by Alora Kate
“Ki.”
“Hey.” She was breathing heavily.
“You in trouble?” I asked taking my glasses off so I could see her better. My receptionist stood, and I put my hand out to her to make her go away.
“Maybe?”
“The kind of trouble that required a lawyer?”
Please say no.
“Maybe?”
Fuck.
Private investigator.
Undercover.
I knew an undercover.
I had to call him.
“Your wife’s here,” she informed me.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “See, you are the best person for the job. You can predict things.”
“Sometimes.” She shook her head. “Not really.”
“Happenstance.” I kept eye contact. She liked that.
She’s liked a lot of things.
Simple things.
Easy things.
She stood up slowly, and I started to roll my sleeves down. If Vicki was on her way here, I was on my way out.
I had court.
An innocent client.
The extra blood was on purpose.
“Why do you hide them?”
Her eyes danced around my tattoos. “Professionalism, Miss Nicolson.”
“Makes sense.”
“It does.” I grabbed the tie.
I had to wear a tie.
I had to dress up, play the part.
“What doesn’t make sense is why you’re here.”
“I’m not serving you,” she replied.
Her bluntness made me chuckle. No one made me chuckle. “That’s good to hear.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Are you?”
“I might be.”
She can’t be in trouble.
She’s too small.
Young.
Inexperienced.
Braces.
Blood.
The shrill ringing of my phone pulled my thoughts together for an instant, breaking me out of my cycle.
“What?” I snapped answering the phone.
“She’s here.”
“No.” I hung up and started packing up the pictures, trying not to scare her away, but some fell to the floor.
She was nice.
She helped.
But the blood.
The victim.
Her jeans.
Why was she wearing jeans?
I grabbed the pictures, and she apologized.
Shit.
The brother did it.
Focus, Prescot.
“If you didn’t come here to serve me . . .” Focus, Prescot. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm your thoughts and hold it together. We don’t have time for this. “Can I be blunt?”
“You seem like a blunt person.”
“You were right. My wife’s here.”
She continued to watch me shove the papers into my briefcase.
She had to leave.
I had to leave.
Court.
I had court.
“Walk out with me. I’ll tell her I’m with a client and we’ll go sit in the conference room until she leaves.”
“That won’t work, Mr. Bale. Your wife saw me when I was here working; she won’t buy that I’m a client.”
Not Mr. Bale.
Prescot.
I looked at her for a minute.
Her face.
So simple.
I would never forget.
She needed my words.
“Ki, don’t take this the wrong way.” Be blunt. “My wife.” Hopefully not for much longer. “Vicki is the most stuck-up, pretentious bitch I have ever known. If you aren’t throwing money at her, or allowing her to demean you publicly, or fucking her, she doesn’t register you in her world; she won’t remember you. I’m willing to bet she won’t remember you, so just follow my lead.”
She glanced at her watch.
“Do you need to be somewhere?”
“Kind of.”
“It won’t take long.” I held the briefcase in my hand and walked around my desk, at the same time Vicki came through the door.
“What the hell is this?”
“I’ve told you many times, that you just can’t walk in here like you own the place.”
“I’m your wife.”
She never belonged to me.
It was a mistake.
The entire five years was a mistake.
“This is my place of business, Vicki.”
She pointed at Ki. “You were in the elevator.”
“Was I?” she replied.
They were in the elevator together.
“You hit those buttons on purpose!” she yelled at her then looked at me. “Who is she?”
“A client,” I lied.
I was a good liar.
“Why’d you hit the buttons?”
I knew why.
“Um. It’s my first time here?” she lied.
She wasn’t a good liar.
“Vicki, leave my client out of this.” I walked passed her; Ki slid in front of me, but Vicki jabbed one of her talons on Ki’s shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She stepped closer and eyed Ki.
“I don’t believe you!” she yelled. “Prescot, you mean to tell me that this isn’t the same incompetent secretary you had working here?” She turned her body toward Ki and chuckled. “Like I’d ever forget . . . Braces.”
“Vicki, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I masked my face and slid my hand to Ki’s back.
Her jeans.
She had to walk in front of me.
I was taking her to the conference room by Molly.
The lobby.
My client.
“There’s no way she could be your client and your secretary, Prescot,” she yelled as we walked down the hallway. We passed a few rooms but kept walking right behind the receptionist desk. Molly turned in her chair, eyes wide.
“Molly, call George please.”
“No, Prescot! No!”
Vicki hated George.
I didn’t.
I showed Ki the room, and she went inside.
I turned to her.
My wife.
My hell.
My living hell.
My one mistake.
So much regret.
We were too close, but I bent my head to her ear anyway.
“Sign the fucking papers, Vic, or it’s going to get ugly.”
“But I love you,” she replied, putting her arm around my waist. I tried to pull away, but she flung her body at me.
“You never loved me, Vic.”
“I did,” she lied. “You know I did.”
She was a great liar.
“I never loved you.”
The disappointment in her eyes almost led me to believe that I hurt her.
But I knew otherwise.
She only wanted my money. The status.
She got to me during the worst time of my life.
She kissed me on the cheek when George stepped off the elevator, and I went to the conference room to stand next to Ki.
Ki.
Ki was simple.
Easy to like.
“Have you ever made a decision that you regret?”
“Yes.”
“How’d you get over it?”
“I haven’t.”
I looked down at her, and she averted her eyes.
She was telling the truth.
Truth.
She was innocent.
My client was innocent.
Three blood types.
So much blood.
Shit.
I had court.
“I’m late for court.”
All my life, I was told I had to talk. I had to use words.
Speak! my mother would yell, repeatedly.
I drove her nuts.
She hated me.
I hated her.
I didn’t like to speak.
I didn’t like to give
my words unless they meant something.
In court, or with clients, they meant something. Anything to do with my career meant something.
Ki.
She had a way of reaching in and pulling them from me. She wanted them, and I had a feeling she deserved them.
Chapter 7 – Ki
I pushed through the doors to the sub shop and spotted Alexa in a back booth. I nodded my head at her before walking up to the counter and placing my usual order. A full-sized chicken breast sandwich, with mozzarella and bacon, lightly toasted. I threw in an order of chips and grabbed a drink before paying. I weaved my way between the bistro tables, which were mostly filled with moms catching up with their friends or tourists.
“I got a little info on Lucas,” Alexa blurted as soon as I sat down in the booth.
“I saw Lucas!”
She froze mid-bite and put her sandwich down. “What do you mean you saw him?”
“Well, he found me.”
“How?” she asked, taking a bite of her sub sandwich.
I figured I could fill her in while I waited for someone to call out that my order was ready. I eyeballed Alexa’s sandwich, jealous that she was already enjoying hers. That’s what I get for letting Mr. Bale distract me with his wife drama. “I was sitting on a bench, waiting for that woman to walk out of the temp service. OMG!” I slammed my hand on the table. A group of kids a couple of tables away from us turned and stared before continuing their conversation. I waited a beat and then lowered my voice. “It was Prescot’s wife!”
She started choking on her sandwich, and I moved to go pat her back, but she waved me off. She took a long sip of her iced tea and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Continue.”
“His wife!” I tried to contain myself. “His stupid, skinny, bitch of a wife is cheating on him.”
“Who’d want to cheat on a man that looked that good?”
“Right?” I knew she had seen his picture online. “He’s better in person, and she’s trying to get more money from him.”
“By cheating?” she asked, confused.
“No.”
They called my name, I grabbed my food, and sat back down. As I unwrapped my sub, I said, “She’s getting the temp service owner to send over pretty girls, as a way to tempt Prescot into sleeping with them. It’s stupid though. I don’t think he looks at people that way. He’s so wrapped up in his work.”
“Tell me everything.”
We ate, we exchanged information, and she suggested that I go to court and watch Prescot in action. She even called Josh to see if he could figure out exactly where he was and if it was something I could sit in on. I wasn’t sure if I was going to do that, but she insisted. She also told me that when she asked her detective friend about Lucas Hills that he didn’t confirm or deny he knew the name. She said the flirting didn’t work and we weren’t sure what that meant.
“Okay, so this is what we know.” I pulled out my small notebook from my bag. “He was born into a rich family. A very rich family who are well-known in New York, and stopped contacting his mom roughly six months ago. His cell is dead or turned off,” I paused and looked up at her. “We need to find someone who knows how to find cell phones. Like where their last pings came from.”
“That’s a great idea! Maybe we could hire someone part-time.”
“Well, let’s not get crazy, but yes, that’d help, or someone who does freelance work like we do.”
“You’re so smart.”
“I know.” I smirked and started writing again. “Okay, so Lucas knows we’re looking for him, but how? You were with the detective when he sat next to me, and the coffee shop was a dead end, so how did he know?”
“He’s probably following you, or us. It’s the only way he’d know.”
A chill went through me. I wasn’t used to being on the other side of this. I was used to following people, not the other way around.
I sat back in the booth. “Shit, he is.”
“Wonder if we could draw him back out?”
“What are you thinking?”
She grinned. “Holding up a sign with his name on it.”
I started laughing. “That would be hilarious, but I think we need to be a bit more discreet with this case.”
“We can’t tell his mom either, because then we’d have to return part of the money,” she reminded me.
“True. I mean, we didn’t find him.”
“He found us.”
“Something funky is going on for sure,” I said, tapping my pencil on the notebook.
“This new hypothetical employee of ours, we need them to be able to hack into things. Like the police database or the NSA.”
“We aren’t trying to hack the NSA.” I dropped my pencil and pulled a sucker out of my bag. “The police database, that’d help us a lot. We could take on larger cases.”
“I made a mental note to find someone with those skills.”
“I’m sure you did.” I let the purple sucker invade my taste buds, and let my thoughts wander but they wandered to Prescot immediately. The gentle touch of his hand on the middle of my back. His chuckle. That damn dimple. He wasn’t much of a talker, kind of an oddball in my opinion, but that was the best part. Given his size and handsomeness, I would have thought he was cocky and slept around. But he was married. Well, not for long. It was obvious why they were getting a divorce, but at one point, it was good. They were in love, or they wouldn’t have been married.
“So,” she said, placing our wrappers on the tray, “we should both go watch Mr. Bale in action. Josh just texted me where he was, and said he could get us in.”
I wanted to see that side of him. See if he was the same when he’s in court as he was the few times I’ve been around him.
I heard the table of patrons behind me talking about movies, and I remembered there was a new one coming out that I wanted to see. I pulled my phone out and looked it up online, and decided tomorrow morning I was going to treat myself. Once a month, I go to a movie, alone. It’s like going to the spa for some people or having a pedicure. I couldn’t eat popcorn because of my braces, but soon I would be able to. So I got my usual small Cherry Pepsi and brought a few suckers each time. I go early and made sure to sit in the top row, right in the middle. It was the best seat in the place.
“What about Lucas?” I asked her after she had dumped the tray.
“I’ll make a few calls, but really, we’re at a standstill.”
“What about the other cases?”
She pulled out her matching notebook and flipped through some pages. “We’re good. We can work on them later today or tomorrow.”
“I’m going to a movie in the morning.”
“That’s my Ki. Always doing shit alone.”
“Yes, and I love it. Besides, we go to a movie once a month together also.”
“True.” She closed her notebook. “Let’s go to court!”
Twenty minutes later, we slipped inside the courtroom and sat in the back row. The judge was an older man and was looking at the person who was testifying, but as soon as we sat down, I couldn’t see them. It was packed in here.
“Objection! Your Honor, the—”
“Oh, come on—”
“Your Honor!”
The judge interrupted them, he said a bunch of stuff I didn’t understand, and then it got quiet again.
“Who’s who?” Alexa whispered, trying to look around the people in front of us for a better view.
“I don’t know, but it didn’t sound like him.”
Prescot was sitting in the chair on the right side, and there were three other men at the table. One was his client, and the other two must be his associates.
I glanced at the jury. Most of them looked like they were in their thirties with a few in their fifties. They were all looking at someone different, their eyes bouncing around; some of them were taking notes. Those twelve people would decide this man’s fate.
“Your witness, Mr. Bale.”
Alexa
shoulder checked me and smiled.
“Knock it off,” I hissed more to the butterflies that were fluttering in my stomach than to Alexa. I felt like my face was on fire and I was thankful at that moment that I always blended in.
“It’s fun.”
I saw him stand from his chair. “Did you kill Miss—”
“Objection!” the other attorney yelled as he jumped up.
“I’d like to know the answer to that question.”
“Your Honor!”
“Sit down, Counselor.”
He sat, and started whispering to the man sitting next to him.
“Did you kill Miss Lemon?” Prescot asked again, not moving from behind the table.
“No,” the man answered, who I still couldn’t see.
“Can you see anything?” I asked Alexa.
“No, those two,” she pointed at two tall men in the second row, “are blocking my view, but there’s nowhere else to sit.”
“Did you hire someone to kill Miss Lemon?”
“No.”
I could see the other lawyer getting upset and on the verge of objecting again.
“Were you with Miss Lemon on the night of the murder?”
“No.”
Prescot reached for something on his desk. “Your Honor, I’d like to enter into evidence, Exhibit 6A.” A few gasps could be heard within the courtroom, and the judge raised his gavel in warning.
The man finally jumped out of his chair. “We have no record of this new evidence, your Honor.”
Prescot handed something to him, then strode with confidence to the judge’s stand and handed something to him also.
The judge looked it over. “Now you do. We’ll take an hour recess so you can prepare.”
He banged his gavel a few times and then stood.
“This is fun,” Alexa said while I watched Prescot talk to the other men at the table.
“Let’s go before he sees me and thinks I’m stalking him.”
“But we just got here,” she whined.
People started standing to leave, and I wanted to get out of here before he saw me.
“We can come eavesdrop on court anytime we want.” I pulled her behind me, and we slipped out, hopefully without him seeing me.
“You’re no fun.”
Once we were safely outside and far enough away from the courthouse that my heart began to beat in a regular rhythm again, I stopped to pull out another sucker. “Hey, I was invited to happy hour by Molly, so she must think I’m fun.”
“Who’s Molly?”
“The receptionist at Prescot’s firm.”