“Oh, you could never bore me, Jessie.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t find the Rowland file. It doesn’t look like any of Kelly’s case files are here. All I’m finding are bills, invoices, that sort of thing. Can you help me please?”
“Maybe we should ask the hot girl.”
Before Jessie could respond, Snyder was out the door and back to the suite’s lobby. Jessie waited, her frustration mounting as the sound of his voice drifted back to her through the doorway. What was I thinking, going to Noah Snyder? After what felt like an eternity, he returned with Cheyenne, Snyder smiling and the assistant looking like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. Jessie had to force her jaw to relax.
“Let me take a look,” Cheyenne said. She looked inside the filing cabinet drawer Jessie had opened. Her brow furrowed as she flipped past folders of what looked like bank statements. Quickly, she checked the other drawers in the filing cabinet and then the drawers in Kelly’s desk. “I don’t understand. This is so weird.”
“What’s weird?” Jessie said.
“Kelly’s client files. They’re gone.”
Jessie felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. “You know that for sure?”
“I know where she kept her client files. The Rowlands’ file should be in this drawer.” She tapped the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet with her shoe. “It’s gone, along with the other ones.”
Jessie and Snyder exchanged a glance. “What about digital files?” Snyder said. Everyone turned toward the computer on the desk. Cheyenne nodded, went to the computer, and turned it on. Jessie and Snyder waited as she logged in. “Crap. The digital files are gone, too. Like somebody deleted them.”
“Did Kelly keep backups?” Jessie said.
Cheyenne shook her head doubtfully. “Once in a while she took copies home with her to work on at her apartment. You might find something there. But she didn’t have any official backups or anything like that.”
Snyder spread his arms. “So, basically, all the work she supposedly did on the case is lost. Whoever takes over the case for the Rowlands—a person who will now most definitely not be me—is in for a whole lot of legal and factual research, drafting, and investment in experts. Sucks for them.”
“You can’t let this case die,” Jessie said. “Please, Noah.”
He shook his head. “I may be a cool guy, but unlike you, I’m not a good Samaritan.” He walked out of the office. Without turning, he called over his shoulder, “Call me if you want that job, Cheyenne.”
The assistant looked at Jessie. “What are you going to do?”
Jessie wasn’t sure.
15
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of Kelly Lee’s apartment building. Jessie paid the driver and climbed out. Standing on the sidewalk, she looked up at the building. The ten-story building was plain and brown, like a dozen other ones in the Center City area. Ranks of identical windows faced the street.
She entered a generic-looking lobby. There was an elevator bank, an alcove with the tenants’ mailboxes, and a door marked Office. The door was open, and when she leaned inside, she saw a pudgy Indian man sitting at a desk.
“Hi. Are you the building manager?”
He rose from his chair and extended a hand. “Are you looking for an apartment? My name is Nishith.”
“Actually, I’m hoping you can let me into someone else’s apartment.”
Nishith’s face creased with concern. Jessie hesitated for a second, thinking of Warren’s commandment, but then showed the man her DA’s Office ID. The fact that all of Kelly’s client files were missing was proof that the accident was not what it appeared, right? Warren would surely understand that.
“This is about the woman in 7D?” Nishith said. “Ms. Lee, yes?”
Jessie nodded. “Did you know her?”
“Only to say hi in the elevator. She seemed like a nice woman. Very busy.”
“If you could let me inside her apartment, that would be very helpful.”
“Yes.” He unlocked a drawer in his file cabinet, flipped through some files, and retrieved a manila folder. His hand disappeared into the folder and came out holding a key. “Come with me.”
He led her to the elevator bank. Together they rode to the seventh floor. In the hallway, Jessie spotted Kelly Lee’s door. 7D.
“That’s strange,” the building manager said.
“What?”
“Lights are on.” He gestured at the door and Jessie saw what he’d noticed—a strip of light between the door and the floor. Someone had turned the lights on in Kelly’s apartment.
“Have you given anyone else access?”
“No.”
“Could the police be in there?”
“I doubt it. They said they had everything they need.”
“Did Kelly give anyone else a key?”
“Not that I know of.”
Jessie felt a tremor of fear. She reached for her phone, inwardly debating whether to call the police, but the building manager headed for the door before she could call anyone. “Nishith, hold on.”
He stuck his key in the lock and turned. Cursing under her breath, Jessie hurried to join him as he opened the door.
Inside the apartment, two men turned to look at them. Jessie’s body went cold. The men were dressed in black and wore gloves. One of them stood in front of a fancy wooden cabinet. The cabinet was open and one of his hands was inside it. The other man was looking at a bookshelf.
The men looked at each other. Some silent communication passed between them.
“Don’t move,” Jessie said. “I’m calling the police.”
She fumbled with her phone, tapping 911 with a shaking finger and wishing she’d done it earlier. She heard Nishith cry out, and when she looked up from her phone, she saw the men charging toward them. She let out a scream of her own and dropped her phone, raising her hands protectively in front of her. The men ran past her, through the door and into the hallway. She swung around and watched them disappear into a stairwell.
“I don’t understand.” Nishith stared at the stairwell door, still rattling in its frame. “Were they burglars?”
“Worse.”
She looked around her. Kelly’s apartment was spotless. Common burglars would have trashed the place looking for valuables. These men had been careful not to disturb anything.
If Jessie and Nishith hadn’t stumbled upon them, no one would ever know they’d been here.
Later, Kelly Lee’s apartment was filled with members of the police department. Emily Graham came with them.
“You have to agree it’s looking more and more like Douglas Shaw and his company are behind all of this,” Jessie said.
Graham picked up an expensive-looking vase from a shelf. “Behind all of what?”
“Come on, Emily.”
“Does it bother you at all that bringing frivolous lawsuits against good cops like me enabled your law school buddy to collect fine crystal?” Graham put down the vase.
“What bothers me is that a woman was murdered and the police refuse to investigate because of a personal grudge.”
Graham’s gaze swept the room, where police officers were checking out the apartment. “You keep saying that, but there’s no evidence.”
“No evidence? What about the two men I just caught searching her apartment?”
Graham shrugged. “It’s depressingly common for burglars to target the homes of the recently deceased.”
“This wasn’t a burglary.” Jessie felt rising frustration. “They didn’t steal anything.”
“Because you interrupted them in the act.”
“They were looking for something. Probably the same thing I came here to look for. Kelly’s files.”
“Why?”
“To bury the Rowlands’ case. To protect Douglas Shaw and his company.” Jessie’s body vibrated with anger. There was something wrong here. She didn’t know if the police were simply blinded by their resentment of the
police misconduct suits, or whether something even worse explained their inaction, but something was very wrong. “Maybe Douglas Shaw and Boffo bribed someone in the department.”
“No way,” Graham said. But Jessie thought she saw a flicker of doubt in her friend’s eyes.
“How else do you explain the total lack of interest in Kelly’s death?”
“I already explained it. There’s no evidence that her death was anything other than a car accident.”
“Excuse me.” One of the cops had approached them. “We’re done here,” he said to Graham.
“Did you find anything?” Graham said.
“Lifted a few prints, but if the men were wearing gloves, I doubt they’ll tell us anything.”
“How can you be done?” Jessie stared at the man. “You’ve only been here ten minutes.”
He shrugged. The other police were already leaving.
Jessie shook her head and turned to Graham. “I need to talk to Douglas Shaw.”
“No, you don’t.”
“This isn’t a game to me, Emily. He murdered a woman. I’m going to prove it.”
“I need to get back to the Roundhouse,” Graham said. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ll give you a ride to your office.”
“First I need to look for Kelly’s files.”
“Jessie, this is a crime scene.”
“No one else seems to think so.”
The women faced each other. Jessie thought Graham might push the issue, but she didn’t. She turned toward the door. “I guess I’ll check in with you later, then.”
“Fine.”
Once Graham was gone, Jessie let out a sigh and looked around. The apartment was spacious, a two-bedroom apartment in which one of the bedrooms had been set up as a home office. All of the rooms were tastefully decorated, with an expensive touch as Graham had pointed out. Kelly had been doing well for herself. Among the artwork and sculptures, Jessie found a shelf of framed photographs—an elderly Asian man and woman, a family of four, also Asian, and a young man standing with a young woman. Jessie assume these people were Kelly’s relatives, although Kelly herself did not appear in any of the pictures.
The home office seemed like the logical place to start her search for the Rowlands’ file. She took a second to marvel at the clean efficiency of the space. Jessie didn’t have a home office, just a small desk in her bedroom. She felt a pang of envy, but it passed quickly. Jessie loved being an assistant DA. She wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Then you better hope Warren doesn’t find out what you’re doing.
The sound of a man clearing his throat behind her made her jump. She twisted around. As if summoned by her thoughts, Warren Williams stood in the doorway of Kelly’s home office.
He wore a rumpled suit and looked even more beleaguered than usual. The dark circles under his eyes, and his waxy skin, suggested his new morning routine wasn’t treating him well. “You want to tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?”
Jessie straightened up. “Did you know the client files in Kelly’s law office are missing?” Warren quirked an eyebrow, but remained quiet. “I came here to see if she had any files in her home. When I got here, there were two men—”
“I heard.”
“They were looking for files, too. I’m sure of it. I’m just hoping they fled before they could find everything.”
“The police believe the men were burglars.”
“They weren’t, Warren. They were looking for something. And they were careful not to make a mess. This was Douglas Shaw and Boffo Products Corporation, the defendants in Kelly’s big lawsuit. You’ve got to see that.”
Warren rubbed his tired-looking face. “No, actually. What I see is insubordination. I told you to stay away from this case. AID closed its investigation. The police department doesn’t want you nosing around here. I already received one angry phone call and I don’t plan to receive more. You are going to stop right now.”
“I can’t do that,” Jessie said.
Warren’s face darkened. “Why not?”
“Because I need her help,” a voice said.
Warren spun around and Jessie stared past him. Noah Snyder strolled casually into Kelly’s home office, a friendly smile on his face. “Hello, Warren. How are you doing? Finally get that hemorrhoid problem under control?”
Warren’s face darkened another shade, and Jessie could see the internal struggle behind his eyes. “What are you doing here, Noah?” Warren said.
Jessie was as curious as Warren to know the answer. Snyder walked past Warren and stood at Jessie’s side. He put a hand around her waist, a gesture that was either a show of solidarity, sexual harassment, or a little bit of both. Jessie tried not to cringe.
“What am I doing here?” Snyder said. “I’m working on the biggest case of my career. Major class-action lawsuit, in case you haven’t heard. I’m going to bankrupt those toy-making motherfuckers. Just as soon as Jessie gives me Kelly Lee’s working file. Right, Jess?”
“Right,” Jessie said, following his lead. “That’s why we’re both here. I’m helping Noah find the file so he can pick up the Rowlands’ case. Professional courtesy. Nothing more.”
“Okay with you, boss man?” Snyder said.
Warren rubbed his face again, seeming to consider. “Fine. Spend an hour—no more than that—and see if you can find the file. But that’s it, Jessie. I mean it. There are only so many excuses I can make to my friends in the police department before they decide they’re not my friends anymore. Do you understand?”
“Completely. Thank you.”
“I’m going back to the office,” Warren said. “Noah, nice seeing you again. And relatively sober, too. A pleasant surprise for everyone.”
Jessie waited until Warren had left before turning her attention to Snyder. “You said you wanted nothing to do with this case. You left Kelly Lee’s office without even saying goodbye. Did you grow a conscience?”
The silver-haired lawyer looked taken aback. “Conscience? Hell no. I have an associate who monitors the police band for me. She picked up on the home invasion here. I figured you might need me. When I got here and saw fat-ass reading you your rights, I decided to help you out.”
Jessie couldn’t help smiling. “I have news for you, Noah. That’s called a conscience.”
Snyder shook his head. “It’s called a favor. I did you one, and now you owe me one. In fact, since the favor I did you was so gargantuan—I mean, I basically saved your job—I think you owe me a few favors in return. For starters, you’re going to help me with this Rowland case.”
“If Kelly Lee’s file is here in the apartment, we’ll find it.”
Snyder smirked. “We both know the chances of finding that file are slim to none. I told you, I’m not putting in the work to handle this case from the ground up. If you can’t find the file, then you’ll need to do the work for me. Research the law, write the briefs, and prepare my talking points so I can get Judge Dax to certify the class or at least let us proceed alone on the claim. That’s favor number one.”
What had begun as a feeling of relief turned to a sinking feeling in her gut. “Okay. Fine. Substitute yourself as counsel and I’ll do the heavy legal lifting for you. What’s favor number two?”
“I’m not sure yet. But don’t worry, Jess. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
16
Graham gripped the steering wheel of her unmarked Ford Police Interceptor and tried to force away thoughts of what could have happened to Jessie. She knew it wasn’t Jessie’s fault she’d walked in on two men who’d broken into Kelly Lee’s apartment, but she felt angry anyway. Jessie shouldn’t have been there. She shouldn’t be obsessing over Kelly Lee’s death at all. Those men could have attacked her instead of running. Or worse.
She reached her destination, a complex of squat, nondescript buildings in a corporate park outside the city. The headquarters of Boffo Products Corporation.
Jessie believed Kelly Lee had been murd
ered, and that Douglas Shaw and his company were behind it. Graham wasn’t convinced, but she had to admit to her own lack of objectivity. How could any cop be objective about a lawyer who’d brought a police misconduct claim against her? Plus, when she’d dropped in on Ross Reid at the gym to ask the detective about the accident investigation, he’d seemed evasive—even a little hostile. She had enough doubt in her own mind to create an unavoidable question.
That question was, What if Jessie’s right?
It wouldn't be the first time. The woman made an irritating habit of it. Graham couldn't help but smile.
Her smile dropped when a familiar vehicle drove into the parking lot. The driver parked, opened the door, and got out. It was Mark Leary. Graham scrambled out of her own car as the man marched toward the building’s entrance.
“Leary!”
He spun around and his eyes widened. “Emily?”
“What are you doing here?” she said.
“Getting to the bottom of this mess before Jessie gets herself fired,” he said. “Or worse.”
“She told you about what happened today at Lee’s apartment?”
“I have my sources.”
“So she didn’t tell you?” Graham wasn’t surprised. She knew Jessie chafed at Leary’s sometimes over-protective attitude toward her. “Maybe that’s something you should think about.”
“I’m not about to take relationship advice from you.” She felt the sting of his words. He must have seen her reaction in her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, Emily. I’m just upset.”
“Whatever.”
“Emily—”
“It’s not worth talking about. What’s your plan? You’re just going to march in there and demand to speak to the CEO of the company?”
“Yeah.” A look of uncertainty flashed across his face. “Usually works.”
“With a badge.”
“I’m a detective with the District’s Attorney’s Office.” He stood up a little straighter.
“And I’m an actual homicide detective. I think we’re more likely to get past his flunkies using my creds.”
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