“—be a partnership.” Denny laughed as she finished the sentence. “You look nice. Court today?”
“Very tactfully done, Den. I see how you changed the subject. No court today. I’m meeting with Claire Montreaux about selling my practice.”
“Somehow I can’t see you retiring, Mom. Are you sure you’re ready?”
Was she ready? Her small practice was nothing compared to Richard’s illustrious career, but Olivia and Richard had planned it that way. Olivia’s office was close to home, so she had been able to care for Denny, freeing up Richard whose relentless litigation schedule kept him away from home. While Denny was young, Olivia had attended her plays, piano recitals, and pageants. As Denny got older and became more independent, Olivia turned her attention to the vast sloping hillside behind her house, turning the wild grassy area into a terraced garden. She did all the backbreaking work herself and soon had fruit trees, a large plot dedicated to vegetables, and a vast picking garden, which kept Olivia and her friends in fresh flowers all summer long.
Olivia had spent a lot of time alone in her marriage. Even though she kept herself busy, she missed her husband and looked forward to spending more time with him, even if that time was spent traveling for his work.
“So to answer your question, yes, I’m ready. I can travel with your father now.”
“I don’t see Dad retiring anytime soon. He likes the limelight. I honestly don’t think Dad would know what to do with himself if he retired.”
And therein lies the problem.
Richard worked long hours and each week spent a night or two in their condo in the city, with its galley kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. Nestled on the top of California Street, the condo had a beautiful view of San Francisco, and since it was the first place they had purchased – mortgaging their souls after Richard passed the bar – they kept it out of sentimentality. That was thirty-two years ago. Olivia consoled herself with the knowledge that after all these years, despite him sometimes seeming married to his career, she and Richard still loved each other. Thank goodness for that, Olivia thought.
“I’m hoping I can get him to slow down a little bit. As for me, I’m happy in the garden. Maybe I’ll take up painting or something.” Olivia sipped her coffee. “Den, tell me the truth. Did your father plan a surprise party for me?”
“Of course not,” Denny said. “You made it perfectly clear you absolutely didn’t want one.”
Olivia sighed with relief. She was looking forward to an intimate family gathering. Maybe tonight she would come to see her son-in-law in a new light. For Denny’s sake she would try.
“Are you having your birthday lunch with Lauren today?”
“I am,” Olivia said.
“Tell her I said hello. Maybe the three of us could meet for lunch sometime?”
“That would be great,” Olivia said. “I know Lauren would love to see you.” This wasn’t the first time Denny had mentioned lunch with Olivia and Lauren, but despite half a dozen invitations, Denny always had some excuse.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring anything besides the cake? It doesn’t seem like much of a birthday with you slaving away in the kitchen.”
“It’s not slaving when you enjoy the labor. Anyway, I’ve got it all under control. Shopping’s complete, most of the prep is already finished. I’ll come home early and get the lasagna in the oven. Want to come and keep me company while I throw things together?”
“Can’t. We’re going to struggle to get here by 7:30 as it is. David’s busy at work right now.” Denny hoisted her purse onto her shoulder and kissed Olivia’s cheek. “Love you.”
Her conversation with Denny left her troubled. Olivia had meddled in Denny’s life behind the scenes, hiring an investigator to follow Denny’s husband. The investigator had reported back, worried that David had spotted him. Of course, Olivia had terminated the relationship, but it left her unsettled. If Denny knew what she had done, she’d feel so betrayed, and David wouldn’t miss an opportunity to exploit Denny’s anger. After all, Olivia had no concrete evidence that David was having an affair, but her years as a family law attorney had honed her intuition to a sharp edge. She knew a cheater when she saw one. David Grayson was a cheater.
“Love you, honey,” Olivia said. She walked Denny to the door and stood for a moment in the cold October sun, watching the daughter she loved with her heart and soul drive away.
Fifteen minutes later, Olivia pulled into her reserved spot in the downtown Larkspur municipal parking lot and headed on foot down Magnolia towards her office. It wouldn’t do to be late for her meeting with Claire Montreaux, the young lawyer who was going to buy Olivia’s practice. After her meeting, she had a lunch date with her best friend, Lauren Ridley. Although the two women had lunch once a week, birthday lunches were always special and often involved champagne.
Situated in a store front and snuggled next to the historic Lark Theatre, the Law Office of Olivia Sinclair had no sign in the window. Given the incendiary nature of the divorces she litigated, the front door was kept locked at all times, and clients were seen by appointment only. Digging the key out of her coat pocket, Olivia let herself into the office, taking in the thick carpets and the comfortable sofa with fresh eyes. She had done her best to make this part of the office welcoming. A huge bouquet of flowers rested on the waiting room coffee table.
“There you are.” Mary Chadwick, Olivia’s assistant since she started her practice, hurried to her desk, a stack of files in her arms. “Happy birthday, Olivia.”
“Thanks. Who sent the flowers?”
“Blythe Harden dropped those off. She said to tell you they were a small testament to her gratitude. I’m also to tell you that if you ever need any favor from her, not to hesitate.” A small slip of pink paper was tucked into the corner of Mary’s blotter. She set the files on her desk, pulled it out, and waved it in the air, a sly smile on her face.
“There’s a west wind today, a portent of big change.”
After twenty-seven years of working with Mary, Olivia knew that in good time Mary would tell her what the west wind had brought them today. Her assistant – a trusted, intelligent woman who masterfully found needles in haystacks – was driven by age-old superstitions handed down from her equally superstitious grandmother.
“I’ve found Roland Rainwater.”
“What?” Olivia didn’t bother to hide her surprise. Certain that Roland Rainwater had vanished into thin air, Olivia had planned to hand the whole Rainwater file, along with its hefty retainer, over to Claire once she came on board. Claire could hire a private investigator to track down the deadbeat husband and get him served with a summons.
“How did you find him?”
Mary giggled. “On an Internet dating site.”
“Do I want to know about this?”
“It’s legit, don’t worry. I put up a fake profile of a woman who is very similar to Hetty. You know, bohemian, artsy. I made sure to hint at wealth untold. Sure enough, Roland was looking for a new meal ticket.”
“Well, where is he?”
Mary looked at her watch. “Probably on his way to Peet’s. I’m meeting him for coffee in twenty minutes.” The Rainwater file sat on the corner of her desk. She pulled the summons out with a flourish and grabbed her purse. “Back soon.”
Olivia laughed. “Just make sure he doesn’t follow you to your car.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got my pepper spray. Oh, Claire Montreaux will be here in ten minutes or so. Want me to get some sandwiches for your birthday lunch with Lauren while I’m out?”
“Thanks, Mary. Use the company card. Get something for yourself, too.”
“Will do. Back soon.” Mary waved and headed down the street, walking as purposefully as a bloodhound who had picked up a scent.
Olivia surveyed the small office, the home base of her work life for the past twenty-seven years. Her eyes roamed over the various diplomas and certificates that hung on the wall, the bank of filing cabinets,
the stacks of files and papers. She had worked hard for all of this, but the time had come to pass the baton. There was a gentle knock on the door.
Claire Montreaux waited while Olivia unlocked the door.
“Good morning,” Claire said.
“I always keep the door locked,” Olivia said. “I had an angry husband come after me with a baseball bat once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was lucky there happened to be a policeman down the block. But I wound up with a smashed-in window, so lesson learned.”
Claire was young and fresh and very much like Olivia had been when she started practicing law so very long ago. A tiny thing with black hair that hung down to her waist, Claire looked like a fifteen-year-old cheerleader. Although Olivia had never been opposite Claire in court, word on the street was that the young lawyer was whip-smart, had a photographic memory, and could out-argue the best and most seasoned litigator. Today Claire wore a very short skirt along with stiletto heels so high Olivia’s lower back threatened to spasm at the very sight of them. She felt old all of a sudden. Out of touch with this new generation of lawyers.
Claire stood in the reception area, surveying her surroundings. She turned a slow circle. “This office has a really nice feel to it. Uncluttered with lots of light.”
“Thanks. Of course, you can change things as you see fit,” Olivia said.
The women didn’t waste time with small talk. Once they were situated in Olivia’s office, Claire reached into her spanking new Mark Cross briefcase and pulled out the partnership proposal that the two women had hammered out a month ago, when Claire first approached Olivia with the idea of coming on board as a partner. Several pages had been tagged with Post-its. Claire opened to the first one and said, “I need your assurance that Stephen Vine will still be sending referrals from his criminal practice this way.” She leaned back, confident and in charge, and continued. “My position is that Mr. Vine’s influence will be needed, especially since I’m new to the area—”
You’re new to the profession, darling. Olivia didn’t say the words out loud. Everyone had to start somewhere, and she couldn’t find fault with Claire’s attention to detail. Granted, Claire was taking a risk, sinking her time and capital into her own firm so early in her career. Stephen Vine, Olivia’s long-time friend and well-respected criminal defense attorney, didn’t take family law cases and had been referring clients to Olivia for years. Claire would need those referrals, especially in the beginning.
“—so will that be a problem?” Claire said.
“Not at all,” Olivia said. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Vine. He’s agreed to meet with you alone or with me, whichever you prefer.”
Claire exhaled. “That’s great. Is he easy to get along with? I’ve heard rumors that he can be prickly.”
Olivia settled back into her chair. “Stephen doesn’t like liars. Be honest and genuine and you’ll get along fine. Pardon my French, but he can spot bullshit a mile away.” She thumbed through her copy of their agreement. “And I have an issue I would like to change. I’m looking to be out of the practice in six months instead of a year. I’m willing to adjust the financial aspects accordingly …”
And so the meeting went on. For an hour Claire and Olivia negotiated, easily agreeing on changes and amendments. By 11:35 Claire was gone, off to type up the agreed changes. Next week Olivia would sign it. After Claire left, Olivia turned her attention to her computer, methodically sorting through the thirty-plus emails she had received overnight, making note of things that needed her attention and forwarding the rest on to Mary.
“I’m back,” Mary said. Olivia heard her putting food in the fridge. She came into Olivia’s office and sat on the couch. “Dear Roland wasn’t very happy. Silly ass. I got you sandwiches and a bottle of champagne. Will you be back after lunch?”
“Nope. I’m going to check my email and head out.”
“Good. How did it go with Claire?”
“Well. She’s agreed to everything.”
Mary kicked off her shoes. “Today I feel like a tired old woman. I have really enjoyed working with you, Liv, but won’t deny that I’m looking forward to retiring.”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? We’ve had quite a run, haven’t we?”
“That we have,” Mary said. “And I don’t mind admitting that I’m a wee bit exhausted.”
Olivia had just deleted the last email, when a new message from an unknown sender popped into her inbox, with a subject line that read: Check out your husband!
“I’ve got an anonymous email. It mentions Richard and looks like it’s coming from someone’s phone,” Olivia said.
Mary put her glasses on and leaned close to the computer as Olivia opened the email. The body said, “You think you know everything, don’t you? You stupid bitch.”
Olivia didn’t think twice before double clicking the attachment. Grainy footage slowly came into focus. Thinking there was an error with the download, she started to close the file just as it popped into focus, revealing a nubile blond, younger than Denny, astride her lover.
The couple went at it like rabbits, and Olivia was just about to exit the video, when the man – hidden by the camera – flipped the girl, so she was underneath him. From this new angle, Olivia recognized the man’s face. Richard. Her husband. Screwing someone young enough to be his daughter.
“Oh, God,” Mary gasped, stepping away from Olivia, her hand over her mouth.
Olivia closed the laptop and pushed it away from her. The sound of crashing waves filled Olivia’s ears. She pushed her chair away from the desk, as if distance would make the wretched thing go away. It didn’t. Her stomach clenched into a painful cramp. She picked up the glass of water that rested on her desk, but it slipped from her shaking hands, drenching her lap in water.
Ignoring the mess she’d made, Olivia said, “Mary, would you excuse me. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off.”
Mary waited, her embarrassment balanced by a look of worry and concern. “Are you sure?”
Olivia nodded. She waited until Mary had left and locked the door. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she pulled the laptop towards her, and ignoring the cold water that puddled in her lap, she forced herself to watch the video, this time with the sound on. When it finished, with Richard and his lover satisfied, Olivia sat at her desk, numb and unable to move, her stomach feeling as though she had eaten a bag of rocks. Olivia couldn’t quite catch her breath.
When the office walls started to close in, she snapped the laptop shut and tried to stand, and despite her weak knees, somehow managed to find her way to her car.
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Acknowledgements
Whenever I finish a novel and send the final copy in for publication, I am always amazed by the generosity of the many people who help along the way. I would like to thank Erica Galvan, the property and evidence technician at the Central Marin Policing Authority for answering a myriad of questions with regard to evidence and investigations, especially as they relate to a murder that has long gone cold. Jim Beaty of Backstage Music in Starkville, MS, for answering technical questions regarding a plot line that was intriguing but ended up being left out of this story. (Stay tuned – it may show up in the future!) Patti Swensen Pedroli gave me an accurate summation of identity theft and how someone could get away with it – at least for a while – in these days of complete connectivity.
Kasey Corbit and John F. Prentice get massive thanks for double-checking my legal procedure and helping me fashion my plot in a way that is realistic and accurate. Thanks to both of you for reading the courtroom scenes, addressing procedural issues, and – mostly – for assuring me when I thought I’
d written myself into a corner. Big thanks to Detective Adam Richardson at The Writer’s Detective Bureau Q&A Facebook page and thanks to the Forensics and Flowers Facebook page. Both pages provide a cornucopia of information about police procedure and forensic science.
Thanks to Abigail Fenton, Dushi Horti, and Helena Newton, HQ’s fabulous team, whose editing acumen never ceases to amaze. I owe a debt of gratitude to all of these women, whose insights have made me a better writer. And I must give giant kudos to the art department at HQ Digital UK, whose book covers have played such a huge role in my success.
A warm thank you to my beta readers, Kim Laird and Gloria Rowland, for going through The Witness with a fine-tooth comb. Thanks to Jennifer Young, Angela Baxter, and Suzanne Simonetti for helping me flesh out that ever-important opening paragraph.
Special thanks to all the social media gurus who have helped me get the word out about my books over the years. Susan Peterson, Sharlene Martin Moore and Bobbi Wendel Dumas, Novels and Lattes, Book Nook Reviews and Fun, Suzy Weinstein Leopold, Linda’s Book Obsession, The Historical and Timeslip Novels Book Club, The Write Review, Laura Pearson at Motherlode Book Club, Wild Sage Book Blog, High Society Book Club, The Napping Bibliophile, and Bookworms Anonymous. All of these pages are chock full of wonderful book recommendations and conversations around books. Social media connects readers and writers, so if you’re looking for your next great read, I recommend any of the above pages.
And a final heart-felt thank you to all of my readers. When I sit down to a blank screen to tell a story, I do so with you in my mind and heart.
Happy Reading!
Terry
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading The Witness, the second book in the Olivia Sinclair series. If you are so inclined, a review on Amazon, BookBub, and/or Goodreads would be very much appreciated.
I’m busily writing the next phase of Olivia’s journey, and I can’t wait to share it with you. If you would like to be notified when I have a new release or when any of my books go on sale, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://www.terrylynnthomas.com/
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