“We’re two smart attorneys. We can get them to settlement without Mr. Garbot.”
“They’re adamant, Savannah. No deal.” There was no margin for argument in Nash’s voice.
“But Garbot is unavailable.” Indefinitely, according to his assistant, but Savannah would let Nash figure that out on his own. Since the man’s wife was on the list of those who died, Savannah couldn’t press for him to resume the mediation, not yet.
“I’m sorry, but no meeting. If you want to send a settlement offer over, I will convey it to my client as I must, but short of your client giving them the patent, it won’t go far.”
Savannah bit back a sputter. Did Nash think he had something on Garbot that would make the mediator take his client’s side? It was the only thing that made sense. “Expect something in the mail.”
A moment later he’d hung up, and Savannah stared at the phone. A quick call to Rochelle and John, and Belle was drafting the settlement offer. Savannah wanted to believe the settlement offer would be considered but feared it was just another delay tactic. If it was, it added to the story of their competitor’s unreasonableness they’d eventually tell in mediation or court.
At lunchtime she slipped on tennis shoes and walked across Old Town to Founder’s Park along the Potomac. She needed to feel the sun on her face and the breeze off the river. Across the water’s expanse she could make out the joint Navy and Air Force base at Anacostia-Bolling. Then she kept walking until she reached a bench from which she could barely make out the Fourteenth Street Bridge. She’d heard it would fully reopen by the evening rush hour. It had taken several days for the Army Corps of Engineers to confirm the structural integrity of the bridge after the plane careened off it, and now the sides were being strengthened in a couple of places. Thanks to diverted traffic, her Monday-morning commute had taken twice as long as usual even though her route was only five miles.
As she sank onto a park bench and let the sounds of chirping birds and lapping waves roll around her, she was overwhelmed with gratitude. She was blessed to live in this city. She should be content with her life. Then why wasn’t she?
The question ricocheted around her mind as she walked back to her firm and slipped inside the back door. Before she could take off her sneakers and replace them with her usual low pumps, Bella paged her phone.
“A client is here to see you.”
“Did I forget an appointment?” Savannah woke up her computer and pulled up her calendar. “Calendar says I’m free until three.”
“Rochelle is here and says it can’t wait.”
“Okay, send her back. Is John with her?”
“Not this time.”
“Thanks.” Savannah finished changing her shoes, slid the sneakers back in their bag, then put them in the bottom drawer of her desk. She was slipping her lipstick back in the top drawer when Rochelle knocked on her door. “Come on in.”
Savannah appraised Rochelle as she walked into the room. Today, Rochelle was wearing jeans with strategic rips and lace along with a maroon hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with University of Siena. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore a floral backpack slung across her shoulders. The combination made her look like an undergrad at one of the many local universities rather than a fortysomething start-up executive.
The woman perched on the edge of one of the chairs in front of Savannah’s desk and then slid the backpack off.
Savannah waited to hear why Rochelle had come without an appointment.
Rochelle unzipped the top of her bag, pulled out a folder, and slid it across the desk. “We got this today.”
The world was smiling on him.
It felt like a sign.
The scum may not have been part of his daughter’s disappearance, but he participated.
The article made that much clear.
Men like him were the reason his baby had been stolen, broken, destroyed.
Now it was his turn.
He forced his thoughts to harden, hone in on a plan. This was not the time to let emotion overcome him. No, it was time for iron-clad logic, the kind that led from point A to B to C all the way to the inevitable conclusion.
Care was needed. Deliberate pacing. This opportunity wouldn’t come easily a second time.
He must be quick. But he must not be reckless.
This man was the one he could reach. And if he died, the others’ pursuit of evil would be slowed. They wouldn’t be able to harm other girls so easily.
He could not protect his Gracie, but he could protect others.
He would.
His resolve hardened. This was right. It was his call and he would answer. It was the least he could do and the most. Gracie was lost. But the others weren’t, not if he acted now.
First to find the man’s residence.
When the pilot was released from the hospital, quickness would matter while the man was still weak. Surviving the crash might mean he’d sidestepped God’s judgment for the moment, but he wouldn’t avoid it again.
When he executed his own judgment.
Chapter Fifteen
Savannah eyed Rochelle’s envelope before picking it up. “What’s this?”
“A subpoena. The FBI wants access to our code.”
Savannah frowned as she opened the folder. “Why?”
Rochelle shrugged, her blonde bob swaying as she looked away. “I think it’s related to the crash.”
“The Fourteenth Street Bridge crash?” Rochelle nodded, and Savannah pulled the subpoena from the envelope. “Why?”
Rochelle rubbed her hands together as if trying to get warm, not hard to imagine with the threat of snow in the forecast again. “I think they’re fishing for information.”
“What kind of information?”
“John and I aren’t sure.”
Savannah pinched the bridge of her nose. “There must be a reason. Help me speculate.”
“My guess? They want us to recreate what happened on Flight 2840. They don’t have the flight’s black box yet. In theory we could shadow a flight and simulate what really happened.”
“Can you do that if the technology wasn’t on board?”
Rochelle shrugged but still didn’t make eye contact. “John insists we can. Before the injunction we tested that capability on a few flights for Air Express. In theory it wouldn’t be hard to reverse engineer modeling to determine what could have caused the crash. It could be as simple as lack of proper deicing. The weather changed over the course of the morning, creating an urgency to get flights off before the airport could be shut down.”
“It closed because of the crash.”
“Yes, but it might have closed anyway because of the weather. Dulles was closed, and so was BWI.”
Savannah sped read the subpoena. The language left little room for evasion. “The FBI wants your software.”
“They can’t have it. That software is our business. It’s why we’ve been sued. If that’s released we’re done.” Rochelle’s words were sharp. “If we comply, our competitors won’t have to reverse engineer our software. The government can hand deliver it to them. At that point we might as well lock our doors and send our employees home.”
Savannah leaned forward and studied her client. “Rochelle, do you understand how crazy that sounds?”
“Yes.” The woman didn’t elaborate, letting the word hang in the air.
“You’re responding to a government demand. If you don’t, you’re breaking the law.”
“And if I comply, then our code is public.”
“It’s not.”
“There’s nothing to prevent its release through a Freedom of Information Act request. I don’t see grounds under that to keep it secure.”
Savannah pulled up a quick search on FOIA exemptions. “That’s not true. There’s an exemption for anything related to trade secrets and commercial information obtained from a private source that would cause competitive harm. That’s this exact situation. You have to turn it over.”
<
br /> Rochelle crossed her arms but didn’t say a word.
Savannah didn’t rush to fill the void, but Rochelle remained stubbornly silent. Savannah shook her head and picked up the subpoena. It was standard except for the demand time. “You only have until Thursday to comply. That’s three days.”
“We can’t respond that fast.”
Savannah reread the subpoena. “I’ll call the listed attorney. See if we can negotiate more time. Since this request is part of an active investigation, I’m not sure we’ll be successful.”
“I can wait.”
Something was . . . off. Savannah considered her client. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m telling you all that I can. At least right now.” Rochelle looked away, and her fingers plucked at her sweatshirt’s hem.
Savannah cocked her head. “Something is bothering you.”
Rochelle’s gaze snapped back to Savannah. “This whole mess is about to kill the company I’ve invested my life savings in, not to mention many of my family members’ savings. That allows me to be on edge.”
If she could have, Savannah would have taken a step back to create space between them. “I’ll call and see what I can do.” She picked up the phone and dialed the number listed on the subpoena. She left a voice mail for the attorney, then turned back to Rochelle. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back, promise. Until then, I need you to start compiling the documents listed in the subpoena. Collect everything and then we’ll go through it all here. I don’t want you to self-select what you exclude.”
“We can’t comply in time.”
“You’ll have to.” Savannah waited a beat. “We’ll start in the morning. Bring the code here, and we’ll prepare the response.”
Rochelle stood and gathered her large bag. “Thanks for your time. I’d better get back to work.”
Savannah stood quickly, bumping her shin against the desk’s leg. “Let me make a photocopy of this before you leave.”
“Already did. You get to keep that one.” Rochelle headed out the door without a backward glance. After she disappeared into the hallway, Savannah kept watching, her thoughts spinning.
Something was going on because Rochelle had become hostile, and that wasn’t like the woman. There was no getting around it. Savannah needed to talk to John and get his take on the impact of the subpoena. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.
He answered without preamble. “You talk to Rochelle?”
“Yes.” She paused. “The live tests of your software stopped with the injunction.”
“Just like we told you.” She could almost hear his eyes roll. “Why are you still asking?”
“Then why is the FBI subpoenaing your code?”
“They’re desperate for answers on what caused the crash. If they get our product, it can run simulations.”
“But other products exist for that.”
“Sure, but not as good as ours.”
She had to smile. Confidence wasn’t an issue for John. “Then complying helps.”
There was a rustling sound. “No. It’ll kill us. That piece is tied to the code the black box feeds directly to the satellite. We can’t separate the two.”
“All right.” Savannah bit her lower lip as she tried to evaluate what she’d heard. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow when we start going through your production for the subpoena.”
“You can’t get it extended?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what are we paying you for?” He slammed down the phone, and she jumped.
Why were her clients giving in to the stress now? This behavior from both was out of character. She rubbed her temples and then pulled the subpoena back in front of her. It didn’t matter how many times she read it, the words couldn’t be clearer.
Mnemosyne had to turn over the requested documents and information.
Late that afternoon, she got a call back from the agency’s attorney, and then relayed the message that her clients had until Friday. The government had graciously agreed to extend their deadline by one day. Rochelle objected, but Savannah told her to be at the office at eight in the morning with all the paper documentation they had. As soon as the code was clean, they’d walk through that too. These document requests were huge time drains that had to be managed well so the right documents and information were released without inadvertently sending items that were outside the scope of the subpoena.
Savannah left the office at six. Ready or not, it was time to check on Stasi and Addy and then maybe relax a bit.
She called and Addy informed her she’d already placed the to-go order for their supper. Savannah was to stop and pick up Mexican from their favorite hole-in-the-wall on her way.
“Please.” Addy’s assured tone communicated she knew Savannah would do whatever she asked. “It’ll be ready at six thirty.”
“Really?” Savannah couldn’t help smiling at her niece’s pleased tone. “Why did you pick that time?”
“Because you said you’d check on us right after work. I knew you thought that would be fiveish, but we’d be lucky if you left at six.”
The words stung. “Guess I get caught up in my work a lot, huh?”
“It’s okay, Aunt Savvy. You do important work. Besides, I’m used to waiting.”
Savannah rubbed over her heart where it felt like an arrow had zinged her. “You aren’t holding anything back.”
“And it won’t stop unless you add guacamole to the order. Mom said I couldn’t.”
Savannah chuckled. “Nothing like a little extortion.”
“But avocado is good for you.”
“So they say.”
“Please?”
“All right. Avocados are good fat.”
Twenty minutes later Savannah ordered guacamole and settled in to wait at the bustling restaurant. Despite Addy’s valiant effort to order ahead, the food hadn’t been ready when she arrived. She enjoyed a Coke while she scrolled through her Instagram feed. She really needed to add some shots of Rhett, but that would require her to catch her shelter kitty doing something adorable, which necessitated being home. She inhaled the aroma of spicy food and listened to a soundtrack of “Feliz Navidad,” hustling servers, and happy patrons.
Fifteen minutes later she carried two bags of steaming food to her car, and it was still piping hot when she got to Addy and Stasi’s apartment. With her hands full, she leaned into the doorbell, and a minute later Addy opened the door. Her eyes had purple splotches underneath them as if she hadn’t slept well. Still, they lit up, whether at the sight of Savannah or the food, Savannah wasn’t sure.
Addy gave her a quick squeeze and then grabbed the bags. “I’ll put these on the table.”
“Thanks. Where’s your mom?”
“On the couch.” Addy said it with a where-else-would-she-be air.
Savannah stepped toward the couch and noted the heavy floral scent hanging in the air. A candle flickered next to the TV, lending ambiance to the space IKEA built. Savannah spotted Stasi crashed on the couch with a blanket their grandma had crocheted pulled over her shoulders, her eyes closed. The blanket signaled it had been a rough day for Stasi, but Savannah couldn’t wait for a good day for the conversation they needed to have. “Someday you have to get a job, sis.”
Stasi shifted, but didn’t open her eyes. “That’s why I’ve got you and Dustin.”
“That doesn’t leave me feeling used.”
“No need to be sarcastic.” Stasi stretched and sat up. “Am I smelling food? Took long enough.”
Savannah held back a hard response. “Addy ordered enough for a platoon.”
“Did not.” Addy’s voice came from the small galley kitchen. “I’m a teenage girl.”
“And that explains everything.” Stasi smiled. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, kiddo.”
“I know.” Addy leaned out of the kitchen with a smile before disappearing again.
“Humble too.” Stasi patted the couch next
to her. “Savannah, you have to quit worrying about us.”
Savannah eased next to her sister. “That’s not easy to do when I get calls like I did from Addy.” She hadn’t made time to call Stasi on it when they were at the hospital, but Stasi had to stabilize.
“She worries too much.”
“She shouldn’t have to think about whether you’re okay.” Savannah studied her sister, noted the wrinkles that feathered her face, a signal of a life lived hard. “You aren’t okay.”
“The doctors aren’t helping manage my pain.” It was an old story about how she’d never recovered from a back injury at work.
“But you can’t self-medicate at the expense of your daughter.”
“Don’t forget I’m the mother. You chose not to have kids.” The words hit. Hard. “All that matters is she’ll always be fine.”
“What does that mean?” Stasi wasn’t making sense.
“Dustin has a life insurance policy on each of us for Addy’s benefit. He might not have married me, but he’s made sure she’ll be all right.”
“That’s a morbid thought.”
Stasi rolled her eyes. “You should be happy, Miss Risk Adverse Attorney.”
“I will be when you start acting like the mother Addy deserves.”
“We aren’t all perfect. Oh, wait. You aren’t either or you wouldn’t have chased Dustin off. Then Addy would be yours instead of mine.” The I-won tone made Savannah want to walk out and leave.
Addy stepped out of the kitchen precariously carrying three glasses of water. Savannah watched her, heart aching.
“Have you heard from Dustin today? Is he out of the hospital?” She wished she could reclaim the words the moment she spoke them.
Stasi stayed quiet, but Addy shrugged her thin shoulders. “Not today.”
“That must mean he’s fine.”
Addy put napkins on the table as if it was no big deal that her dad had survived a plane crash and hadn’t called, but Savannah knew how much the girl wanted time with him. The man wasn’t perfect, but he was her dad.
“Let’s eat while it’s still hot.”
Stasi waved her away. “I’ll join you in a bit.”
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