by Cara Putman
She stopped as soon as she entered, because instead of waiting in the cramped chair in front of her desk, the partner was plopped in her desk chair rifling through the files on her small credenza. “Can I help you?”
“Get this case refiled.” He held up an accordion file that contained the Rodriguez investigation. “Our client is getting impatient and threatening to switch firms.”
Hayden frowned, as her last interaction with Maricel hadn’t indicated her client was unhappy about the case. “Maricel didn’t say anything to me.”
“She’s not footing the bill, McCarthy.”
“Then let me talk to her husband.”
“No can do . . . I’ll run interference. What I need from you is reportable movement.”
Hayden let his words settle between them. “Gerard, is there anything I need to know? Does it involve Daniel Rodriguez?”
“Not anything to tell.”
“All right.”
His look telegraphed to stop pushing.
“I’m working on it. Had a conversation this morning with a woman in Texas who doesn’t realize Miguel is dead, let alone died while detained.”
Gerard spun his hand in a “get talking” motion.
“How can Texas not know? He died in its custody. The government has files on everything, so this smells like a cover-up.” She took a deep breath and studied her boss. Would he consider her idea? The only way to know was to ask. “Director Snowden received the notice of deposition. I want to press him for a date and head to Texas. I can poke around while there.”
“No.”
“Then I can’t file the complaint.”
“Then you don’t have a job.”
Hayden froze and her thoughts whirled. Hadn’t he threatened her job when he’d told her to get to Texas earlier this week? “I don’t understand.”
“There are no firm funds for extra expenses. I’ve already told you this, McCarthy.”
“But you also told me to get there.”
He looked blankly at her.
She took another tack. “It’s not extra if there’s no case without it.”
“Find another way.” His jaw squared as his stare bored into her.
“If this client is so important, it’s critical we do this case right.”
“To the partners it’s simple.” He leaned forward and rose out of his chair to lean on the desk. “Get the complaint refiled and the case settled or you’re done.”
She nodded. “I’ve spent a week trying to find information. I’ve talked to our client and so many people in different agencies my head’s spinning. I’ve scoured the file and used our resources. It’s like Miguel ceased to exist when he crossed the border.”
“Then work the death certificate angle. Someone issued it.”
Hayden didn’t bother telling him Leigh had called that agency a dozen times and heard nothing, not even a reply voice mail. “I’ll keep trying.”
He took a deep breath and met her gaze. “Hayden, I picked you for this case. Convinced the partners to go along with the assignment. You can do this. Don’t get so caught up in having all the information that you don’t refile.”
“But we need essential information.”
“That’s what post-filing discovery is for.” He pushed to his feet, knocking a file to the floor. “Get it done.”
Hayden bit back words as he left. If she waited, she risked more evidence being scrubbed as squeaky-clean as the file Judy Foster had read. She sank into her chair and clutched her head. Gerard was usually an intense but easy partner to work with. He knew what he wanted, pointed you in the right direction, and then got out of the way. Not this time. She had a preferred way to handle this case, but he’d made it clear she’d have to file regardless of what she thought, or risk her job. The thought sank like a stone in her stomach. With trembling fingers she gathered the files Gerard had rummaged through and reordered them. Then she picked up the Rodriguez file he’d dropped.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Leigh’s face was a mask of apology. She set a package roughly the size of a file box on the corner of Hayden’s desk. “A courier dropped this off while you were at lunch.”
“Thanks.”
“Is there anything I can get you?” Concern laced her voice.
Hayden shook her head as she gathered her scissors from her desk drawer. “I’m fine.” If she said it with enough force maybe she’d convince herself.
Leigh nodded, then returned to her desk in the hallway. Hayden looked for a return address on the package, but there was only the name of a Texas town she’d never heard of. Maybe they could track the shipping account if needed. When she opened the box, she found an old issue of the Waco Tribune Herald smushed around a black backpack. The bag was nondescript, with wear and tear that indicated it had been through intense use.
Hayden tugged it free and examined the outside. There were no tags or identifying labels. Then she opened the front pocket and ran her fingers around the inside. Empty. She unzipped the top and saw a hodgepodge of belongings carelessly stuffed inside. She pulled each item out and inventoried two pairs of jeans, a couple T-shirts, a hoodie, some socks and underwear. All looked to be the right size for an average male teenager.
Hayden frowned and looked in the box. Underneath where the backpack had sat was an envelope. When she opened it, she found a short letter addressed to Maricel Rodriguez.
Señora Rodriguez,
Inside are the sole items your son brought into the United States at the time of his detention. Stop your search. This is all there ever was.
Carlton Snowden, Director
Hayden reread the letter. What a callous way to transmit the belongings of a dead child. She set the letter down and checked the pockets of the jeans and hoodie and then shook each item of clothing. Nothing had been tucked inside a pocket or crumpled with the mess of clothes. If this was truly all Miguel brought to the United States, it didn’t provide a motive for murder.
She buzzed Leigh. “Could you let Mr. Campbell know we have Miguel’s backpack? Then I’d like you to create a short inventory and put it in locked storage. We can let his mother know it’s here if she’d like to claim it.”
As she hung up, Hayden’s gaze fell back on the backpack. It was a sad testimony to a life cut short for seemingly no reason.
CHAPTER 19
SATURDAY, APRIL 8
The forecast called for showers around noon. Showers that Andrew hoped never appeared, so he and Hayden could enjoy the Cherry Blossom Festival. He needed the distraction after receiving another e-mail from Anonymous. Guess this guy didn’t operate on a work week time frame.
The message was equally short this time.
What would your dad think if he knew? What would the party and hotshot donors think? I’d like to find out.
Nothing like reading that over a mug of coffee first thing Saturday morning. Andrew considered the fallout that might loom with exposure. Some power brokers wouldn’t mind. They had a good sense of humor. Others would demand his head.
Andrew studied his tablet screen, but the words didn’t suddenly morph into a message about a pleasant surprise. As a kid he’d thought the Lone Ranger and other masked men had an aura of sophistication and mystery. He didn’t want to learn what it was like to become unmasked, especially since that always caused trouble for his childhood heroes.
The next e-mail in his in-box revealed that Luke hadn’t been able to track down the source of the first message. Andrew reread the anonymous e-mails and felt anger boil inside him.
He had planned to use the next hour finishing details on this week’s cartoon. A vote on legalizing recreational marijuana use had seemed like the perfect subject when he’d started the week.
He ran his fingers through his hair and vigorously scrubbed his scalp.
He sat at the table another few minutes, tried to think and pray, felt nothing except the slightest urge to tell his editor. Where one e-mail had felt like a fluke, the second made it an ugly reality
that had to be confronted. It might be Saturday, but Michael would either take his call or Andrew would leave a cryptic message.
“Turner.”
“Hey, Michael.” Andrew told the editor about the two e-mails. “Has anything surfaced about the true identity of Roger Walters?”
“We treat it like the Holy Grail around here. Only two or three of us know your name.”
“No security breaches or anything like that?”
Michael harrumphed, his New York attitude breaking out a bit. “Nope. Holy Grail, man.”
Andrew rubbed his damp palms on his jeans. “All right. Let me know if anything comes up, okay?”
“Sure. And since we’re talking . . . you have something coming by Tuesday?”
“It’ll be ready. Just needs some finishing work.”
“Perfect. Talk to ya then.”
Andrew stared at the phone a moment before tossing it on the table. He headed up to his loft and studied the sketch on his drawing desk. The sketch needed spit and polish before it was ready to scan and send over, but it wasn’t bad.
He pulled out a black Prismacolor pen and deepened the dark boundary of the White House. A few light strokes and he’d added a shadow.
A timer beeped from downstairs, and he capped the pen before replacing it in its position. Time to put the e-mails and cartoon out of his mind and instead focus on cherry blossoms and Hayden McCarthy.
“What am I supposed to wear?” Hayden stared in the mirror while Emilie lounged on her bed. Agreeing to go to the Cherry Blossom Festival with Andrew Wesley had been a terrible idea. “He’ll take one look at me and know he’s completely lost his mind.”
Emilie flipped to a page in the magazine she’d brought upstairs with her and then handed the issue to her. “Take a look.”
Hayden glanced at the cover and frowned. “The Insider Washington Most Eligible Bachelor issue. Why would I want to see this?” Then she looked more closely at the pictures of the featured men and froze. “Emilie . . . .”
“I didn’t want you blindsided.”
“What? They’ve started selling copies of this at the Jefferson Memorial?” Hayden’s voice rose with each word. She scanned the article. “Oh no, no, no. Tell me I am not spending time with the man who ‘travels around the DC elite circuit with only the top.’”
“I might have phrased it more artfully, but it’s not anything you didn’t already know.”
“Except now it’s in black and white. In front of me.” But Andrew’s picture wasn’t in black and white. It was an explosion of colored perfection, reminding her in minute detail why he was out of her league. “He grew up in country clubs. I was lucky to get invited to the bowling league.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Emilie snagged the magazine from Hayden and swatted her with it. “You can’t pretend you’re not good enough because of your old zip code. Nebraska’s lovely.” She grimaced as if she’d stepped in a cow pie. “Sometimes. Anyway, I guarantee Andrew would have traded all of this to have a real family.”
“His dad is a congressman.” Hayden pointed in the direction of the capitol. “The man makes policy decisions that affect our lives every single day.”
“That might be a slight exaggeration.” Emilie held up two fingers in a pinching motion. “But you had a real family. Real laughs. Real love. Andrew didn’t.”
“And real tears.” Hayden picked at a piece of lint on the sweater that topped her jeans. “Look at me. I look like I’m dressed to rake leaves.” She’d spent time agonizing in front of her closet. She sank to the edge of the bed. “Maybe I should cancel.”
“Or relax and have a good time with a great guy.” Emilie slid closer until their shoulders touched. “Hayden, you couldn’t spend time with a nicer man. You know I adore him.”
“We don’t have anything in common.” Hayden sighed as she thought about his silver-spoon upbringing colliding with her small-town reality. “I’m no good at this, Em.”
“Then don’t force it. Just go and relax for a couple hours. I know you. If he hadn’t invited you, another year would evaporate without your having a single date.”
“But I have cases.”
“And before you had classes.” Emilie stood up. “Don’t go away, I’ll be right back.” She disappeared down the stairs and a few moments later returned, holding out a simple flower-print dress and jean jacket.
“I’ll look like a floral-shop explosion.”
“No, you’ll look ready for a relaxing stroll around the Tidal Basin.”
“If it’s so great, come with us. You could use the fresh air too.”
As the doorbell rang, Emilie stood and blocked the door. “I’ll buy you a few minutes. Andrew can never resist a mug of my coffee.” Before Hayden could protest, her roommate disappeared downstairs, leaving her with the dress and a knot in her stomach.
Soon laughter filtered upstairs as she heard the clank of ceramic on the kitchen counter. She loved her roommate, but Emilie lived life at full volume. As another round of laughter filtered upstairs, Hayden glanced at the dress and then at her jeans. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it dressed as Emilie suggested. Maybe Andrew wouldn’t see through her facade. After all, it was only an hour or two.
Andrew bit back a stab of disappointment when Emilie answered the door. He tried to hide the bouquet of daisies, the ones that looked so right in the grocery store and now looked underwhelming when he was headed to spend the next hours with millions of cherry blossoms.
Emilie’s grin widened as she glanced from him to the bouquet. “Nice touch, Wesley. Women love flowers.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Emilie’s laugh surely carried to wherever Hayden hid. “I’m sure your tab is overwhelming. How many bouquets does that make this week?”
Not her too. “Em . . .”
She stepped back to make room for him. “Well, you are one of the ten most eligible bachelors.”
He groaned and set the flowers on the tiny table. “Tell me you didn’t say that.”
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t be your favorite cousin and surrogate sister if I didn’t tease you. Want a cup of coffee?”
“Hayden not ready?”
“The magazine about scared her away.”
Andrew leaned against the counter and nodded. “I think I’ll have that coffee.” He watched as she popped in a fresh pod and then hit brew. “I didn’t ask for the article, you know.”
“You never do, Andrew. These things come to you.”
“I’d rather they didn’t.”
“The real question is whether you want the women that article will send. Or are you ready for someone real?”
He was still pondering her statement when Hayden came downstairs. She wore a bright dress that revealed shapely calves leading to painted toes peeking from comfortable sandals. She smiled, but didn’t really meet his gaze. Was she nervous? Today would have been so much easier if that blasted list hadn’t been published. Who came up with those things anyway?
As he escorted Hayden to his Jeep, he wondered . . . was she more real than the women his mom thought he should entertain? She’d lived in DC long enough to lose the ability to reveal who she really was. Some days masks made life easier, but it would be refreshing to find someone without one.
As he looked at her, and fought the desire to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, he wanted Hayden McCarthy to be different. If she was who he hoped she might be, he wanted to know her. She would be worth the risk.
CHAPTER 20
As Andrew helped Hayden from his Jeep, the reality hit her in the chest. She lived in the nation’s capital.
There was only one Mall. One White House. It was like walking in a post card. And she lived here, could see it every day if she wanted. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a pinch-me moment in this incredible city, but it was the first time it had been under the canopy of white blossoms.
The sidewalk around the Tidal Basin was a crush of people, and a glorious mix o
f nationalities. Tourists had descended in full force to take in the beauty of the Japanese gift to the American people years before.
As they merged with the tourists enjoying the delicate pink and white explosion of blossoms, Andrew strolled next to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. As she studied his strong profile she wondered, did he regret asking her? The invitation had sounded spontaneous, but he sat squarely on DC’s A-list. She didn’t. She brushed the thought away—the fact that a magazine had named him to some eligible bachelor list shouldn’t shake her core belief in herself. He had invited her, had brought her daisies, and she would enjoy every minute of the escape. Maybe it was just the break she needed to come back to the Rodriguez case with fresh eyes.
Before she could yank her gaze from his chiseled jaw and hooded expression, Andrew gave her a sideways glance. “What?”
She slid her hands into her pockets, mirroring his stance. “Thanks for inviting me. This is more beautiful than any photo can convey.”
He looked at her, a slow grin breaking through. “I’m glad. Forgive me for seeming distracted. I got an e-mail this morning I’m having a hard time shaking.”
She sucked in a breath and stopped, the crowd flowing around them. “Is there any way I can help?”
He shook his head, then straightened. “I’d share if I could. But hey, we’re here in this incredible moment, so let’s enjoy.”
Hayden searched his eyes and then nodded. She did want to be here, in this exact place at this precise moment. And acknowledging that, even to herself, sent a shiver of fear and wonder through her.
Her gaze slid from Andrew to the crowd around them and landed on a swarthy man standing behind him, his eyes laser-focused on her. Her arms jerked protectively around her stomach as she watched him.
Andrew’s eyebrows squished together and he blinked at her. “What?”
“Don’t turn around, but there’s a man watching me.” Hayden scanned the area around and then back to the man. Yep, he was still locked on her.