Call Marilyn. Marilyn picked up on the first ring at the office phone.
“Jackie,” Marilyn’s voice boomed through the receiver, “where in God’s name have you been the last day?”
“Calm down, Marilyn, you’ll lose a hairpin or something,” Jackie said over her assistant’s hysterics. “I’m fine. I’m at home getting ready to come into the office. I’ll explain everything when I get in. What’s so important, anyway? I also had a message from Simon.”
“The Boyers Report”— she paused, her sigh audible— “and the data you took to Boggs’s office are missing.”
“What? How is that possible? Didn’t you save a copy to the system?”
“Yes. But it’s gone. I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve been combing through the files and can’t find anything. Simon doesn’t have it in the stuff we transferred over to him either.”
Jackie pulled the receiver away from her head and swore under her breath. “What about Boggs? He made a copy.”
“This is terrible, but Professor Boggs’s office was broken in to last night. Unfortunately, he was working late and the criminals not only stole a bunch of stuff from his office, but they beat Boggs pretty badly. He’s in the hospital.”
“Oh shit. Have you talked to Simon?”
“Yes, he’s been trying to reach you too. Where have you been? Did you know Brandon Marshfield has been missing for days too? What’s going on here?”
“I have to go. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Jackie was in no mood to begin the explanation of yesterday’s and last night’s events. She could handle facts, but the squishy, emotional stuff made her head throb.
Although the shower never got truly hot, the tepid water’s cascade rinsed off the grime accumulated over the last day. Her mind was cottony from lack of sleep and too much sugar and caffeine. How had this case morphed from a simple investor dispute to burglary, assault, and attempted murder? Even if her theory was correct and she, or rather, Simon, could prove the fraud, why would Ashe resort to hard-core violence?
Surely Brandon wasn’t involved. After all, those guys had shot at him too. Or had they? Were they just after her?
She needed to get into the office. A flip of the wrist and the shower was off. After she toweled off, she ran her fingers through her hair, and a film of slick conditioner coated her hands. She’d forgotten to wash that out. The shower was now ice-cold too.
“Ugh,” she screamed and threw the closest thing, a bottle of shampoo, across the room. It ricocheted off the wall and took out the glass shade on the wall sconce.
“Damn it.” How much would it cost to fix that?
Dressed, but hair still wet, although clear of conditioner, Jackie opened the medicine cabinet, found the bottle of ibuprofen, and opened the cap. The white bottom of the bottle stared up at her.
She carefully set the bottle down on the vanity and pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I’m going to reach for the Tylenol. I’m begging you for it not to be empty.”
The bottle was chock-full. “Yes,” she hissed with a pumped fist.
Her office was only five blocks from her loft. Usually she walked or rode her bike, especially on nice days like today. However, being surrounded by her car provided the sense of security otherwise lacking in her life right now.
At the office, she took the stairs two at a time. The elevator was undergoing maintenance. Again.
Marilyn stood poised at the open door like a Manhattan doorman awaiting visitors to a fancy hotel. “Oh, Jackie”—she fell out of her stance—“you’re safe. Thank God.”
Jackie bolted straight into her office.
Marilyn followed and hovered in the doorway. “I think I’ve figured out what happened to the data.”
Jackie’s fingers flew over her keyboard, logging into the system. With a few clicks, file names filled the monitor. An unusual number of accesses had occurred during the nighttime over the past week. Jackie said, “Yeah, me too; someone has gotten into our system. Look at all of these accesses.”
Marilyn pursed her lips. “Yes, I’m afraid I haven’t been vigilant in checking that.”
Jackie’s head pounded like a bass drum. She pressed her hands onto desk. Tension traveled up through her arms to her shoulders. “This is unacceptable. Are you sure no one had the administrator codes?”
“No one had them except you and me. I swear.”
Jackie rose and stomped toward Marilyn. “That’s impossible. What is going on? You know I suck at the computer thing. That was your job. I trusted you.”
Marilyn took a step back. “This was not my doing. Someone broke into the system.”
Jackie ran her fingers through her hair while she paced back and forth. Although Simon was in charge of the case now, Jackie had been legally and ethically responsible for the information prior to it being sent to the new attorney. The key information disappeared under her watch. That meant she could be liable for malpractice.
She’d already tossed aside a career-making case. A malpractice action would deep-six her law career for sure. “I need the truth. Who had the codes?”
“No one. What’s wrong with you?” Marilyn stepped closer to Jackie and reached out.
Jackie backed away. The last few weeks, her life had spiraled out of her control. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with me? Are you out of your freaking mind? Who, Marilyn? Gary? Are you spying for Gary? You’ve been loyal to him all along, not me. Like all those years you watched him seduce me. Did you ever warn me? No. You just protected him and all his lies. This is just an extension of all that isn’t it? Isn’t it?” Her voice escalated to a screech.
From her cheeks down to her chest, a heat burned her skin.
Trust.
This was what trusting someone got you.
Screwed.
The pounding in her head intensified. She hated herself for trusting. Hated herself even more than the vision of Marilyn feigning disappointment.
“You’re wrong,” Marilyn whispered. “I would never betray you.”
“Leave me alone.” Jackie waved her out and turned her back.
“Jackie North, when will you ever trust someone other than yourself? Life is not solely yours to control.”
A soft pad of footsteps echoed behind Jackie. The sound of drawers opening and closing followed. The front door shut.
Jackie squeezed her eyes tight against the blinding headache. Emptiness tugged at her gut. She smothered the rising guilt. She needed to call Simon and fix this mess.
It didn’t take long to confirm with Simon O’Malley that the critical data from the last production of documents was missing. Simon had already contacted Gary Stone, who was allegedly out of the office. Gary was often conveniently out of the office or in a meeting or on the phone with an important client when he wanted to avoid a conversation. Well, at least dealing with Gary was Simon’s problem now.
She needed to secure the computer system before any more files disappeared, although Jackie suspected that whoever was breaking in to the system had gotten what they wanted.
If Marilyn was behind the break-in, she’d need to disable her access to the system too. Although she knew her way around the various office software products, the network and Internet remained a magical mystery to Jackie. She headed to Marilyn’s work area to see if there were any manuals.
Neatly lined on the shelf behind Marilyn’s desk were ten binders relating to the computer system. Jackie groaned, her thumbs pressed to her temples to block out the throbbing pain in her head.
“Think, North, who do you know who knows computers?” Her fingers drilled harder into her temples.
“Max,” she exclaimed. “He’ll know what to do.”
She dug through her briefcase for her cell phone.
Dead. She hadn’t had time to charge it this morning. Undaunted, she sat down at Marilyn’s desk and moved the mouse to bring up the screen. The administrator’s account blinked on. Marilyn was still logged on. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, bu
t she was clueless as to what to do. She still needed help.
She pulled up the contacts on Marilyn’s computer and scrolled. What was Max’s company called?
There it was. Black Cat Computers. Of course, Max had a bunch of black cats. Nice guy and pretty nice cats, but it had been too weird making out with all of those cats watching her. Luckily, Max didn’t seem to click with her either, but they’d remained friends.
A polite electronic voice answered the phone when she called the number listed in the phone book. She followed the electronic prompts and pressed 3 for customer service. A smooth-voiced man named Jared came on the line.
“Jared, I’m a friend of Max’s and I need some advice on how to secure my system,” said Jackie, realizing how lame her request was.
“What is your account number, ma’am?” the silky-voiced stranger asked.
“I don’t have an account. I’m just a friend of Max’s. Is he there, by the way? Just tell him it’s Jackie. He’ll know who I am.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, Mr. Lauffer’s information is confidential. As you can imagine, quite a few people would like to speak with him personally.”
Jackie tried to remain calm through gritted teeth. “Jared, this is an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m in Toronto, Canada. Mr. Lauffer’s offices are located in Baltimore, Maryland.”
“I know that, Jared. I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, calling a Baltimore, Maryland number. Why are you in Canada?” Jackie took long, deep breaths.
“Outsourced, ma’am,” Jared explained without the slightest hint of annoyance.
“Jared, you have got to help me,” Jackie begged.
“Calm down, ma’am,” he began.
“Calm down? You want me to calm down? I’m not your mother either, Jared, so stop calling me ma’am. This is serious,” she shouted at the receiver, which she held about three inches from her face.
When she brought the receiver back to her face, a buzzing silence echoed through the line. “Jared?”
“I’m still here, but I do insist you calm down. Now, what exactly is your problem?”
After going through the system to the best of her abilities, being completely stumped by all but one of Jared’s questions, she burst out, “Am I screwed?”
A soft chuckle came through the phone. “No, but I’m afraid I cannot help you with how to disable the system from further intrusions. Might I suggest a hard reset?”
“What’s that?” Jackie replied impatiently.
“Turn everything off and unplug all of your connections. You won’t have access to your system but neither will the intruder.”
Unplug it all. Of course! Had she completely lost her sense?
“Thank you, Jared.”
Jackie threw the receiver back into its cradle, powered down Marilyn’s computer, and pulled the cord out of the surge protector. The office being so small, it took no time to disconnect any device that might be connected to the Internet. She also unplugged the lines to the box with the blinking lights. Was that the router?
“I love nontechie solutions,” she said aloud, hands on her hips, with a smile of satisfaction.
Back at her desk, she took inventory of the mess of papers and file folders. She needed to find that data, but how with every computer powered down? If she got into the system, she had no idea how to find the files.
Dusting off some of the small cases she’d taken would be a good distraction, not to mention a revenue generator. Plus, the motion was due. She’d do the stuff not requiring a computer first, then haul the remainder home where she could access the Internet without using the office’s system.
Time slowed. Jackie forced herself to slog through cases in order to prepare the motion in an employment dispute involving the firing of a fat dancer from a gentlemen’s club. The woman actually claimed cellulite was a disability. A gentlemen’s club wasn’t exactly a prime client, but they paid on time, and the owner was Marilyn’s cousin.
Marilyn.
Jackie put down her highlighter, leaned back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands. “What have I done?”
She couldn’t believe that Marilyn would betray her, but how else to explain the cyberintrusion? No one else knew about the evidence, except whoever had sent her that tip with the roses. Brandon? No, Brandon wouldn’t have betrayed her. There was no way he could have faked the emotions from last night unless he was an Academy Award-winning actor.
The sun’s rays cut through her window blinds and reflected off the glass protecting her diplomas. White spots danced before her eyes. She spun in her chair to take in the sunset, a rosy orange palette spread across her window. The blinds were broken in a permanently open position and three-quarters raised. There would be no relief from the glare for another half an hour. Might as well pack it up and head home.
On the way home, the lounge at the W Hotel called her name. Why the hell not? It’d been months since she’d seen the bartender, Harry. While she had gin at home and an excellent assortment of olives too, nothing beat someone else making the perfect martini. She veered left and headed toward the water to the hotel. A drink at the W had been a weekly ritual for several years, until times got lean.
Opening the chrome-and-smoked-glass door was like coming home, though. Sleek white-and-black leather club chairs sat in empty groups around chrome-and-glass tables. Red Lucite swivel chairs stood at attention at the bar.
Although the bar’s decor was ultramodern, Harry tended bar in the old-school fashion. Wearing his typical white tuxedo jacket, his once-black hair now dusted heavily with gray, Harry waited for the night’s first customer.
“Well, look what the cat drug in! Miss Jackie North, missing-in-action attorney-at-law, where have you been, little lady?”
“I’ve missed you too,” said Jackie, taking a seat at the middle of the bar. “Hope you’ll excuse the casual attire, but it’s been a long day, and I really could use a drink.”
“You came to the right place. Not like those other places you’ve been frequenting.” He wagged a finger at her.
Jackie inwardly cringed. “What places?” She knew the answer. She’d recently turned to the lower-end hotel lounges, like the Ramada and Holiday Inn. She’d even stooped so low once as to crash the manager’s reception at the Drury Inn after a particularly bad day in court.
“I have my sources, who shall remain confidential, but I know what you’ve been up to. My only question is why? You, a hotshot trial lawyer, slinking around the Ramada. What were they mixing for you, Jack and Coke?” Although his voice was smug, his smile was embracing and his weathered, old hands warm as he held Jackie’s.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, “I’m broke.”
“Now there,” he cooed in his Southern drawl. “Don’t you worry, honey. This one’s on old Harry.”
Years of practice told him exactly how much to pour for any drink a patron could imagine. He poured the gin into a silver shaker filled with ice, added a few drops of dry vermouth, and shook.
The frost on the outside of the shaker was white and hard, as cold as only a pro like Harry could take. He strained the icy white concoction into a chilled martini glass. Topped with a cucumber spear and green olive, the drink was heavenly. With grace, he set it on a white napkin in front of Jackie.
“Cheers.” She lifted her glass to Harry and took a sip. “Ah, now that’s a martini. You are the mix master, Harry. I’ll give up my movie rentals and music downloads for one of these every week.”
The drink melted her troubles away with each sip. By the time she finished and started her second, she’d updated Harry on every piece of courthouse gossip she knew, except her own, of course.
“And what about you, young lady? When is Prince Charming going to sweep you off your feet? You know I’d take charge of that duty myself, but my little lady would cut my balls off and feed ’em to the cat.”
Jackie sprayed a stream of gin across the bar and choked through a laugh. “And you’d deserve
it. That woman is a saint. How long have you been married, by the way?”
“Fifty-two years this past July. Fifty-two beautiful years with the lady of my dreams. But, enough of me, what about you? Any prospects on the horizon? I bet you run into some good-looking and rich young men in your line of work, eh?”
Heat flooded from her neck to the top of her head like a thermometer’s mercury rising in a roasting pig.
“So there is someone, isn’t there?” Harry slapped his leg with his bar cloth. “Who’s the lucky man?”
“Oh boy, is this ever a long story. I better hit the ladies’ room first, or I’ll never make it through.”
Jackie sidled off the bar stool and made a beeline for the restroom. A janitor’s cart blocked her way.
“Oh shit,” she said. She turned and headed toward the lobby bathroom.
Her flats were quiet on the black granite floor, which sparkled like a night sky full of stars. She smiled. An inky sky full of twinkling stars canopied both that first night with Brandon and last night. She took a right toward the elevators.
A tall, statuesque platinum blonde with a flirtatious smile on her ruby-red lips whispered in a man’s ear.
Jackie froze.
Her breathing stopped.
Her heart ripped in two.
“Brandon?” she said, barely audible.
Brandon turned, his hand still on the woman’s arm. “Jackie? What are you doing here?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jackie ran as fast as she could out of the lobby onto the street. Her lungs constricted, soaking up the humidity like a sponge. The hot pavement burned her feet through the skimpy ballet flats. Her heart thrummed. Her mind whirled.
With what felt like lead-filled legs, she struggled to move through the gelatinous air. She concentrated on picking her foot up to take the next step and the next.
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