* * *
Freya was gone by the time Clare woke the following morning. Her side of the bed was still warm. After their conversation last night, you’d think she’d hang around a bit to say good morning, but she’d not even left a note. Clare felt bad she’d been so off-putting. She was overwhelmed, unable to entertain the idea of a relationship. She wondered how Freya was feeling but chose not to speculate about it. She had other business at hand. Today was the summary judgement motion and she was out of speed. She referred to it as speed because that sounded innocuous compared to meth, which brought to mind all kinds of terrible things. She called Evan.
“Hello,” he croaked, his voice phlegmy and muted.
“Evan, it’s Clare. I hope I didn’t wake you.” Like she cared.
“It’s seven in the morning. Of course, you woke me.”
“I’m sorry, but now that you’re up I wonder if I can get some speed from you. I ran out of what you and Henry gave me. I’ll pay.”
Evan coughed. “If you mean meth, I have a little. Not much. I should be getting more tomorrow.”
She wondered who he was getting supply from. “How about I buy you a coffee at Bean There?” She was cheery, as if they were old friends grabbing some time together.
“What time?”
“Can you make eight o’clock?”
“See you then.”
She made some coffee and sat at her kitchen table, taking her time eating breakfast and staring out the window. A thrum of fear seemed to have parked in her midsection, reminding her constantly she was a thin line away from being found out. She had to start considering her options. If Henry was arrested, she probably should go to the police with what she knew. She put her head in her hands at the thought of losing her life in Money Creek. It didn’t help that she was a little strung out. There were no drugs in her system, a state as rare as an early spring in central Illinois. She wouldn’t be able to think straight until she took something. She got dressed and walked to Bean There, her down coat zipped to the throat. She grabbed the last table open and waited for Evan. He sat down five minutes later.
“Let me get you a coffee,” Clare said.
He still looked sleepy. His shirt buttons were in the wrong holes. “I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s like the middle of the night for me.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” She went to the front and returned with two coffees and a wad of napkins. He took a couple of the napkins and through some sleight of hand passed them back to her with the drugs underneath. Clare crumpled the napkins and stuffed them in her suit jacket pocket.
“That was smooth,” she said.
“I’ve done this a time or two.” He slurped at his coffee and watched her. “That’s just a small amount. Call me if you need more.”
“I don’t need it at all. It’s a placeholder while I look for more Adderall. Do you think you’ll ever get some?”
“The murders took out two-thirds of the drug suppliers in the area, so my guess is it’s going to be a while before those kinds of connections are set up again. It’s up to Henry.”
“I heard. How is Henry doing? I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s wigging out over his partners being killed. I know he’s not sleeping because I can hear him pace around at night. I haven’t seen him eat in days, and he’s smoking a ton of weed.”
She didn’t tell Evan she had been at the house, too. The fewer who knew, the better. It didn’t sound like Henry had told him either. “I’m sure it was a shock for him. He just missed being killed himself.”
Evan pushed his chair back and picked up his coffee cup. “Okay. My work here is done. But there’s one more thing.”
Clare raised an eyebrow. “What would that be?”
He smiled and his face changed entirely. He was handsome and sexy and she could tell he knew it. “I want you to go out with me.”
She stifled a laugh. “Is that an invitation or are you stating a fact.”
“It’s an invitation. I’d like you to go out to dinner with me, say this weekend. What do you say?”
“I say no.” She didn’t want to put her drug connection in jeopardy, but she wasn’t dating Evan. It would feel like dating a younger brother. And then there was Freya. “I’m sorry, Evan. I don’t think of you that way.”
The smile had faded and she saw the disappointment in his face. “You could learn to think that way. You have to give me a chance to show you what a wonderful guy I am.”
“I’m sure someone your own age would love to go out with you.” Her voice was gentle but not patronizing. She appreciated how hard it was to get turned down.
“Girls my own age aren’t the problem,” he said. “But a sophisticated woman like you is a prize. Please change your mind.”
“I can’t do that. It will never be what you’re looking for.”
He stood and pushed his chair back under the table. “You’re making a mistake, you know.” He seemed upset.
“I’m sorry, Evan. Thanks for bringing this to me this morning. I owe you for it.”
She left for the office. Her primary job for the day was to support Elizabeth during her oral argument for the summary judgement, which was scheduled for one o’clock. Most of her nerves were focused on that. A little meth would focus her attention on the task at hand.
Elizabeth was parking her car when Clare came around the corner carrying her coffee. She waited as she gathered her briefcase and bag and got out of the car. She looked completely at ease and had a broad smile on her face. If Clare had a huge motion to argue that day she’d be whimpering. They walked into the office together. Apparently, Elizabeth had not heard that her son owned the house where the murders occurred and had been questioned by the police. Surely that would throw even the composed Elizabeth off her stride a bit.
“Why don’t you come by my office in a little while and we’ll go over the outline one more time?” Elizabeth said. “Your help has been invaluable, Clare. You could argue the motion yourself.”
A shudder raced through her body at the thought. “I enjoyed working on the brief.”
Elizabeth paused at the entrance to Clare’s office. “It’s excellent work. I’m really pleased.” She put her hand on Clare’s shoulder. “See you in a bit.”
She flushed with pleasure as she watched Elizabeth stride down the hallway. A crack was about to appear in Elizabeth’s world, but it was only a crack. Clare envied the solidness of her life—the pleasure of being a great lawyer able to practice interesting law, the steady marriage, beautiful home, multiple friends, and the high regard of everyone in town. In comparison, the crack in Clare’s life was like the San Andreas Fault. An earthquake was likely to ensue.
She tossed her briefcase onto her desk, hung her coat up behind the door, and left her office for the bathroom. The door was locked. The small packet of meth was burning a hole in her pocket. Now that it was there, she was anxious to take some of it. She went to the coffee station to pour a cup, hoping the bathroom would be free by the time she got back. As she stepped back into the hall she saw Henry walking toward her. She blocked his way.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. She pulled him into her office and shut the door.
Henry looked unlike his usual urbane self. His hair was uncombed, he wore a Money Creek College T-shirt and sweatpants under his open jacket, as if he’d rolled out of bed and come straight here. His eyes looked tired. “I’ve got to tell my folks about the house. They’re sure to find out anyway, and I want to get in front of it.”
“You can’t do that. Not today.”
“Why not? Putting it off doesn’t do any good.”
“Your mom is arguing a major motion today. You’ll ruin it for her.” Henry probably didn’t think of his parents’ daily lives, their work, their need to make a living. He thought of them only in relation to himself and how they could serve him. Like a child.
“I don’t see why that makes a difference. She must have important things going on every day
.”
“You’re wrong. This is a very big deal. If she thinks you’re in trouble she won’t be able to concentrate. You can’t do this now.”
This was all true, but she also wanted to push back the inevitable as long as possible. Once he told his mother he owned the house, it was entirely possible he’d tell her the whole thing, including Clare’s presence at the house when the murders happened. She could practically hear the fissure crack beneath her.
“Okay. What time will the court appearance be over?”
“It could go all afternoon. I’d forget it today.”
“No way. I could get picked up again and I want my parents on my side. I’ll talk to them tonight and hope no one tells them before that.” He brushed by her on the way out of her office and turned toward the exit.
She hurried to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She was quite adept now at emptying a small amount of the meth onto the metal shelf over the sink, cutting it into lines, and snorting it through a rolled-up dollar bill. A punch hit her bloodstream and the worries of a moment before vanished. She returned to her office and gave herself five minutes to feel the drug in her system before walking down to Elizabeth’s.
* * *
There was a smattering of observers in the courtroom, mostly older men who made court watching their retirement hobby. There were no criminal proceedings taking place, so they were stuck watching a summary judgement motion in Courtroom Two, Judge Carruthers presiding. Clare recognized a few of them from the times she’d been in court to present minor motions. A couple nodded to her as she turned around at the counsel table and looked toward the door. She’d gotten to the courtroom early with a few boxes of exhibits. The motion was scheduled to start in five minutes and Elizabeth hadn’t arrived.
Several minutes later, she breezed in and walked confidently through the bar, plunking her briefcase on the table and smiling at Clare. She took out her notepad and a pen and put the briefcase on the floor behind the counsel table. “All set to go?”
Clare nodded. “If you are, I am.” She wanted to shrug out of her suit jacket. The room was overheated, the old radiator clanking away. Someone had opened a window a crack, but it wasn’t cooling the room down. She was clammy.
The bailiff walked in from the chambers area behind the courtroom. “All rise.”
She glanced at Elizabeth as they got to their feet. She seemed unflappable. Clare was very flappable. Judge Carruthers sat and everyone else followed suit.
“Ms. Nelson, would you like to begin?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Elizabeth Nelson for the defendant Peterson Agricultural.” She smiled up at Judge Carruthers, a good friend of hers and Hank’s. Today he was all business.
“Good afternoon, counsel. You’re here to present a motion for summary judgment. I have read both briefs and am ready to rule today.”
“Thank you, Judge.”
“Luther Woolfe for the plaintiff, Your Honor.” He turned toward Elizabeth and smiled as if he pitied her.
Clare sat at the counsel table next to Elizabeth, ready with a list of case law in the event she needed help remembering a name. She also had the boxes of tabbed exhibits on the floor behind her, ready to grab whatever was necessary. She could smell Elizabeth’s delicate perfume and she admired the suit she wore. It was a beautiful gray wool that draped perfectly, the skirt showing off the right amount of her very good legs. She waited for the argument to begin and tried to stop her left leg from vibrating underneath the table.
“The defendant, Peterson Agricultural, moves for summary judgment on the grounds that the plaintiff has failed to produce any evidence Peterson had knowledge that the gate through which Mr. Oleg fell was faulty or damaged. The undisputed facts, taken in a light most favorable to the plaintiff, do not support a negligence claim against Peterson as a matter of law.”
Clare gazed at Elizabeth, losing focus on her role as assistant as she watched her work. She thought about her a lot. She realized with a shudder it could be sort of a mother thing. Maybe a therapist wasn’t a bad idea.
Elizabeth continued speaking without notes. “In order to go forward on a claim of negligence, the plaintiff must submit evidence that the defendant, either by action or omission, failed to exercise that degree of care, vigilance, and forethought which a person of ordinary caution and prudence ought to exercise in the present circumstance. Peterson exercised that degree of caution, and there’s no evidence to the contrary.”
She now dove into the case law supporting these assertions and the argument got into the weeds. Clare tried to focus on every word. She knew the case law by heart. But her mind kept wandering to what Henry was going to tell Elizabeth later in the day. Would Elizabeth be as calm and confident then?
After the arguments, Judge Carruthers retired to his chambers for half an hour before returning. The courtroom rose again as he entered. When they sat back in their seats, Elizabeth put her hand on Clare’s arm and winked. The judge looked at both lawyers. “I’m ready to rule.” He then cited the evidence presented, the case law, and the arguments from both sides. “I’m denying the motion on the grounds the question of whether Peterson Agricultural received a recall notice is a disputable fact and therefore properly left for a jury to decide.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly before moving for a continuance on the current trial date, which was granted. Trial was set for two months. The judge left the courtroom and Elizabeth and Clare started packing up their things.
“I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach,” Clare said. “I can’t believe we lost.”
“That’s because you’re so thoroughly in our point of view. It’s hard for you to give any credence to the plaintiff’s argument. But we both knew this was a possible, if not probable, outcome. Now we prepare for trial.”
Elizabeth left Clare to deal with the boxes of documents. She wanted to kick something. All those weeks of work down the drain. And the work she put in preparing for the motion would pale in comparison to preparing for trial. The idea of a trial, though, began to feel exciting. She’d never been in one before and as a litigator, she needed to get that experience. Maybe Elizabeth would let her question some of the witnesses. Depending on how she looked at things, the future was not entirely bleak.
Chapter Twenty-six
Evan came home at six in the morning. Henry expected him to be drunk or high or both, but he bounced into the kitchen with clear eyes, full of energy. Henry sighed. He’d spent a sleepless night agonizing over when to tell his parents about his trouble with the police, finally getting out of bed at five. He’d chickened out the night before. He made a pot of coffee and looked out the window at the gray wintery day. He was sick to death of winter. He was sick to death with worry. Something had to give. He handed Evan a mug.
“Why are you up so early?” Evan said.
Henry sat at the kitchen table. “Never fell asleep.”
“Did you do some meth or something? That’s not like you.” Evan sat opposite Henry and appeared to be completely focused on him.
“No, I’ve got something on my mind.”
“Well, spit it out, man. I’m here to help.”
He didn’t treat Evan very well, but he got nothing but loyalty and support from him. He resolved to do better. “You know the little house I have out in the country?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That’s where Ray and Bobby got killed and the cops know I own the house.”
Evan leaned back in his chair. “Holy shit.” He didn’t let on Clare had said as much.
He told Evan of being questioned, about the beer bottles at the murder scene with his DNA on them, his refusal to give a sample, his certainty Freya and Ben still suspected him.
“It’s not really a big problem, is it?” Evan said. “I mean, you left before the shooting started.”
“I’d like it better if they didn’t even know I was at the scene. Leaving the party doesn’t mean I couldn’t come back and ambush them. Plus, it expos
es my association with known drug dealers”
“But why would you ambush them?” Evan said.
“I’m sure the cops can provide theories as to that. Clare’s the only one who can confirm that I left at all.”
Evan stopped before taking another sip of coffee. “Clare?”
“Yeah, she was there. No one else knows, so don’t say a word.”
“Of course not. What do you take me for? But why wasn’t she killed with the others?”
He smiled. “Because she had to go to the bathroom. Luck of the Irish I’d say.” He looked at Evan. “Where have you been? You look like you’re ready to go to class.”
He ran his hand through his thick hair. “I was with a nice girl last night. Doesn’t drink or smoke. It was kind of sexy.”
“And you lasted a whole night with her?” Henry got up to pour more coffee.
“I like her. I’m only here now because she had to get up for a six o’clock shift at the hospital.” He paused. “Did Clare tell you whether she saw the shooter while she was there?”
“If she did, she didn’t tell me and I’m sure she would have.”
Henry was at his parents’ office by nine thirty. Donna pointed him in and he walked the fifty feet to his mother’s office as if it were a gangplank. The light was on in Clare’s office, but she wasn’t there. Thank God for small favors. He saw his mother with her head bent over some papers on her desk. He knocked softly on the door. She raised her head and a smile spread across her face.
“Henry! What a nice surprise. What are you doing here?” She came around her desk and gave him a hug. It was getting harder by the minute to tell her.
“Can’t a son come visit his mother?” His smile felt thin and stiff.
“Of course, you can. Anytime. Have a seat. Do you want some coffee?”
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