“It’s my pleasure,” is all he says.
When we arrive at the office, Dominic escorts me upstairs and sits at his usual perch in reception. The couch was not designed for sitting—just for looks. He can’t be comfortable.
I walk back to the office apartment and check on Hunter. He’s up and dressed smartly in a gray wool suit with a pressed white shirt and light blue tie. He’s eating cereal. “Good morning.” I take the seat adjacent to him. “How was your weekend?”
He shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”
I nod. “Today is very perfunctory. It doesn’t mean much, but you need to be prepared. The prosecution is going to say some outlandish things. Any witnesses are under oath, but they can point out that Jenn had your DNA under her nails and therefore, the scratch on your face must have come from her.” I pause, watching how he’s taking all this. “But you were lovers and you lived together,” I continue. “Damien’s magic during trial will show that while she had DNA under her nails, it came from being in love, and they have no proof that the scratch came from her.”
Hunter sighs. “Do I have to be there?”
I nod. “Damien plans on pushing them to share all their evidence now so we know where they’re going, and we can shore up any weak points in our defense. Also, you should know that the judge will most likely hold you over for trial.”
He looks down, and tears pool in his eyes.
“Hunter, this is going to be okay. We’re going to get you through this. I promise.”
“My parents wanted to come out for this,” he says, his voice flat.
“We’ll fly them out for the trial. It will probably be in March.”
“Thank you.”
I look at the clock in the kitchen. “I have a few things to get done. Let’s plan on leaving about nine thirty.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I return to the office area and check in with Maureen about what’s going on with the blackmail and Erin’s employees at The Dungeon.
“I’m close,” she says. “I’m checking each employee’s bank individually, as reported on their taxes. If I can determine who sent the money, the authorities won’t have to negotiate to get that information out of them, and they’ll have no chance at a lighter sentence.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean you’ve hacked the IRS.” All I need is someone else to come knocking.
“There’s that guy I met. He was kind enough to give me the information.”
She’s not looking at me, so she’s probably not being truthful, but I’m going to take her at her word. “I just hope there aren’t any digital footprints left behind.”
“Never,” Maureen yells after me.
I spend the next hour talking to Walker about where he is with Marci. I need to meet them this afternoon when they return on a flight from Whistler. It seems they got engaged over the weekend, so things will be shifting into high gear. I know Walker must be thrilled, and he leaves me with a few tasks to get started on.
I pick up the phone to one of my occasional contractors. I get her voice mail. “Veronica? It’s me, Fiona. I have a client planning a wedding, and I’m going to need some help. They’re hoping for a Valentine’s Day ceremony. Call me back. It’ll probably be a thousand guests and have media interest, so it’s got to be very quiet.”
I know Marci comes from a devout Episcopalian family. A quick call to a friend at Grace Cathedral lands me on the jackpot. She tells me she can make Valentine’s Day happen, but they could also do New Year’s Eve.
I text Walker to report back.
Me: I can get Grace Cathedral for New Year’s Eve. It could be quite the elegant affair. Interested?
Walker: Definitely. Marci’s a little less excited, but I think we can talk her into it. Getting her mom involved will help.
Me: I’ll get it booked. See you this afternoon.
I run through a few more emails before my alarm sounds, telling me it’s time to get Hunter and head to the courthouse.
I find him in the same place I left him. “Hey. Are you ready?”
He stands. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Dominic joins us for our ride.
“What are the chances they’ll revoke my bail today?” Hunter asks.
I look at him, puzzled. “Where would you get that idea?”
“It can happen right?”
“Yes, but you’ll be at the hearing, you have no priors, and you’ve been with Trevor almost nonstop since the accident.”
“But I wasn’t here when they came looking for me,” he says.
I shake my head. “They came unannounced. You aren’t under house arrest. You’ll be fine.”
We arrive in court, and as usual, Judge Abel is running more than on time. We all stand as he enters, and Aubrey Simmons introduces herself to the court as representing the City and State. Damien introduces himself and Hunter.
Aubrey begins her opening statement. She’s still going twenty minutes later, and Damien is voraciously taking notes.
“I’m your jury,” Judge Abel interrupts. “Are you just going to talk, or are you going to show me some evidence so I remand this over for trial?”
“Oh, sorry.” Aubrey shuffles through at least another fifty pages of notes until she gets to her evidence.
She lays out her version of the events—Hunter and Jenn had dinner at Ashbury Central, they ordered the hallucinogenic mushrooms as an appetizer, they took a rideshare home, and they got into an argument over a conflict at their company. Hunter forced Jenn over the railing at gunpoint.
Judge Abel turns to Damien. “Do you have evidence to refute any of this?”
“There’s no proof of an argument,” he says. “They got along well at work and at home.”
“Says you. What about employees, neighbors?”
Damien shakes his head.
The judge turns to the prosecutor. “And where is your proof?” he demands.
“I, uh…uh…I will have that to prove at trial,” Aubrey stammers. “I do have a signed affidavit of Mr. Anderson buying a gun.”
Hunter is ready to stand and protest, but both Damien and I put our hands on his arms.
Damien stands. “Your honor, may I ask the court to reconvene in ten days? I think we can gather the information needed to move forward before the holiday.”
Judge Abel peers at Damien over his wire-framed reading glasses. “We can do that.”
I’m shocked that Damien would push things that close to when he’s supposed to leave to get married. He must be confident. He turns and gives me a look, and I don’t say anything. Judge Abel sets the date in his calendar for December twenty-third.
We walk out to our waiting car, and Damien gets in with us. I ask Dominic to take him to his office.
“She doesn’t have anything,” Damien begins. “Jim’s team should have the Zoloft tablet results later this week, but the lab we sent them to has already indicated they were tampered with. They also found a video from across the street from Jenn’s apartment, and they’re combing through it.”
“Why didn’t I know about the video?”
He shrugs. “I think Bash was supposed to tell you.”
“I’ll check with him this afternoon.”
“I think we’ll be able to get this dismissed with prejudice before Christmas,” Damien says. “Not only can we save your holiday, we can save the public offering.”
“That’s huge,” Hunter says. “I have to save the public offering for Jenn. She put her whole self into making that happen.”
As he’s getting out of the car, Damien turns to Hunter. “Let’s meet tomorrow morning and huddle up. We have a lot to get done.”
“I may have a breakfast meeting,” I tell them. “Can we meet at ten?”
“That works.” Damien waves as he walks up to the building.
Dominic starts the journey back to my office, which would probably be faster on foot with all the one-way streets.
“Sounds like we should see if your parents want to come out sooner than
we thought,” I tell Hunter.
His leg is bouncing up and down. “This is amazing. I think my credit card can manage it.”
“How about we have Shannon book it, and I can bill you for it?”
He nods. “That would be great, thank you.”
Chapter 22
Bash
When I walk into the office on Monday morning, everyone is raving about the holiday party. I’m quick to point out that Stella and her team did all the work, but our team works hard and deserves a party. I’m so glad they had a good time. Gage and I want to do another one this summer after Jim returns if we can fit it into the schedule.
After collecting a cup of coffee, I visit Jim’s office. “Hey.”
“Hey. Great party Friday night.”
“Definitely. Fiona was talking about stealing Stella away to work for her.”
Jim looks up. “I don’t think so. I’ve got a plan.”
“Lay it on me.”
Jim walks me through his comprehensive plan to ensure Stella has every reason to stay with us—from a diaper service to a night nanny.
“I like it,” I tell him.
“Great. I’ll talk to her when she gets back, and I swear, if she comes in today, I’m turning her around and sending her home.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
“Agreed. Now I’m switching gears. How is Fiona?”
“She’s doing okay.” It’s time to put my cards on the table. “I care for her, but she seems to think if we get to know each other too well, I’m going to run away. Do you know what she’s worried about?”
Jim steeples his fingers. “She needs to tell you, but if it’s what I think she’s referring to, it would be something to consider. But it isn’t a deal-breaker, I wouldn’t think. Not for you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I can tell you she was remarkably close to her father and was devastated when he was arrested. She had no idea he wasn’t perfect. She and her mom were financially okay—the Catholic church took care of them, as did the IRA—but all of her friends abandoned her. No one wanted the daughter of an illegal gunrunner playing with their little girl.”
“Jesus. That’s awful!”
“Then her mom got sick, and that about killed Fiona. I didn’t know her at the time, but I don’t believe her mother was sick for very long before she was gone. They moved her father closer so they could visit, but she died shortly after he arrived at Atwater. Fiona once told me that while the official diagnosis was cancer, she believes her mom died from a broken heart.”
I nod, processing that for a moment. It’s a lot, but nothing that should have an impact on her and me. “It also sucks that any time she visits her dad, the FBI goes after her. Do you know why?”
“There are five generals in the IRA. Her dad was sent to the US to oversee all of the IRA’s American arm, which includes more than seventy-five units across the country, as I understand it. He has deep knowledge of the militant underground in the US, but he also has knowledge of the scene worldwide.”
“And they think he passes her information?”
“Or more likely that she was raised in the life and already knows things.”
“She sees that as something that would make me run, doesn’t she?”
“Talk to her.”
I take a deep breath. “I like her, Jim. I mean, she’s done something to me that’s changed everything I ever thought about commitment or life with a woman.”
Jim grins. “It’s shocking what the right woman does for you.”
I nod. But what happens if she doesn’t feel the same? I need to get to the bottom of this with her.
I look at my watch and I know Fiona is probably deep in the preliminary hearing. She can’t talk, but she might be able to text. I might as well try.
Me: How is it going? I’m thinking of you.
Fiona: Court was short today, but we have some work ahead of us. Are you and your team available to meet this afternoon?
Me: Absolutely. We can meet here.
Fiona: You were kind enough to invite us to your office last time. Why don’t you come to my office?
Me: What time?
Fiona: Let’s say 1, and I’ll order a late lunch. That work?
Me: See you then.
I approach Gage, and he’s typing so fast it’s a constant noise, rather than individual taps, and his look is severe. He’s so focused he doesn’t even realize I’m standing next to him.
I hate to interrupt, but I need him. “Hey.”
He pauses long enough to give me a just-a-minute finger.
I wait patiently.
“I got it!” he yells. “Thomas, it’s up to you.”
“I got you, boss.”
Now he turns to me. “Hey, sorry about that. We had an attempted data breach at a client, and each time we plugged a hole, they opened another one up. We finally got them locked out and shut the backdoor down.”
I nod. “Good. Fiona would like to meet at one at her office. Can you bring Miles, Thomas, and Christine?”
“No problem. We’ve been working on a few things, so we should be in good shape.”
***
I walk into Fiona’s office just before one. Gage went ahead earlier and was meeting with Maureen to go over a few issues. Damien is also joining us.
Once we’re sitting around the conference table and everyone has their food, Damien begins.
“This morning the prosecution rolled out their plan. Aubrey Simmons has only handled two other cases, both of which were pled out. This is her first time in front of a judge, and if this goes through, I have no doubt that a more seasoned prosecutor will be stepping in to take over. I’ve talked Judge Abel into speaking with us again next Friday before I leave for my wedding. The court will go into holiday recess after that, and it would be great to have this dismissed—off my plate and giving Hunter the peace of mind of he needs to work.”
Everyone is listening, eating, and nodding.
“So today, they presented their theory that Hunter forced Jenn off the balcony at gunpoint. And we know the police reported that they found the gun in these offices.”
Fiona shakes her head. “We’ve been unable to locate where they found it, even though the entire place is under surveillance. They blocked the camera a few times, but we still don’t believe they found it in his room or anywhere else here. And if they planted something, it’s impossible to see.”
Damien’s eyes widen. “You surveil the bedrooms?”
“We have cameras in there and in the bathrooms, which I switched on only when they arrived,” Fiona says.
He nods. “Okay, I’m good with defending that.”
“Where are you with your check on the Zoloft?” Fiona asks.
“I just got the email,” Christine announces. “I haven’t read it yet. Just a minute.” She looks through and reads the report. “The pills’ chemical makeup is C12H22O11.” She looks up at everyone. “They were sugar. Someone traded out Jenn’s pills. How will we explain that it wasn’t Hunter?”
“That’s not so hard,” Fiona says. “I spoke with Jennifer’s therapist, and Hunter didn’t know Jenn was suffering from depression or on any medications. The therapist is willing to testify, should we need it. I’ll get a signed affidavit for next week.”
“Good news. Where are we with the hair sample?” I ask.
“I still don’t have an answer for that.” Christina cruises through her inbox. “It’s the holidays, and things seem to be taking a little longer than normal.”
“I’m still looking for information on John Riley, too,” Damien says.
“His investor is Jon Yun,” I say. “Jim and I looked into him. He funds multiple Chinese organized-crime outfits. He’s crooked as the day is long. We guess he’s investing in legitimate businesses to launder money through them.”
Damien looks at me. “Is John dirty?”
“He’s done some hinky things—lied to shareholders, falsified earnings—all white
-collar crimes. I’m not aware of anything outside of that. Fiona, have you come across anything in your work?”
Fiona looks at Damien and then me. I immediately know she has something, but is she willing to tell?
She clears her throat. “He likes underage girls. We did a background check on him for a position with a client company and found he’d taken a few sex tours with underage participants—Thailand was a favorite.”
I shiver. I don’t get that at all. “How would that connect with Jenn?”
“Have we checked whether Eric Martin had any international travel in the last, say, eighteen months?” Damien asks.
I open and close my fists. I’d hit the motherfucker if he was here. The guy should be castrated. “Jeez. What a fucked-up holiday this is becoming.”
“On so many different levels,” Gage agrees. His fingers fly across his keyboard. “I have him on a flight to Thailand in March.”
“Now we know why Jenn may have had a problem with him. Hunter, did she ever talk about that with you?”
Hunter looks down. “I know she was passionate about sexual abuse because she’d been abused when she was in elementary school.”
“Gage, are you able to track where Eric went when he landed?”
“I started the search. I should have it shortly.”
“Do we have anything on the competitors?”
“We’ve looked at Claris Clouds and Rainmaker Storage. Neither has much of interest.”
Hunter’s head pops up. “We were looking at acquiring both of those with the money we’d make going public. They both offer something that would be an asset to us.”
“Do you know who else might be interested in them?” Damien asks.
Hunter shakes his head.
Shannon walks in and slips Hunter a piece of paper. He looks at her, eyes wide. “I can’t afford this.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She pats him on the shoulder and smiles.
“What about the footage from across the street from the apartment?” Fiona asks.
Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2) Page 16