Rascal (Edgewater Agency Book 2)

by Kyanna Skye

  He sat with his head down, his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him as if he had not noticed her arrival. Feeling her nervousness growing she crossed the expanse between the front door and the desk, uncertain if she should clear her throat or not get the elder man’s attention or if she should just introduce herself.

  He saved her the trouble. “Ms. Lombardo,” he said without looking up from his work. “Please, come and sit down.”

  Doing as she was bidden she moved and settled into one of the two leather chairs facing the desk and the smaller man behind it. Still, he did not look up from his papers as he worked, his pen working fervently to complete whatever task he had been stuck with.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She paused, a little stunned by the question. “Excuse me?”

  “Lester & Desoto isn’t your run of the mill legal firms, Ms. Lombardo. We’re one of the top one percent of all legal teams in the country. The rich… the influential… those with the most to lose – especially if they’re even remotely guilty and anyone can see that – are the ones who come to us. They pay us to keep them out of prison… or in some cases to keep them from losing everything in the divorce. Every case that we take here is worth millions. Hundreds of millions, even. That’s a lot of weight to bear, especially if you fail. So I ask again, are you ready?”

  She stiffened her spine, though she had not let her posture slip one bit since she had sat a moment before. “Of course I am, Mr. Desoto. I was top of my class and I–”

  “I’m well aware of your qualifications, Ms. Lombardo. We pride ourselves on knowing everything we can about the people we hire. How do you think you got here? You’re fresh out of law school and you get a job here, of all places. We didn’t take you in because we’re a sympathy cause. You were top of your class, out of hundreds, from the best school for this kind of work. All the right marks, you wrote the best papers, you killed yourself in your undergrad school and you doubled that in legal school. You come from a family that was famous for its work in the legal system, which was a point in your favor that set you apart from the others. And your reputation among your professors, as well as your peers, has it that you’re one who can get things done. It’s why we brought you on to this team without the formal interview nonsense. Did I miss anything?”

  Jamie felt like she had just been lectured like a recruit in a military camp, but she didn’t feel the need to complicate matters. Everything seemed complicated already. “No, sir, you didn’t.”

  “Good. Are you ready for your first assignment?”

  She frowned with a slight tinge of worry, but the elder man didn’t seem to notice as he had yet to look up from his papers. “My first assignment?”

  Still not looking away from his work he pushed a leather-bound folder across his desk towards her and went right back to his writing.

  She took the folder and opened it. Within was a legal brief, detailing a small case history and the transcript of a trial that was dated three years prior. She noticed quickly that some of the files had been redacted, blacked out with a magic marker. An unusual practice for a legal document, not to mention more than slightly illegal since this wasn’t the CIA. She scanned the most pertinent details on the case folder that she could find and noticed that the name on the folder was blank. The mystery of it was so overwhelming that she found that she wasn’t able to comprehend what she was hearing. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll come right to the point, Ms. Lombardo. We brought you onboard because your ideas are radical and you think outside the box. That’s something that this firm needs. We believe that we can use someone like you and to that end, we’ve decided to give you one of our highest profile cases. Inside that folder, you’ll find a small packet containing your travel plans.”

  “Travel plans?” she asked, flipping through the folder and looking for the aforementioned packet.

  “We’re sending you to Colorado,” Desoto went on as though she had not spoken. “Your first case is a man that this firm has a – shall we say – large interest in. Your task will be to function as his counselor. All the details will be made available to you when you arrive at your destination.”

  “Sir,” she said, feeling uneasy speaking thusly to a man whose name was on the building she was in, but felt it was necessary. “Some of this file has been redacted. That’s illegal, especially for a law firm, and I can’t see what other details might be provided for me that should already be in this file.”

  Desoto’s face remained neutral as he spoke. “The client mentioned in that folder was a former employee of this firm. The copy you’re holding there isn’t the original document, it’s merely a copy and the details pertinent to your task have been left in. Everything redacted is trivial and unimportant. But suffice it to say that your first client has information that we need that he did not disclose during his trial… it was considered privileged information and thus was not open for discussion, even behind closed doors.”

  Though this was her first day on the job, she knew that that was unusual. Whenever anything came to trial, all pertinent information relevant to the case either for defense or prosecution had to be disclosed to all parties involved. If anything was withheld from either party it would have been declared a mistrial.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Desoto said, interrupting her train of thought. “But you’re wrong. The information that was withheld would only have helped the man we’re sending you to meet, but he never gave it up. We’re sending you to get it from him.” He paused and for the first time, he looked up from his work to meet her eyes. Her earlier assessment of him being a hungry lion, she now saw, would have been something of an understatement. He was more akin to some kind of a hungry and mythical sea monster that had learned to walk on dry land, but no less dangerous. “And we expect it to be done by any means necessary. Above all, you are not to share the nature of your assignment with anyone outside of this room. Is that understood?”

  There was a subtle malice in the man’s words, very much in fact like the growling of a lion. If she could have put words to it, it would have translated as “I can eat you or I can scare you. What’s it going to be?” Jamie knew that she had been given an order. And like a soldier should, she knew that when she had been given an order the best thing to do was to obey it.

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Good,” Desoto said, going back to his papers. “Then you’d better get going. Your plane leaves in four hours and I imagine that you’re not packed. I’d recommend summer clothes… Colorado gets hot this time of year.”

  She felt a tingle in her belly that she knew to be nervousness. Not nervousness because she felt unequal to the task, but nervousness born of being unprepared. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Uh, Mr. Desoto, I don’t mean to overstep my bounds… but this seems highly irregular. This legal brief you gave me isn’t even complete… there’s no name on it. You haven’t even told me what it is that I’m looking for. How can I be expected to complete this task that you’ve given me?”

  Again, not looking up from his work, Desoto just sighed as he responded. “Your work in law school suggested that you were good at figuring things out with less to go on. We brought you on because we liked that about you. Are you suggesting that we made an error in judgment?”

  There was no direct malice to his words this time, but she did sense that she was like a moth flying dangerously close to a flame. It was better to retreat than to press the issue any further. “No, sir. You haven’t.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. In any event, more details will be provided to you once you reach your destination, Ms. Lombardo. And I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you that everyone here at this firm has the utmost confidence in you and that you will no doubt carry a great deal of our respect if you return to us with success.”

  There was a finality to the words that was hard to miss. She understood that she had been dismissed. She rose to her feet, gathered up her briefcase in one
hand and took the leather-bound folder under her other arm and smiled at the man who had only met her eyes once in the strangest – and admittedly only – induction speech that she had ever heard.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, turning and heading for the door.

  “Ms. Lombardo,” Desoto called after her.

  She paused and turned to look at the elder man, who still had hardly acknowledged her presence. Keeping with his work he added, “Welcome to our little family, I’m sure you’ll be quite happy here.”

  Saying no more, Jamie quickly turned and left the office.

  Once she was out and in the hallway beyond, she felt her heart quickening to a pace that she had never experienced before in the whole of her life. She looked at her watch and the whole of the situation splashed on her as though she had woken from a strange dream. It was her first day at work, she had only been here less than fifteen minutes, and she was being sent off on what was apparently an important assignment, and with incomplete details.

  She wondered for a moment if her father had ever endured such a thing before during his days, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside as she returned to the golden elevator and swiped her keycard across the reader. Once inside the elevator, she turned her thoughts to what to pack for the trip.

  She had managed to pack a bag in record time and managed to make it to the airport just in time to catch her flight. She had flown coach, which surprised her when she finally had a moment to evaluate her situation. This fact had been lost on her in the hurry of it all when she weighed what she already knew of her current employers. Shouldn’t Lester & Desoto have their own private jet? Likely, they did… but they had seen fit not to give her use of it. Why? Perhaps it was because she was the new kid in school? That seemed plausible. Even being new and with her academic career as distinguished as it was, she had yet to earn her stripes. Maybe it was also because the jet was otherwise in use? That too seemed possible.

  She gave up on such thoughts as she returned to her legal brief for the umpteenth time since she had left the office. She spent the entire flight looking at it and committing every detail to memory and trying to extrapolate what it was that she was supposed to be doing.

  It all came back to one inescapable fact: it was a pretty strange thing, this assignment. And what she was able to infer from the reading was that her client – whoever it was – was up to their neck in some pretty serious shit. The transcript, she learned, was not only redacted but fragmented. She had read – even written – several such things as part of her education. From that, she was able to see that her brief had spanned at least three days’ worth of court appearances. So this matter hadn’t been settled as quickly as she had originally thought. Even so, there were gaps in the transcript and in the details prior and post of the hearings. Again this whole affair struck her as odd that she was not being given the details of what her task was, or of whom her client was.

  They’re testing me, she thought, when her flight had been less than an hour away from landing and she finally closed her file folder. They want to see how good my academic theories hold up in the field. She looked at the sealed folder in her lap and lightly drummed the smooth leathery surface of it with her fingers. They want to determine if I’m worth everything that I say I am before they give me the really big jobs.

  That seemed logical.

  There was just one flaw. If this job was as big as Mr. Desoto had said it was, why had she gotten it? Why hadn’t they started her out on something small? Something that was not as important?

  She took what she knew already. She was a budding lawyer, fresh out of law school with aspirations to be the confidant and representative to the wealthy, influential, and the guilty. She had no illusions about the latter. Law school had taught her that she would have to learn to defend people even if she knew that they were guilty. She had had little difficulty in accepting that fact and for one simple reason: guilty people paid better. But even like any seasoned lawyer, she had to show that she was the best at what she did.

  Her academics had certainly proved that she was, as Mr. Desoto had said, an “out of the box” thinker. Even her theories had challenged some of the core principles that her professors had held to be true and unshakable. In some cases, at the very least, she had given them pause for reconsideration of some of them. Maybe her new employers wanted proof that her theories were right.

  I’m a guinea pig, she realized. That made more sense than other thoughts that had crossed her mind. If they gave her a job that was as big as Mr. Desoto had claimed like this one, it was the equivalent of throwing a child into the deep end of the pool. Sink or swim, to use the cliché. If she was a success at this job, then they would welcome her in with open arms and a magical key card that opened golden elevator doors. But if she failed and her theories proved wrong, then she would remain, essentially, a nobody. Someone that they could toss aside as if she was nothing.

  She was new, inexperienced, and expendable; an unholy trinity that was cause enough for concern in the legal world. And to be handed a case that was as important as this for her first trial run?

  She felt the cold tingle of sweat on the small of her back.

  I can do this, she assured herself as the fasten seatbelt light came on overhead. I know that I’m right and I know that I can do this. It won’t be a problem, not at all.

  The force of the plane landing crushed any last doubts that she had. She knew that her theories of certain legal practices would hold up in practical applications. Much of the legal system was dedicated to hard facts and intimidating words. Sometimes, a softer approach was what was required. Soft… but firm.

  When the passengers disembarked from the plane she felt the heat of the Colorado air about her and she saw that Mr. Desoto had been right. It was plenty hot here. Despite that, she felt a cool confidence about her and a winning smile touched her face.

  I won’t fail. She was certain of that.

  After collecting her luggage she followed the itinerary provided for her in her travel plans. She was able to rent a car and drove the rest of the way from the airport to the hotel in which she would be staying. After checking in and getting her luggage squared away she checked where it was that she was to be going next.

  According to the brief, it was simply a place called Hahn’s Peak. But there was no address. What was Hahn’s Peak? A mountain resort? Some kind of a restaurant? A meeting place of some sort?

  She checked her phone and searched for it. A few seconds later the top result was something that both shocked and worried her. Her phone stared back at her with the list of answers for her simple inquest: Hahn’s Peak Correctional Facility.

  “It’s a prison?” she asked the empty room as if hoping there was someone within earshot that could answer her question. She did several more checks, all with the same result, making sure that Hahn’s Peak was not a restaurant or some other public venue that she might be overlooking. But each result was the same; there was only Hahn’s Peak correctional facility. Unconvinced, she pulled out her trusty laptop and did several other internet searches and all of them turned up the same result. Hahn’s Peak was indeed a prison.

  She leaned back in the uncomfortable motel room chair and gaped at the screen that seemed as taunting at her phone had been. She watched and waited, hoping that perhaps this was some kind of an elaborate joke. Colorado was the marijuana center of the nation; she hoped that some lackey – high on the local product – had made a massive clerical error. But as the seconds went by, she realized that it wasn’t going to be so easy.

  “My first client is in prison?” she asked the empty space around her again. Something like that should have been left in the brief.

  She felt a twinge of anger at Mr. Desoto. Attorney-Client privilege was something that didn’t always work well in prison and a man as experienced as Mr. Desoto in this kind of work would know that.

  The first part of the test, she told herself.

  She shook the feeling off. She’d
seen the inside of prisons before and had been able to confer with people on the inside. Some prisons offered conference rooms where they could be monitored under minimal supervision and at least speak in person. Other prisons insisted upon a partition of unbreakable glass and telephones in order for people to speak to one another. Sometimes it was a combination of the two, where she would be sitting in a long line of open phone booths where anyone on either side of her could hear what she had to say.

  And there was little information available on this prison, save for its location and a few details about contact information. That was typical fare for a prison, as overly cautious people did not want details leaking out that could help convicts to escape from within, or for people to help plot an escape from without.

  All that was available, really, was what was in front of her. If she wanted more, she was going to have to go to the prison and try and meet her client firsthand. Isn’t that the way of it anyway?

  She sighed and took a calming breath, then looked at her watch. From the itinerary, she knew that she would have to meet with her client firsthand anyway. Traveling from New York to Colorado had gained her two hours of time and she’d already adjusted her watch to match the local time. She had an hour and a half before she was to meet her client and from her searches, she knew that the prison was less than thirty minutes away by drive.

  She sniffed at her clothes, unchanged since she had left home after her strange and brief first interview at work. She gave herself another look in the mirror. She definitely had the look of a traveled person; her new clothes were slightly wrinkled from travel, her hair had lost some of its bounce, her eyes were slightly red, and the quick whiff of her clothes told her that she smelled like the inside of a plane.

  “First impressions,” she reminded herself as she began to undress and headed for the shower.

  When she had bathed and dried her hair, she still had nearly fifty minutes before her meeting was to take place. She changed into another of her business suits. It wasn’t quite as striking as that which her father had bought her, but it had the comfort of familiarity about it. She combed her hair and tied her thick wavy locks into a single ponytail and settled her glasses upon the bridge of her nose.