by E. M. Shea
“Rich Pearlman,” he began. “A friend of mine from the country club.”
Dani looked up from the file and struggled to keep the semblance of a smile intact.
“Got into a little trouble a few weeks ago—actually, at the club itself.”
“What, did he use the wrong dessert fork?” Dani joked.
Leland apparently didn’t share her amusement. He pursed his weathered lips together before continuing. “Apparently there was some kind of sting operation going on at the club that none of us knew about.”
Dani jerked her head up from the file. “A sting operation?”
“I know, sounds crazy, doesn’t it? There had been some talk going around—I wasn’t actually privy to it at the time—about drugs being sold on the premises.”
Dani was only half surprised. On the one hand, drugs went hand in hand with money, and—hello—of course there were no shortage of Benjamins floating around Cedarsville Country Club. Still, she couldn’t imagine it was a big-time operation involving multiple club members, so the fact that major resources had been diverted to an undercover investigation did strike her as somewhat unusual.
“So what was your friend accused of doing?” she asked.
“Selling prescription medication to some minors.”
“What kind of medication?”
Leland nodded to the file that was now open on her lap. “It’s all in there. But the Cliff Notes version is that he was selling Adderall to some high-school students. Their parents are club members as well, but they weren’t aware of the situation. At least not when it was happening.”
Dani knew she would have to dive into further research on Adderall to be fully prepared for the case, but for the time being, she drew on her basic understanding that it was a medication primarily prescribed to treat attention deficit disorder. But at the end of the day, it was a stimulant—and one that was increasingly being abused by high school and college students who liked its quick focus fix, unaware or at least initially unconcerned about its addictive and harmful side effects when illegally self administered.
“Did they push to press charges?” she asked.
“One set of parents did, the others want the whole thing to just go away.”
“Let me guess. Not out of loyalty to Rich, but because they don’t want the resulting publicity.”
“Bingo. These are kids with early acceptance letters at Ivy League Schools. Those offers could be rescinded awfully fast if the public thinks they’re getting off easy because they come from money. That’s the kind of backlash no school wants to take on these days.”
“How many kids are involved, and are we representing them as well?”
“There’s three of them, and they’ve already cut deals with the state to testify against Rich. Makes sense—they’re minors so it’s not like they were facing major jail time, but it was still in their best interest to come out with a relatively clean record in all of this. Rich, on the other hand, is potentially in deep shit.”
As Leland spoke, Dani scanned the information contained in the file folder, her heart suddenly lurching when a name jumped off one of the pages: Sergeant Nick Bellamy. She pulled the page out and brought it closer to her line of vision, wanting to be certain her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. But there it was, with the accompanying facts further adding to her sense of dread. Nick was the lead local law enforcement official on the case, joined by the state police as the investigation progressed. She reminded herself that unlike a police department in a major metropolitan area, the Cedarsville Police Department was small enough that most officers had to operate as jacks and jills of all trade—from handing out traffic tickets, to conducting undercover investigations. And even if the state police had taken over the bulk of the legwork, it was hard to imagine that Nick wouldn’t be called to testify due to his role in getting the investigation initially off the ground. She closed her eyes and sighed. Move over, Rich. I’m about to jump in that pile of shit with you.
“Something wrong?” Leland asked.
It was several moments before Dani could pry her eyes back open. “I was just wondering … have you thought about giving this case to Mark? It seems like something right up his alley.”
Leland studied her for a moment. “Are you saying you don’t want to take this on? Especially, I might add, when I’m personally asking you to do so since it’s for a good friend of mine?”
“I don’t know … I just wish it weren’t the case that so many of your good friends do not-so-good things.” As soon as the words left Dani’s mouth, she wished she could take them back.
“Dani, do I need to remind you what we do here as defense attorneys? Because by now—with you just being made partner and all—we should be well past that conversation.”
Dani shifted uncomfortably as her shirt collar began to chafe at her neck. Or was the discomfort from the invisible rope she had unwittingly wrapped around it?
“Did Rich sell the Adderall?” Leland continued, his voice measured yet clearly displeased. “Yes. Do we expect that there may be convincing evidence that he sold the drug? Yes. Do we look for every possible legal loophole and every overlooked technicality that can work in his favor? A double yes. Do we try to get him the least amount of fines and especially the least amount of jail time if a conviction is nevertheless imminent? A triple yes.”
That was a whole lot of yeses. But all Dani could do was nod. After all, there was nothing more she could say short of “I won’t take this case”—and she knew where that had led once before. She had worked too hard to make partner at Schulman, Heinz & Associates to throw it all away because she dreaded the prospect of facing Nick in court again. Not to mention that she would be defending someone whom she knew he would label as scum. And that was on a good day.
Dani looked back down at the folder and reminded herself that there was in fact substance to Leland’s point. She was a defense attorney. Which meant her job was to provide the best possible legal representation to clients, even those she might not particularly like. Besides, she had yet to meet this Rich guy—how fitting of a name—and it could just be that he was somehow still likeable. Some. How. Yes, she was reaching. At least … maybe …? Her shoulders dropped as she acquiesced to the inevitable.
“Okay,” she said, standing up from the chair. “I’ll get started on things.”
“Good. Oh, and Dani,” Leland added as she started to exit into the hallway. “Not that I need to say this. But you will give one-hundred-ten percent to this case—right?”
Dani tightened her grip on the door handle, feeling as though she could crush the metal into dust. “Of course.”
◆◆◆
“Well, that sucks,” Dani’s sister, Brynn, said later that evening as they sipped iced tea on Brynn’s deck overlooking a pastoral lake. Nestled in a wooded corner of northwestern Rhode Island, Brynn’s home always felt to Dani like an oasis in the midst of the sometimes crazy world they both inhabited. Fortunately, with just under an hour’s drive between them, the two siblings could usually find time in their mutually busy schedules to meet up at least once or twice a month.
But if Brynn was expecting a quiet, run-of-the-mill visit, she quickly discovered that was not to be the case. Younger by two years, she had just been fed a deep-dish word pie filled with both sweet and sour revelations, and all based on the two simple words that she had posed to Dani: “What’s new?” In all fairness, as a crime lab analyst in her own right, Brynn was the perfect sounding board for Dani’s present state of angst brought on by legal and criminal matters. Oh—and the smokin’ hot cop smack dab in the middle of it all.
Brynn also worked closely with a number of investigators, detectives and police officers as part of her job—and in a different and often deeper context than Dani did in her role as a lawyer—so she was more than happy to succinctly sum up her findings for Dani.
“A lot of them are pricks.”
Dani choked on her iced tea. “Seriously?”
; “Hate to say it, but yes,” Brynn confirmed with a sigh. “Look, these are high-stress jobs. And to those who say ‘so is being CEO of a company’ or ‘same with … I don’t know … running a daycare center with fifty screaming kids’—yes, that’s true. But those people don’t go to work knowing there’s a solid chance that they could get their ass shot off on any given day.”
Dani thought about that for a minute. “Okay, I see where you’re going with this, but I’m not sure where the prick part comes in.”
“You can’t be in that line of work without developing a real hard-ass kind of mentality. Forget about the warm fuzzies. It’s more like testosterone on steroids.”
“Hmm … I don’t know. That sounds an awful lot like my mindset when I head into the courtroom,” Dani observed, only half kidding. “Besides, there are plenty of women in law enforcement as well. Are you saying a lot of them are testosterone-fueled pricks, too?”
Brynn gave the question some thought before answering. “Some. Well, minus the testosterone. But actually, I think they channel the stress of the job differently.”
The mention of testosterone brought Dani’s thoughts back to Nick. In her bed. Doing things to her body that would be downright criminal if pleasure were outlawed. Which, fortunately, it wasn’t. So as far as she was concerned, the more testosterone, the merrier. Still, that was the least of their problems. It was everything else once their clothes were back in place and their jobs were back on the table.
“So what do I do?” she asked Brynn, her voice laden with indecisiveness.
“Are you in a relationship with this guy?”
“No.”
Brynn eyed her sister with an air of suspicion. “Do you want to be?”
“No. Of course not! I mean … I don’t know. No!”
Brynn broke into a grin. “Methinks the woman doth protest too much.”
“Okay, Shakespeare.” She paused, adding, “That was Shakespeare, right?”
“Score one for the man in tights!” Brynn’s smile retreated as she saw the seriousness in Dani’s face. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do.”
“Why not? I tell you all the time.”
Brynn chuckled. “True. I understand your dilemma, I really do. But I got to be honest. I don’t like seeing you questioning your job—everything you’ve worked so hard for, and that your damn good at—over a guy. I don’t care how great he is in bed.”
Wow. And just like that, Dani could see things from a much sharper perspective. What had she been thinking? Or more precisely, what body parts had been doing the thinking? Because clearly, it hadn’t been her brain.
“My god, you’re right,” she said quietly.
“It happens once in a great while.” Brynn paused, sensing Dani’s anguish. “And I’m not always glad when it does.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” Dani replied, hoping the “fake it till you make it” mantra might apply to her inner resolve as well. “I’ll be fine.”
“So you’re staying on the country club guy case?”
“I am.”
“And if Nick takes the stand, you’ll forget that you have in fact examined the witness before—every square inch of him, and naked?”
Dani half laughed. “I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.”
“And what about you?” Dani asked, all too eager to change the subject.
“What about me?”
“Don’t play cute.”
Brynn flashed an overly exaggerated smile that bared her perfect set of teeth as though she was posing for a whitener commercial. “I can’t help it. I was born that way.”
Dani knew her sister well enough to sense that she was trying hard to deflect the conversation away from herself. But she wasn’t about to give up that easy. “Any guys in your life?”
“Yeah, and they’re all pricks, remember?”
With her wheat blonde air, aqua-blue eyes, petite yet curvy build and sharply quick wit, it was hard to imagine that Brynn was short on admirers. But she had always been reticent when it came to discussing her personal life, so Dani didn’t push. At least not too hard.
“So no special men in your life?”
“The only male specimens I deal with these days are in DNA form and smeared across a microscope slide. And I prefer it that way.”
“All righty, then,” Dani said with a laugh. She was aware that Brynn had been badly burned in the past by several suitors, although probably no more so than any other woman she knew. After all, live long enough and you’re going to have some skeletons in the closet. Or at least some ex-boyfriends that you wish were dismembered bones stuffed away in an old duffel bag. Still, it seemed to have had a lasting effect on Brynn, which tugged at the pit of Dani’s stomach. Someday, they would have to talk more about this. But for now, she would let it go.
Dani raised her glass of iced tea. “Here’s to winning court cases on behalf of undeserving douchebags.”
Brynn met her raised glass. “Now that’s the spirit.”
“Because, I might add, everyone deserves a fair trial. Everyone.”
“Agreed,” Brynn said with a nod.
Dani tilted her glass back at a steep angle to take in the last remaining sip, then looked out over the shimmering lake, determined that her resolve would remain equally crystal clear. That’s right. Just keep your eye on the prize. But it was both eyes that popped open as a lone figure suddenly emerged from the depths at the far end of the lake. Water rolled over a muscular chest as powerful biceps pushed back at the current. She leaned forward, squinting to get a better look. Is that …? It can’t be! Wait … can it?
“If you stare out there long enough, you’ll see a mirage,” Brynn said. “Usually it’s whatever you’re fixating on the most.”
Dani leaned back in her chair, breathing easier as the illusion faded away. She turned to Brynn, forehead creased. “I guess that explains why I just saw Nick skinny-dipping in your lake.”
Chapter Nine
“Okay, guys,” Nick said to the three teens cramped into the back seat of his jeep. “Be prepared for some ear popping as we start to get higher into the mountains.”
Two hours north of Boston, they had just passed a sign that read: Entering the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Nick breathed in deeply as cooler mountain air flowed through the uncovered jeep, the fresh aroma of pine mingled with wildflowers filling his lungs and clearing the clutter from his mind. Or at least most of it. Even when he was off duty, thoughts of work—the situations that might unfold in his absence, the safety of his team—were never far from the peripheral of consciousness. And today, there was another uninvited visitor who kept popping into his head. This one didn’t wear a uniform. In fact, she wasn’t wearing anything at all. And I’m digging it!
“How far are we from the hiking trail?” Jorge asked.
Nick glanced in the rearview mirror at the tousle-haired 15-year-old who sat sandwiched between fellow Greater Boston Boys Club members Colin and Gregory. “About ten miles. Ever been up this way?”
“Nope.”
He didn’t think Jorge had. Like most of the young teens in the club, his family had neither the money nor means for leisurely getaways, even though New Hampshire was not exactly in another time zone.
“Well, you’re in for a treat. It can be a bit of a challenge hiking up some of the steeper parts of the trail. But once you’re at the top and looking down—there’s absolutely nothing like it.” Nick paused and grinned. “At least not in Boston. You can see for miles and miles. No tall buildings, no smog, just lots and lots of trees and clean air.”
“Will my phone still work?” Gregory asked, his voice tinged with anxiety.
Nick wanted to say who cares about the damn phone, but he reminded himself that even more than his own generation of early 30-somethings, today’s youth virtually couldn’t fathom life without being tethered 24/7 to their mobile devices.
“It should,” he replied. “But I want everyone to put their phones i
n their backpacks while we’re hiking and leave them there. You start tapping away on some video game halfway up the mountain, and you could lose your footing and end up a pile of bones at the bottom.”
“Man, you sound old,” Colin muttered.
Nick grinned. “That’s because I am. And don’t forget—once we get to the start of the trail, we’ll be meeting up with some members of the Southern New Hampshire Boys Club.”
“Cool,” Gregory declared above the rumbling jeep engine as it adjusted to the uphill climb.
Twenty minutes later, Nick pulled into the Red Trail parking area, immediately spotting Dustin “Dusty” Miller, the leader of the local Boys Club chapter, along with five club members ranging in age from 12 to 15 years old.
“It’s been a while,” Dusty said as he shook Nick’s hand and then affectionately slapped him on the back. As one of Nick’s former instructors at the Massachusetts Police Academy, Dusty had been nothing short of a mentor through the years. Nick had lost his father to cancer just before entering the academy, and Dusty, sensing his immense loss and grief despite a stoic outward appearance, didn’t hesitate to take him under his wing. Prior to his instructor gig at the academy, Dusty had worked his way up the ranks to the role of captain in the Boston Metropolitan Police Department. Sidelined by a serious gunshot injury to his left leg while responding to an armed robbery, he had transitioned to the academy where he remained for four years until the start of his retirement. It wasn’t long after that he and Avril, a plucky former grade school teacher to whom he had been married 32 years, decided to relocate to the open spaces of New Hampshire. And he never looked back—that is, except for occasions like this when he eagerly welcomed Nick back into the fold.
“You’re looking good,” Dusty said as he stood back and gave him a once-over. “Been working out?”
“Just the usual. Running four or five times a week and weights whenever I can fit them in.”
