“Randall, it’s Judge Carson.” Her voice was tight. The only indication of her feelings. But Randall knew the signs. She was angry. Everyone knew that when Judge Hope Carson was angry the explosion would be of nuclear proportions. He had learned that the hard way eighteen years ago. He planted his elbows on his desk, his mind racing. It would take all his diplomatic skills to defuse her. Especially since she had used her formal title on the phone.
“Your Honor. How can I help you?” He quelled his uneasiness with the reminder that she needed his sympathy right now. The funeral yesterday had been devastating. Immersing himself in his usual Sunday morning catch-up at the office, he’d had a hard time keeping his mind off it. Any parent sitting in those pews could not help but think of their own daughters. For once he was glad his kids were living in Toronto with their mother.
“You mean like you’ve helped already?” Judge Carson’s bitterness lashed at him.
He stiffened. “I told you I’d look into the matter and I did.”
“What did you find? That my mother-in-law acted within her rights?”
He closed his eyes. Unbidden and entirely unwanted, an image of Hope Carson swam behind his lids. Not her now, in her judge’s chambers, dressed in her black suit with her severe salt-and-pepper bob and grooves between her strong brows. No, he suddenly saw her as he first saw her eighteen years ago, walking into the law school, her red wool coat blowing open, laughing carelessly with a friend. From behind her tortoiseshell glasses, her eyes burned through him. Tawny and hungry. Gleaming with intelligence. She was a tiger.
Tyger,Tyger, burning bright…
They dated for three months. She had seared him with her caustic comments about the professors, her friends, his friends and even him. He had learned she could take what she dished out. He had fallen in love with her strength, her callousness, her fierceness.
But she wasn’t interested in a relationship. And especially with him. She couldn’t dominate him. He couldn’t dominate her. In the end they were too much alike. There was no give and no take. Just attack, attack, maim and eventually kill.
He had relegated their relationship to a very distant memory. Now it returned. He didn’t like the knowledge it brought with it: they were both newly single.
Why had she called him?
“Did you look at your associate’s file?” Her voice brought him rudely back to the present. The way she said your associate made it sound like an unsavory part of his bodily functions.
He frowned. “Yes. She handled everything correctly.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He remembered the look on Kate’s face when she handed him the file. Anger, defiance and resentment had flashed through those strikingly translucent eyes, along with something else he couldn’t put his finger on. He suspected John Lyons had been right about her. Kate was made of stronger stuff than he had first thought.
Hope may not realize that her nemesis was a lot like her, but he did.
“Look, Your Honor, Kate did her job.”
“But did you?”
“Of course.”
“Then why the hell did you pass my mother-in-law over to a first-year associate instead of seeing her yourself?” Randall knew exactly what Hope was accusing him of: by sending Marian to someone other than him, there were now written notes—a paper trail—detailing Hope’s inadequacies and Marian’s concern about Lisa. If Randall had met with Marian, he would have grasped immediately the connection between Marian and Hope, and the notes would have been briefer and less detailed.
His frown deepened. He’d screwed up. Referring Marian MacAdam to a new associate had been a brash and stupid move. If he was honest with himself, he had been focused on swamping John Lyons’ most recent acquisition with as many family law files as he could get his hands on. Anything to give John Lyons the message that he wasn’t top dog any more.
“It seemed a reasonable decision at the time, Your Honor,” he said, his voice low and smooth. As soon as he said the words, he knew he’d taken the wrong approach.
Her voice became a snarl. “Don’t bullshit me, Randall. You screwed up. If that file gets leaked everyone is going to think that I drove Lisa to her death.” Her voice wavered but she steadied it. “I won’t allow Marian to win this one.”
“Marian didn’t win the last one, Your Honor. Kate Lange advised her to not proceed with the matter. She saved your as—your reputation.” And the firm’s, he realized. She hadn’t deserved the dressing down he had given her.
“That’s bullshit. She destroyed my reputation,” Hope said tightly. “With the police. She should never have called them. I will never forgive her for that.”
What you mean is you’ll never forgive yourself. But would she ever realize that? Or just hate Kate for showing everyone that her mother-in-law’s lawyer cared more than she did. Knowing Hope, it was a bitter pill that would never be swallowed.
“Just make sure that file doesn’t contain anything the media could use against me.”
Her words reverberated between them. He stared at his law degree mounted on the wall opposite him. He knew what Hope was demanding. To do what she wanted, he’d have to violate not only his legal ethics, but his own personal ethics. Not to mention betray Kate Lange’s trust.
He lowered his voice. “Hope, don’t ask me to do this…”
“Please.” There was a catch to her voice.
He closed his eyes. This woman’s only child had been horribly murdered. And from Kate’s notes, there would be no question Hope had let the girl down before she died. Maybe Lisa had been in the wrong place at the wrong time because despair over her mother had sent her there.
“Randall, I’m asking this as a personal favor.” Her voice was bleak. He couldn’t imagine—refused to imagine—being in her shoes right now. She had enough to live with. She didn’t need the whole city to be aware of her failings. Especially since he’d heard a rumor that she was being considered for the empty spot on the Supreme Court. That might be the only thing to get her through this ordeal.
“All right,” he said softly.
She inhaled sharply. It sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Thank you.” The phone went dead.
Randall put down the receiver and stared at it for a long moment.
He pushed back his chair and rose heavily to his feet. Kate’s office was on the floor below him. He headed down the hallway.
Twice he paused, ready to turn back to his office. What he was about to do went against everything he had worked for, everything he stood for. But then his mind invariably returned to Hope’s daughter, lying in a coffin with her toy dog. Hope’s daughter, who had died a horrible, unimaginable death. How could any parent live with the knowledge that they had failed their child when they needed them most? From the sound of Hope’s voice—bleak and hopeless and angry—the knowledge was eating away at her. He couldn’t make her suffering worse. He had been spared. His own daughter was safe and happy in her blue-and-green bedroom in Toronto, surrounded by her stuffed animals and people who loved her. He didn’t really believe in God, and yet he couldn’t help but hope that this act of charity toward Hope might keep his daughter safe from the wolves that prowled the streets.
He turned down the corridor toward Kate’s office. It was quiet, the air-conditioning turned off for the weekend. He half hoped she’d be in her office. Then he’d be saved from the decision he had made.
But she wasn’t. Her chair was empty. Although when he stepped into her office he had the sense she was there, leaning against her desk, those long legs crossed at her slim ankles, arms folded. Watching him, disappointment and betrayal written in those startling eyes of hers. Eyes that could ignite his pulse.
He frowned. She had gotten too far under his skin. He didn’t know how it had happened, but it had. It had to stop. He could not get involved with her, with any lawyer in his firm—not after what his wife had put him through—but especially her. John Lyons’ protégée.
He didn’t want Kate
Lange in his head anymore.
He strode toward the filing cabinet and found what he was looking for. He knew without a doubt that Kate would put two and two together.
She’d get the message loud and clear.
No one took a stand against the bull without getting gored.
Chapter 19
Damn. Kate couldn’t believe it. It was 9:21 a.m. on a Sunday morning and Randall Barrett’s car was already in the parking lot. Didn’t the guy have a life?
She drove up another level of the parkade and left her car in the dimmest corner. Her errand would only take a few minutes, but she was taking no chances.
She took the elevator to LMB’s associates’ floor and ran her security pass through the reader. Her palms broke out in a cold sweat.
The halls were hushed as she hurried down the corridor. She breathed a small sigh of relief. No one else was working this morning. Except, of course, Randall Barrett.
She turned the corner and strode into her office, heading straight for the file cabinet. She pulled out the MacAdam folder and flipped it open.
Her fingers began to shake.
The folder contained only one sheet of paper. The one Randall had given her, with the simple notation Marian MacAdam. Custody matter.
What had happened to the rest of the file? Panic made her fingers clumsy. She pawed through the folders and Post-it notes in her drawer. No notes.
She racked her memory. The last time she’d seen the notes was the day the police detectives had come to her office. She remembered putting the file in her filing cabinet.
She opened the filing cabinet again. This time she combed through every file from A to Z, searching in the folders and between them to see if the notes somehow had fallen in.
They hadn’t.
Where were they?
She dropped to her hands and knees behind her desk, looking under the credenza, her desk, chair, and behind her bookcase. No sign of them.
She stood. Her glance fell on the clock. It was 10:03 a.m.
Her heart sank as her panic rose. She couldn’t even write out another copy. The harder she thought back to her meeting with Marian MacAdam, the more blank her memory became.
The clock ticked another minute: 10:04 a.m. Ethan would be at her house right now, wondering where she was. She grabbed the folder, Marian MacAdam’s name blurring in front of her eyes, and ran to her car. As she drove down the ramp, she noticed Randall’s car was gone.
Her mind jolted.
She had been about to breach her own legal ethics by giving the notes to Ethan to read. Now someone had beaten her to it.
It could only be one person.
Randall Barrett. He wouldn’t be worried about the repercussions of being caught.
He had a personal relationship with Judge Carson.
His ballsiness took her breath away.
He knew that she could only challenge him if she was willing to lose her job.
She wasn’t. She had mortgaged her life to LMB.
Pain tightened her chest. Why had he done this to her? After that look she’d caught on his face in his office, she’d thought there had been a rapprochement of sorts. She’d thought he’d be willing to comfort her. Hell, she’d thought he desired her. There had been a moment of awareness between them that had shaken her to the core.
And now he stole from her.
Damn him. Damn him for making her feel like this. She clenched her teeth and forced the pain of his betrayal down.
She wouldn’t confront Randall Barrett about his theft.
But she could never trust him again.
She pulled into her driveway. Ethan stood on the porch, leaning against a post. He had a coffee in each hand. He gave her a small smile when he saw her.
Her stomach churned.
“Hi.” He was freshly showered, his hair still damp at the ends. His T-shirt showed his fit physique. She could almost feel the soft cotton warmed by his skin, the broad rounded muscles of his shoulders underneath.
She stepped carefully around him, putting her key in the door. “You’d better come in.”
He straightened at her tone and followed her inside. Alaska padded toward her, ready for his welcome. She scratched his ears hurriedly.
“Look,” Ethan said, “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay.” Although they could both tell from her voice that she didn’t mean it. She rubbed her arm.
Ethan handed her a coffee. “I bought this for you.”
“Thanks.”
Silence was a black hole of recrimination between them. Who would fall into the abyss first? she wondered.
“Did you bring the notes?” Ethan asked.
His question gave her the answer. She’d be the first to make the plunge. “I brought the file.”
“Good.” He relaxed, sipped his coffee. Waited expectantly.
Here goes. She took a deep breath and blurted, “The notes are gone.”
He stared at her. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“They aren’t in the file. Look.” She thrust the file folder at him, wondering in the next instant why she did so. It only contained a single piece of paper with one line scrawled on it. Ethan flipped open the cover. His lips pressed together. He looked up at her. His eyes searched her face. “So what happened to them?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I searched all over my office, under the desk, in the drawers—” She stopped abruptly. She was babbling. “I don’t know.”
“Did you change your mind?”
“No. I was going to give the notes to you.”
“So you didn’t destroy them?”
“No.”
“Hide them?”
“No!”
“Give them to someone else.”
“Ethan, I told you I don’t know what happened to them!”
“So someone stole them.” He gave her a skeptical look.
“I guess so.”
“Who would do that, Kate?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to voice her suspicions about Randall. With the bad blood between Ethan and her boss, it would be adding oxygen to a wildfire. This was between her and her managing partner. And there would come a time when she would make Randall account for this. He wouldn’t get away with it.
“You don’t know?” Ethan’s eyes gleamed. “I think you do.”
She took a sip of her coffee. It scalded her tongue. “No. I don’t.”
He studied the page in the folder. “This isn’t your handwriting, is it, Kate?”
She looked away. “No.”
“Who assigned you the file?”
She hesitated for a second. It was fatal.
Suspicion tightened his face.
She answered with quiet resignation. “Randall Barrett.”
He slammed the folder shut. “That bastard. He took the notes.”
“You don’t know that, Ethan.”
“Yes. I do.”
“Why would he do that? He assigned me the file because he had no interest in the client, Ethan!” She was panicking now. Would Ethan confront Randall? She didn’t want to think about the fallout of that. She’d be exposed, fired, thrown out on her butt, lose her income, her house, her reputation, all because she’d tried to assuage her conscience and help Ethan with his investigation.
What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive…
“Really? Maybe he assigned you the client for another reason.”
“Like what?”
“’Cause he wants to screw you.” His deliberate crudeness was meant to offend.
A heat rose in her chest. She glared at him. “That’s so off base you have no idea.” She hoped he couldn’t see the truth of what he said in her eyes.
“So why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes. You are.” He took a swig of his coffee. “Has Barrett made a pass at you yet?”
You jerk.
That hit too close to home. “No. He has more finesse than you.”
Ethan’s face tightened. “I told you—”
“Randall didn’t even hire me.” She cut him off, her voice razor sharp. She wasn’t going to stand there and let him point fingers. Time to set the record straight. “John Lyons did. And the fact you could suggest that I was hired for a reason other than my skills shows how little you knew me. Just because Randall Barrett made you doubt your abilities on the Clarkson case doesn’t mean he doubts mine!” She stopped abruptly, her chest heaving. The lies never seemed to stop coming when she was around Ethan.
“You think I’d worry about some arrogant bastard when the Court of Appeal said he was full of shit?” His voice reverberated with a bravado that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was lying, too, she realized with a start. “And now you’ve gone to work for him and his fucking firm.”
“I don’t have to explain my career decisions to you.” Now. Her eyes challenged him to refute this new truth.
“It was a big mistake, Kate,” he said curtly. “You can’t go work for a bastard like that and not get smeared by the shit he mucks around in.” He shook the file folder. “Case in point.”
She crossed her arms. “I was prepared to muck around in it for you.”
His lips tightened. “We need to find Lisa’s killer.”
“So that makes it okay? When it’s for the greater good?”
“Yes. It does.” He dropped the folder on the hall table and opened the front door. “Goodbye.” His tone was heavy. Final. He wouldn’t be showing up on her doorstep again.
He was almost at his car when his cell phone rang. He waited until he got into the front seat, then answered the relentless chime. “Detective Drake.”
“Ethan, it’s Deb.”
“Yeah?” He started the engine. He wanted to get away from Kate’s house. ASAP.
“I’m calling in the team.” Her tone was clipped. “We’ve got another victim.”
Chapter 20
Monday, May 7, 9:00 a.m.
Kate sat back on her heels.
[Kate Lange 01.0] Damaged Page 14