“Hey,” he said.
She dropped her keys on the counter in the kitchenette. She considered joining him on the couch, but wasn’t ready to be peppered with questions about her night. “I’m going to sleep,” she said.
“It’s only 10.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Everything went okay tonight? With Briscoe?”
She could hear in his cautious tone his attempt to approach the subject tactfully, and that only made her more reluctant to talk. A weary sigh escaped before she could suppress it. She saw him wince.
Just be honest with him. She walked to the couch and sat down. He took her hand. His touch felt wonderful, as always, warm and strong. Just tell him you need him to give you some space. She tried to think of the best way to phrase that.
Leary spoke before she could. He said, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting overprotective of you. It must feel like … I don’t know. Like I’m treating you like you can’t take care of yourself. And we both know you can.”
He squeezed her hand. She squeezed him back. “Leary….”
“I just can’t bear the thought of losing you,” he said. “Or maybe Emily’s right and I just want to be a hero.”
“Sometimes I like you to be the hero.”
“Yeah, too bad I obviously can’t tell when that is.”
“I guess I'm not that great at communicating that.”
“You are mysterious.”
She kissed him. She felt his body straighten with surprise. Then he put a hand on her head, threading his fingers through her hair, and kissed her back.
“Maybe if we had a secret phrase,” he said, his lips brushing hers.
“Like tomato?”
“Sure, why not? Nothing screams Help me! like a fresh, ripe tomato.”
She laughed. “Well, I don't need any tomatoes right now, okay? But I'll let you know if I do.” They kissed again.
Leary smiled. “Seems like a long time since we kissed like that.”
“Too long.”
He leaned back against the couch cushions. “I need to tell you something. I got a call from Warren today. Judge Dax complained to him about your involvement in the Rowland case. She threatened to make trouble for the DA’s Office.”
Jessie cringed.
“You’re surprised?”
“I know I didn’t exactly dazzle her with my charm, but I didn’t think she would come after me.”
“Well, she did. Warren’s not about to roll over, though. He’s going to push back, and I’m going to help him.”
“How?”
“Leverage. Everyone has weak points, even judges. We’ll find hers and use it to force her to back off.”
Jessie sighed. She didn’t like the idea—what Leary was describing sounded too close to blackmail—but she didn’t have any better suggestions. And she believed she was in the right. She’d done nothing except try to ensure that Kelly’s death did not compromise the Rowlands’ legal case.
“Don’t feel bad about it,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “She threatened to use her political clout to harm you, Warren, and the DA’s Office. She’s bad.”
“Sounds that way.” She paused, then said, “I need your help with something else.”
“Anything.”
“Vicki Briscoe only agreed to help me because I promised her I would help her get her medical license reinstated. She said the claim Kelly brought against her was bogus, but that the insurance company settled instead of fighting it. I was hoping you could—”
“Do some detective work?” He grinned. “That’s what I do best.”
“I think there’s something you do even better.”
Jessie leaned toward him again, moving in for another kiss. His grin widened.
31
When Jessie’s alarm went off the next morning, the first thing she did was check her phone for a new email. Sure enough, the one she was hoping for was there, sent a few hours after she fell asleep the night before—an email from Professor Hazel Little, with a Penn Law email address, and several attachments.
Jessie swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the desk in the corner of the bedroom. The attachments were PDFs, and she wanted to open them on a screen large enough to make them readable. She didn’t intend to study the documents in depth right now—she could tell from the file names that they were judicial decisions and legal articles, the kind of reading material she could tackle better at her desk at the DA’s Office, with a cup of coffee in her hand—but she couldn’t resist a quick preview.
A grunt sounded from the bed. Leary rolled over, tucking the covers around him. Jessie tried to minimize the noise as she started her laptop, typed in her password, and brought up the email.
Hi Jessica. Wonderful to meet you. I hope you find these helpful. Best of luck, Hazel Little.
Jessie typed a quick thank-you note and sent it back to the professor. Then she opened the first attachment, a recent decision involving a class certification on appeal. It appeared to include a thorough legal analysis, with plenty of case law cited.
She skimmed at first, then slowed down when she realized the facts of the case were similar to those of the Rowland matter. Her finger touched the scroll wheel of her mouse and she learned forward, reading.
The sound of a throat clearing brought her back to the moment. She looked up from the screen. Leary stood beside her, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. A toothbrush stuck out of his mouth.
Jessie’s gaze went to the clock at the corner of the computer screen. Since she’d gotten out of bed, an hour had passed.
Leary pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. “Good morning.”
“Hey,” she said. She was suddenly conscious that she was still in her pajamas and had not even brushed her teeth. “I lost track of time. These documents Kelly’s old professor sent over … they’re going to be a huge help.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
She looked up, smiled at him. “You always know just what to say.”
He left the bedroom. A moment later, she heard the sound of the coffeemaker percolating in the kitchenette. The smell of coffee beans reached the bedroom and she took a deep breath, savoring it.
Returning her attention to the computer, she pulled up the second attachment. Like the first, it was a Pennsylvania case, reasonably recent, factually on-point, binding precedent. She almost couldn’t believe her good fortune. These documents would make her work for Snyder much easier. By leading Jessie to Professor Hazel Little, Vicki Briscoe had really come through.
What about my side of the bargain?
Leary returned to the bedroom with a mug of coffee in each hand. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, cradling the hot cup in her hands. She breathed in the steam and then took a long sip.
“Perfect.”
“I don’t know if I’m perfect.” He grinned down at her. “But I have my moments.”
“Ha ha. I meant the coffee, but you’re not bad either.”
He drank from his own mug. “So you think you can win this case?”
“It’s just a motion at this stage. Two motions, actually. And it’s Noah Snyder who needs to win them, not me. But I think I can give him the legal ammunition he needs to do it.”
“Good.”
“You’re going to look into Vicki Briscoe’s malpractice case today, right?”
“You mind if I put on some clothes first?” He gestured at his mostly naked body.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be pushy. I just want Vicki Briscoe to continue helping me. She already led me to Professor Hazel Little. But I’m really hoping she’ll lead me to Kelly’s killer.”
Leary’s body seemed to become tense. “Let’s hope she leads you to the identity of the killer. Not sure I want you and the killer actually coming face-to-face. Not that I don’t have total confidence in you—”
She smiled around the rim of her coffee mug. “It’s okay, Leary. I know what you meant. And I agree. I’m
not looking for a showdown either.”
“Good.”
She rose from her chair. “I should take a shower. I’ll finish going through the files at the office.”
A buzzing noise drew both their attentions to Jessie’s phone, which she’d left on the desk beside her computer. She didn’t recognize the phone number of the incoming call, but Devon, Pennsylvania appeared on the screen. That was the town in which the Rowlands lived.
Jessie picked up. “Jessica Black.”
“This is Ken Rowland.” The man’s voice, raw and angry, made Jessie freeze. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“What’s wrong?” Jessie handed her coffee mug to Leary and stepped away from the desk.
“You said you were going to find us a new lawyer who would help us win our case. But this guy Snyder—”
Jessie closed her eyes, experiencing a feeling of dread only Snyder could instill. “Listen, I know he’s a little unconventional—crass, even rude sometimes—but underneath all that, Noah Snyder is an excellent lawyer. You have to trust me—”
“An excellent lawyer?” Ken Rowland barked out a laugh. “An excellent lawyer is supposed to have his clients’ best interests at heart, right? Not stab them in the back.”
The feeling of dread intensified. “Is it possible there was a … some kind of miscommunication? How do you feel that he stabbed you in the back?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Ken’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Maybe when he met with Douglas Shaw behind our backs and worked out a nice little deal to make our case go away in exchange for a payoff?”
“He discussed a possible settlement?” Jessie tried to keep her voice neutral. She knew the Rowlands had no interest in settling, and she thought she’d made that clear to Snyder, but it was still common practice. “I’m sure he only met with Shaw as a courtesy. He knows your position.”
“He showed up this morning with a ten page document!” Jessie heard the sound of rustling paper on the other end of the line. “Settlement and Release Agreement,” Ken Rowlands read. “It’s already signed by Shaw, and there are signature lines for Deanna and me. Snyder said the judge approved it, too. He told us to sign it!”
The dread turned to anger. Jessie felt her jaw tighten. “Did you?”
“Of course not! I threw the bastard out of our house!”
“Okay. Good. The contract isn’t valid without your signature.”
“No kidding. We want a new lawyer.”
“I don’t think you should switch lawyers.” Jessie glanced at Leary, who was watching her with a concerned expression. She touched his arm, rolled her eyes, and silently mouthed Snyder. He nodded with understanding and moved to the bathroom.
“Why not?”
Jessie didn’t want to admit that Snyder had been her last option after calling all of the other personal injury lawyers she knew. She also didn’t want to admit that she was personally doing the legal work. “Like I said, Noah is unconventional, but he’s good. I’ll talk to him and straighten this out. Do you trust me?”
Ken Rowland seemed to hesitate. Then he said, “Yes, we trust you.”
“Then please give me a chance to fix this.”
She ended the call and, still in her pajamas, called Noah Snyder. When he picked up, she heard noise on the line and assumed he’d answered in his car, probably heading away from the Rowlands’ house.
“They called you, huh?” Snyder said. “Fucking tattletales.”
The rage she’d bottled up finally let loose. “A settlement agreement, Noah? Really? What the hell were you thinking?”
She heard his calm, unconcerned laugh, a sound which only infuriated her more. “I was thinking my clients could obtain an excellent settlement, avoid a trial they’d probably lose—assuming the case even survives summary judgment and makes it to trial—and move on with their lives.”
“They don’t want to settle. You know that.”
“They’re idiots, Jessie. It’s my job to protect them from their own stupidity.”
“They’re not stupid. They’re angry and grieving. Can’t you understand that?”
“What I understand is that Judge Dax is going to deny the motion to certify a class—which leaves the Rowlands on their own—and then grant Boffo’s motion for summary judgment, which will throw what’s left of the case into the garbage can. Is that a result that’s going to help their anger and grief?”
“It doesn’t have to go that way. I’m working on the reply brief—like you asked me to—and I think I have some arguments that can help us prevail on both motions.”
“Oh yeah?” Instead of sounding relieved, Snyder sounded incredulous. Was the idea that they could win really so unfathomable to him?
“Yeah.” She threw the word back at him. “Unless you know something I don’t know—”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, cutting her off. “I know that Judge Dax just put a hearing on the calendar for 2 PM this afternoon to hear arguments on both motions.”
“She can’t do that.”
“She did do that. So you have what? A few hours to research and draft your reply brief, and prepare me to argue both motions? You’re good, but I doubt you’re that good.”
Jessie felt the air go out of her lungs.
“You there?” Snyder said. His voice softened. “Look, I’m sorry. I know this sucks. The legal world is a dirty place. Let’s talk to the Rowlands together. We can convince them that a settlement makes sense.”
“No. I’ll get the work done this morning,” Jessie said. “I can do it.”
“Jessie, be reasonable.”
“Just show up at court at 2 PM. I’ll do the rest.”
But how she was going to do that, she had no idea.
32
Leary found Noah Snyder in the back room of a cigar lounge in Northeast Philly. At 11:00 AM on a weekday, the lawyer had the space to himself, but he’d managed to fill the air with a smoky haze that made Leary’s eyes water. Making his way to the leather chair on which Snyder sat, puffing away, Leary hoped he wasn’t inhaling too many toxins.
If Snyder was surprised to see him, he hid it well. He blew out a stream of smoke, rested his cigar on the edge of an ashtray, and leaned back in the chair. The old leather creaked.
“How’d you find me here, Detective?”
“Your receptionist.”
Snyder smirked. “I don’t think so. Danielle knows better than that.”
“I told her it was an emergency.”
The silver-haired lawyer’s smirk only deepened. “She definitely knows better than that.”
“You’re right. She does. But when she opened her calendar to help me make an appointment, I peeked at her computer screen and saw your appointments for this morning.”
Snyder cursed under his breath. “I can’t talk. I have court in a few hours.”
“Yeah, I see you’re working really hard to prepare for the hearing.”
“Did Jessie send you here to bust my ass?”
“No. She can do that herself. I came here for legal advice.” Seeing Snyder perk up, he added, “Free legal advice.”
The lawyer scowled. “What do you want, Leary? Wait, let me guess. You proposed to Jessie and she wants you to sign a pre-nup. Smart girl.”
Snyder’s guess hit a little too close to home. Leary’s mind flashed on the engagement ring hiding in a drawer in their apartment. He forced away the thought. “I want to know more about medical malpractice.”
Snyder picked up his cigar and puffed thoughtfully. “If you’ve suffered from the incompetence of some quack, you’ve come to the right place. I have a team of lawyers specializing in—”
“This is just research. I’m working a case.”
“With Jessie?”
“Does that matter?”
Snyder pointed his cigar at Leary. “You’re even less fun than your girlfriend.”
Leary sighed. If Jessie could be patient with this clown, then so could he. “The case I’m working involves a doct
or—a surgeon—who was the subject of a medical malpractice claim. The complaint alleged lack of informed consent.”
Snyder nodded. “Sure. I’ve used that one plenty of times.”
“What does it mean?”
The lawyer laughed. “Before he can slice you up, a doctor is required to give you information—side effects, complications, anything that could affect your decision to move ahead with the treatment. We call it a duty to disclose. For example, let’s say a guy needs surgery on his balls. In his zeal to save his patient, the doc neglects to mention that this surgery can sometimes result in a limp dick. Guy does the surgery, and sure enough, finds that he can no longer get it up. Now he’s got a claim against the doctor—maybe for hundreds of thousands of dollars. The beauty of it is that the doctor doesn’t even have to screw up the procedure. He can perform the surgery flawlessly—more carefully, more diligently, and more safely than any doctor has ever performed it in the history of medicine—but if he didn’t warn the guy about that complication, he’s liable. First question I ask every potential med mal client—did the doctor warn you this could happen?”
Leary considered Snyder’s explanation. On the one hand, it sounded like a gotcha, and didn’t seem particularly fair to the doctor, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t want to be rolled into an operating room without knowing the risks. In some ways, the rule reminded him of the Miranda warnings—you have the right to remain silent—viewed by cops as a loophole, but, in the bigger picture, a necessary protection against abuse by the state.
“How would you prove the patient wasn’t warned? Isn’t that proving a negative?”
Snyder shrugged. “Sure, but this is civil practice, not criminal. I don’t need to prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt, just tell the client’s story.”
“What if the client lies?”
“What if?” Snyder laughed. “Happens all the time. That’s why doctor’s offices and hospitals make you sign forms.”
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