Her Something Impetuous

by Hunt Harris, Kim

  Talking to Karen about hanging out at Steve's law office had him remembering the old days, when he'd idolized Steve O’Donnell and spent every free moment at his storefront law office.

  Steve had been like a superhero to sixteen-year-old Will. Steve was about twenty-five, not long out of law school. Tall, athletic, with all American good looks and an easy smile. What was most important to Will, Steve fought for the little guy. He set up an office across from the county jail and defended people who couldn't afford a high-priced lawyer. He didn't make much money, and he didn't make a lot of friends, but the friendships he made were forged out of admiration and gratitude. Will wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

  Steve wrote letters of recommendation to help Will get scholarships, get into college, into the congressional internship program. He was the first person Will turned to when he was arrested.

  Therefore Steve had been the first person to think Will was lying about his innocence. But certainly not the last.

  Will waited until ten o’clock, left Bear a note that he was borrowing his car, and drove downtown. He made the block a couple of times, surprised at how nervous he was to see Steve again. By this morning Steve probably knew about Will's arrest yesterday. What did Steve think now? That Will had just proven he'd been right all along?

  But the truth was, no matter what words had been said twenty years ago, he wanted to see his old friend. And if anyone knew the inside story about Michael Way, it would be Steve.

  Will pulled to the curb in front of Steve's office and got out before he had a chance to change his mind. What used to be a dry cleaner was now a donut shop, and both the Mexican restaurant and the hardware store were now bail bonds offices.

  Inside Steve's office had changed little. The furniture was the same, the walls were the same. Steve, however, was much different.

  Once tall and athletic, Steve was now stooped and thin. Will recognized him, but didn't have time to hide the shock from his face when Steve rose slowly from his desk and hobbled toward him.

  “I know,” Steve said, his voice as strong as ever. “It’s awful, isn’t it? It’s been a long time but by looking at me you’d think it was a century or more since we last saw each other.”

  Will swallowed and stuck out his hand.

  Steve’s grip was shaky but strong. “You clairvoyant now? Because I was just thinking about you this morning.”

  “I’ll bet you were. Read the paper?”

  “I did.” Steve cocked his head toward his desk. “You tried to tell me twenty years ago and I didn’t believe you, so this morning I was spending a little time beating myself up. Sit down.”

  Will rubbed his hands together. “I see you still like to get right to the point. I wondered how we’d deal with this topic.” He smiled and took the chair Steve indicated, relieved that things were out in the open.

  “No point. I screwed up when you told me what Michael had done. I didn’t believe you.”

  “No one did.”

  “All the more reason I should have stood by you. And me, the champion of the underdog.” Steve snorted. “I see you’ve managed to make some lemonade, though.” He reached to a shelf above him and pulled out a couple of dog-eared paperbacks. “Impressive.”

  Will shrugged, but it meant a lot to have Steve’s approval, even more than his parents’ approval. “Want an autograph?”

  “Don’t go turning diva on me,” Steve said, but slid a pen toward Will. “I hope you’re here because you have something on Michael.”

  “Besides my piddly little arrests?” Will shook his head as he autographed the inside of Steve’s books. “Not yet, but I’m looking.”

  “Good for you. Good.”

  “I could use some help. A place to get started.”

  Steve studied him for a second. “You don’t actually have a starting place yet?”

  “Just a hunch that things aren’t on the up and up. And a desire for revenge.”

  “So is this is a pursuit of justice or a personal vendetta?”

  “Let’s call it a two-for-one.” Will leaned back and folded his arms over his belt. “Why did you say you hoped I was here because I had something on Michael?”

  “Because things aren’t on the up and up with him. And I’d have to say you’re entitled to a personal vendetta. I’d take him on if I had anything besides rumors and hunches myself, and if I was in any condition to do so.” He indicated the cane.

  “What’s up, Steve?” Will asked, nodding at the cane.

  “MS. Multiple Sclerosis.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I was diagnosed five years ago and it’s been up and down since. Mostly down these days. It sucks. Not much else you can say about it.”

  Will heard the door open, and Steve looked past Will’s shoulder and raised a hand to someone. “Hey, there you are. Come over here and meet an old friend.”

  Steve stood slowly and Will stood too, turning to see a young, attractive woman enter the office. She left her purse on the front desk and kissed Steve. “Good morning.” She turned to Will. “Marcy Washington.”

  “Will Corcoran,” Will said. “You work with this guy?”

  “She’s the only reason the place is still up and operating.” He winked at her. “She’s actually the only reason I’m still up and running.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She patted Steve on the stomach and moved away. “Did you make coffee?”

  “Don’t I always?” Steve groaned as he sat back at his desk. “What do you think of that? I’m now officially broke and handicapped, no longer the promising young professional, and I get the prettiest girl in town.”

  “She obviously feels sorry for you, man.”

  Steve laughed. “Whatever. I’ll take it. How about a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m bringing it.” Marcy came back carrying a tray with cups and a pot. “How do you take it, Will?”

  “Black,” Will said.

  “I told you about Will, right?” Steve asked as he poured.

  Marcy nodded. “I see you got an autograph. Steve’s very proud of what you’ve done. The case with the rapist kept him up all night.”

  “Me too,” Will said. “Several nights, in fact.” He blew on his coffee. That case had been one of the first ones he’d investigated as a reporter at a newspaper in the Midwest. He’d done enough digging to figure out the guy who’d been convicted was as much a victim as the survivor of the attack had been, a victim of a slipshod system and an uninterested attorney. Having recently been through his own ordeal with wrongful conviction, Will was even more sympathetic to the man. Will made finding the real rapist and making sure the innocent man won a new trial his driving passion.

  That experience opened his eyes to just how common it was for the wrong person to be punished for a crime. Will realized he had a special opportunity on his hands.

  Writing a book about the case was more for his own therapy than with any hope that he’d actually sell it. But as the case concluded and he’d actually helped an innocent man be set free from a thirty year prison term, he knew he had a story to tell that a lot of people needed to read. He also knew if he wanted to make freeing the wrongly convicted a full-time career, he’d have to find some way to make it pay.

  “Can you believe he actually tried to take some credit for your success?” Marcy hopped onto Steve’s desk and swung a foot in Steve’s direction.

  “Hey, he was my protégé.”

  “True.” Will sipped his coffee, then looked at Marcy. “I did learn about investigating, questioning witnesses and searching records from him. So he has a right to take some credit for that. And of course, he did let me go into court without adequate representation. One of those tough love lessons that worked out because he knew it would eventually lead me down the path I’m on now. Crash course in fighting for the underdog.”

  “Low blow, Will,” Steve said, without rancor. “Will’s on a vendetta against Michael Way,” he told Marcy. “I told him he could probably d
ig up something if he tried hard enough.”

  “Good luck with that. You’re going to need it,” Marcy said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s hard to find someone who’s willing to talk about Michael Way.” She tilted her head. “Well, actually you’d find plenty of people who don’t like him and want to see him out of office. Those in jail or on probation don’t make the best witnesses, though.” She took another sip of coffee. “I’ve heard he keeps a blackmail file on half the police department.”

  “A blackmail file?”

  “Yes, you know. Pictures or some kind of proof of something each of them wouldn’t want to get out. He deals in information, basically. Do what I want or your wife will get these pictures of you with the hooker I hired to get you drunk and naked.”

  Will shook his head. “Sounds like Michael.”

  “These are just rumors, of course. Could be completely fabricated. But still, it’s worth looking into.” She frowned and chewed her lip. “I might have a couple of phone numbers if you can give me some time. I know a girl who used to date a cop a couple of years ago. She told me she had a funny feeling something was going on. Then he moved and they broke up. If you could track him down he might be willing to talk, since he’s not on the Piedmont PD anymore.”

  While Marcy made her phone calls, Will told Steve about Kitty and left one of the pictures on Steve’s desk. He left the office an hour later with names and phone numbers, as well as an invitation to dinner with the couple the next week.

  He checked his watch and saw that he had enough time to get back to the shop and make a couple of phone calls before Karen came for day two of their adventure. He found himself driving faster than he should have. That wasn’t smart because in the first place the local police were looking for a reason to pull him over. In the second place it meant he couldn’t wait to see Karen.

  Stupid. Damn stupid. He was setting himself up for a fall where she was concerned, and he knew it. And yet…he couldn’t wait to see her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Thanks for talking to me,” Will said to the New Orleans cop Marcy had given him the number for. “I have a lot more questions. Are you willing to answer them?” It had taken some heavy-hitting to get the guy to concede things weren’t entirely kosher between the Michael’s office and the Piedmont police department. Will knew it would take a lot more to get him to admit to something that might jeopardize his law enforcement career.

  The man waited a couple of beats. “It depends on the questions.”

  “Understood. You know, of course, they won’t be easy ones.”

  “I know that.”

  “And while I’ll do everything I can to protect you, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “I know that too.”

  Will gave him a moment to think. “What I can guarantee is that I’m going to keep digging, and if the DA or anyone in his office is crooked, I will find out. Whatever comes to the surface will possibly affect a lot of people. You can either be on the side that tries to make things right, or hope whatever you have to hide gets lost in the shuffle. Which is not a safe bet, if you ask me.”

  There was a time, years ago, when he hated using scare tactics to get people to talk. He’d long since decided he hated the idea of innocent men losing their freedom a lot more.

  He heard a car pull up outside and looked out the window. It was Karen.

  “I’m going to give you a few days to decide which side of the fence you’re on,” Will said. “My best advice is to look at how well you’re sleeping at night, and ask yourself what it would do for your conscience to set things right. I’ll be in touch.”

  He hung up and jotted a few quick notes on the pad on his desk about his impression of the cop, and opened the desk drawer to slide the notebook inside. He stopped and frowned. Things were out of place. He wasn’t obsessive about how things were placed in his desk, but he did make a habit of always keeping pens on the right side of the drawer in the tray, because searching for a pen when he needed to make notes made him crazy.

  The pens were scattered around the drawer. It was a small thing, but…he knew he hadn’t left them that way. He looked around the room, and although he couldn’t say for sure he felt like there were other things moved, shifted around. As if someone had been looking for something.

  Had Michael been here, or had someone searched his place? Had something else been planted?

  He bounded down the stairs. He needed to ask Bear if he’d heard or anything strange, but stopped cold when Karen walked in the door.

  She’d been crying.

  Damn. He had no resistance to women when they cried, and this was Karen – who was already under his skin – crying genuine tears. He was a goner.

  He moved from behind the counter to ask if she was okay, but she didn’t give him a chance.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine, I’m fine.” She gave a very wobbly smile. “I just got…” She shrugged. “But it’s nothing, probably. Just a threat. And even if he’s serious, he would never be able to pull it off.”

  Will’s heart kicked into overtime. He hadn’t seen her this upset over the threat of jail time. “Who threatened what?”

  “My lawyer called this morning and said Michael was going to fight for custody of Cait.”

  Her voice broke on the last word, and she swayed on her feet.

  “Sit down,” he ordered, leading her over to a chair. “What exactly did he say?”

  “Just that. Michael was planning to fight for custody of Cait.”

  “But custody has already been decided, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but of course if he changes his mind he’s free to file whatever papers he wants to. The whole thing can be dragged back into court at any time.”

  “Have you talked to Michael?”

  “No, I called his office but of course he wouldn’t answer my call. I thought about going over there but…decided to come here instead.”

  “Good move,” he said, although he had no clue what to do now.

  “Why would he do this? He doesn’t want her to live with him. He never has time for her when she is there. To be honest I don’t think he even likes Cait. She’s too much like me. Why would he fight me for custody of her?”

  Will took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Karen. If I were guessing, I’d say if he is going to run for Haney’s congressional seat, he figured a more stable, family-oriented image would help. Being recently divorced with a young girlfriend can’t be a good image for a politician. Maybe he wants to add Cait to the picture so he’ll come off a little more decent.”

  “Oh God.” Karen leaned over and wrapped her arms around herself. “He can’t really do it. Not really.”

  “It would be an impossible battle,” Will said. He knelt before her and made her look into his eyes. “He’d have to prove that you were an unfit mother, unable to take care of her.”

  “Like if I was on drugs, hanging out in tattoo parlors and strip clubs.”

  Will found he couldn’t say anything.

  “Is that what this is all about, do you think? He wants to get me in trouble so he can have Cait?”

  He shook his head, but he couldn’t help thinking the same thing.

  “What if he wins? What if he wins the election, wins custody of Cait, wins everything?”

  “He won’t.”

  “He could. People love him. You know that. He can be very convincing. Cait would be a thousand miles away in Washington D.C. for a big part of the year. I’d never even see her.”

  “That won’t happen.” He forced himself to sound sure. She needed a champion right now, and he’d be damned if he was going to stand by and let Michael Way do this to her. So he guessed that made him the best man for the job. “We have to find Kitty. Today.”

  “What if we can’t?”

  “We will.”

  “What if she won’t tell us what we need her to?”

  “She will. Whatever Michael has paid her, we’l
l top it.”

  “I’ll give her whatever she wants. I’ll sell my house, my car, my shop. Whatever. If it helps me keep Cait, I’ll do it.”

  “I doubt it would come to that. Remember, we only have to top whatever Michael offered her.”

  “Good point. Knowing Michael, that shouldn’t be too costly. He’s probably offered her some free gift he got with purchase.”

  Will forced a laugh and winked at her. “Exactly. It’s just a threat, Karen. A power play. Whatever he wants, he’s just trying to scare you into giving it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” God, he hoped so. “Did you eat lunch?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then we’ll start at the coffee shop. A greasy cheeseburger and piece of pie always makes the day look better.”

  They ate lunch and Will did his best to keep her talking, making jokes and telling stories of when he was a newspaper reporter, weird people who had come into the tattoo parlor, things Bear had done that made no sense to either of them. Karen pretended for his sake that it was actually working, but she could only eat a few bites of her cheeseburger and none of her pie because the knot in her stomach was taking up so much room.

  Will took the phone book from his shop and they searched the ad pages for gentlemen’s clubs. At a place south of town they found a girl who said she knew Kitty and for a moment Karen thought they’d hit pay dirt. But after waiting at the bar for an hour and a half it turned out to be the wrong Kitty.

  “The good thing is,” Karen said as they walked back to her car. “I’m starting to get more comfortable around all the nudity.” She frowned as she unlocked the doors. “If you can call that a good thing.”

  While Karen drove Will made phone calls on his cell phone. The lawyer friend he told her about last night knew someone who knew someone who thought they might have seen Kitty two nights ago at some tiny dive in the warehouse district. They went by there and showed the picture but no one there recognized her.