tara, or get them as in the notes?”
“The notes. They’re not beating me like this, not beating Ben.” He took off for his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.
She followed, unsure of the determination in his tone. Get them, how, exactly?
“You’re going to ask him for them?” She stayed at the door as he undressed to his boxers, replacing his work clothes with casual, darker-hued garments. This was twice she’d seen him disrobe. First, in a stressful hurry of being late for their flight that morning, and now as he reacted to disastrous news on the case. Fine lines and cuts of muscle didn’t miss her attention, but instead of drooling, she was chilled at the severity of reality.
“Not Stuart, her. He wouldn’t keep the notes. He’d give them straight to her,” he said and he pushed his head through a collar of tight black t-shirt.
“You’re going to demand them back from her?”
“I’m taking them back. I still have a code to her—our—old apartment.”
Roxie’s jaw dropped. “You don’t live there anymore. That’s breaking and entering.”
He smirked.
“Grant, no.” Illegal maneuvers did not seem like the best avenue. For notes? “They’re just notes. I can search for the stuff again.”
“That’s not the point. She is not privy to our case, Roxie. She is not on our team.”
Our. At one time she’d been elated for him to include her in everything, no longer dismissing her as an auxiliary asset to work. It was their case. Their teamwork. As much as she hesitated and soured at the concept of breaking the law, no matter how frivolous it could seem, and no matter how Machiavellian they were behaving—stealing back property that was rightfully theirs—she couldn’t just let him…
“Grant, please no.”
He zipped up his jeans, nodding his head.
“I can’t do this.”
A scowl immediately twisted his gorgeous lips. “Of course not. You have to stay here with Lucy.”
“Then you can’t go either. We’re in this together. I can’t let you run over to that woman’s place, break into her house, and retrieve scribbled-out ideas I had. It’s …just no.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket of his discarded pants on the floor. “Fine. Then I’ll call Kelly to come sit with Lucy and we’ll go together.”
“That’s not any better.”
“No gray area on this one, Roxie. I’m taking back those notes. With or without you.”
Roxie slammed her lips into a firm line. What if he got caught? What if…
“Oh, dammit. Call her.” She left him in his room, her heart racing at the aspect of what they were going to do. No fancy-footing around it. They were going to break into a residence.
She heard Grant speaking on the phone in his room as she checked her outfit. Having changed into simple black skirt and a light-blue blouse, she could add her navy-blue fleece zip-up and she’d pass for a little bit of nocturnal B&E.
Ignoring or disregarding the bounds of the law were nothing new. In her rebellious, regretful year of shifting through a variety of foster homes, Roxie had fallen under the lure of a bad crowd. Sixteen, lost, lonely, and without any living role models to guide her through her trauma of losing her family, she had her taste of defying cops.
Drinking underage, smoking her first and only joint, shoplifting, some vandalism. That was the extent of it. Juvenile shenanigans she wasn’t proud of and wasn’t too worried about. It had all seemed minor in the grand scheme of crime in the world. And after she’d found her new home with Hazel and Rory, and later Sophia, she’d promptly wised up and the attraction of being a “bad girl” suddenly felt too immature to waste her time on the image.
She groaned.
Now, as a mother herself, a provider for a little angel like Lucy, a mostly successful college graduate and near veterinarian, and a full-time employee at a legal firm, Roxie was content and satisfied to stay on the right side of the law. Never mind her false confession to killing Bolt. That was a sacrifice holding more weight than any statute or police code. Perjury was a crime, but it wasn’t one she would have neglected to commit for the sake of Lucy.
Breaking into Tara’s home sank a funky storm of nerves in her stomach.
“Roxie,” Grant said and he came up behind her and set his hand on her shoulder. He massaged briefly, pulling her to face him. “You don’t have to go. I can get it. I respect you want to be involved in this case. I admire your commitment, but I’d rather you stay here. Please?”
His tone was so soft, so caring.
“Yeah? And who’s going to be a lookout for you?” She raised her brow as she studied his solemn face.
A faint smile twisted on his lips. “I’ll just run in and grab them. Won’t take long. Kelly’s on her way.”
Lucy had fallen asleep as they waited for Kelly. To kill the time and preoccupy her antsy mind, Roxie cleaned up the countertop, resetting piles of papers while Grant ditched their leftover food and set dishware in the sink.
“Kel’s expecting her first at the end of the year. And I told you she’s a nurse, right?” Grant said, no doubt trying to instill some hope and trust.
If she’d already accepted Grant could watch Lucy, Roxie figured his sister would be okay too.
Well, she’s medically skilled then. No worries about not knowing infant CPR…
A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. Grant let in a slim blonde with bluish eyes that matched his. The family resemblance was startling.
“Hi,” she said and offered her hand. “Kelly.”
“Roxie.”
Kelly spun on her heel to face her brother. “You have a woman and a baby in your apartment.”
“She’s…technically my assistant,” Grant said as he gestured for Roxie to come to the door with him.
Kelly’s eyes narrowed and she pointed a finger. “I want answers. You’re not evading them unless you run and hide in Antarctica.” Then she turned to Roxie and her expression lightened. “What’s your girlie’s name?”
“Lucy. She should be sleeping until we come back.” Roxie resisted a laugh. Yeah, like she hadn’t said that already today and jinxed it. “Milk’s in the fridge if she wakes up.” Grant tugged on her shirt sleeve.
“We won’t be gone long. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Wait!” Kelly rushed after them as Grant encouraged Roxie to leave with him. “Roxie, what’s your number? The pediatrician’s number? If something happens—”
“Call me if hell breaks loose,” Grant said. “She’s always with me.”
And with that, they left.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grant drove them toward Tara’s apartment and a tense silence filled the interior of his sedan for the first few moments. Roxie chanced brief glances at her boss, shocked at both his cool demeanor and icy energy.
He had no qualms about this? A lawyer breaking the law? No hesitation?
Roxie had to wonder if it was because he still claimed remote ownership of Tara’s apartment, as in it was once his home too, so it didn’t qualify as trespassing.
She took to full-out staring at him in frustration. He was foolish enough to think this plan was justified? That it was worth it to break into Tara’s for her simple, stupid notes? She could write more. And if Tara had an inkling as to how they were investigating Ben’s case, so what? It’s not as though she’d written in huge block font ‘the murderer is…’ Roxie didn’t place the same significance on retrieving their efforts from Tara. No, she didn’t trust the woman, but Roxie suspected Grant’s anger at Stuart and Tara stealing from them fueled a bit more of his determination than hers.
“Yes?” Grant said as he downshifted around a corner.
Why the hell does he have to look so damn sexy? Even now? Move over, Clark Kent. Grant was oozing a Batman-ish manner. Dark. Mysterious. Out to get the bad guys, rippling muscles and clenched jaw and all
.
She crossed her arms and tried for a glare. Damn if he didn’t catch her checking him out. “How do you know she’s not home?”
Important, legitimate question. There.
“I checked the inner-office agenda. She has a dinner meeting uptown.”
“How do you know she even has my notepads? Maybe Stuart never gave them to her. Maybe she has them in her car.”
“Then we’ll break in there next.”
Her jaw dropped and then she grimaced at the hint of a smile on his face. Teasing? She wasn’t used to it from him. She smacked his arm.
“Relax, Rox. It won’t take more than five minutes to run up there and look for it. If it’s not there, then we gave it our best shot. I would doubt she’d leave them in her car. Being confidential information about a case.”
She laughed harshly. “Oh, that’s cute. Confidential. She stole it from us.”
He nodded.
“But this is still a bad idea.” While she was aroused by his masculine, dangerous edge, Roxie was determined to remain the voice of reason between the two of them. Definitely not the time to get ga-ga over his bad-boy appeal.
After a short drive, he pulled over on a side street, parking the car at a meter in front of neon-advertised bars and closed storefront windows.
“Come on.” He swiped his meter card at the sensor and held out his hand. She took it, mostly for the need to keep up. Again, he adopted his naturally speedy gait, and she guessed his hurry was for the hope of getting to Tara’s before she came home. Already inching to ten PM, Roxie fretted about getting caught red-handed.
They came to a lobby paneled in polished black marble slabs, much like an extravagant Egyptian tomb. Gold lined all corners and edges of the entry to the skyscraper Grant once lived in with Tara. After a brief acknowledgement to the doorman, Grant kept his face down and guided Roxie inside.
“Evening, sir,” an employee said near the lobby.
Another nod from her boss, and they entered the elevator. He pushed in a code to the panel, indicating which floor they desired.
Resisting Redemption Page 26
