Tempest - Kris Michaels Page 0,17

one of the 'donors' who’d had his entire fortune routed to the Grantham-Hughes Foundation ended with the promise of lawsuits and investigations. They'd been threatened before, yet nothing had ever gotten to court.

Carol picked up several slips of pink paper. "Your messages."

"Yeah, thanks. Hey, I need you to do me a favor. Make sure I'm not disturbed. I have CLE I need to catch up on."

"Do you want me to interrupt if the discovery on the Rayford claim comes in?"

"I'll grab it after I come back from lunch. I'm going to try to slog away at these local government lectures and get them done."

"All right. I'll hold the discovery with the information on your next pro bono case." Carol nodded to a thin folder in her out box.

"That's a pro bono file? When was it referred?"

"The day before yesterday."

"Okay. You'll probably have to do some leg work on this one. Sorry, in advance."

"No worries, I like job security," Carol said absently and focused on her computer.

Pilar went into her office and scanned the messages. Nothing important, as usual. She started her computer and shoved one of the DVDs into the slot, turning the sound off, but putting her earbuds in. If Carol walked in, her secretary would assume she was listening to the lectures even though she wasn't.

She grabbed her day planner and started leafing back through the calendar. Carol hated the fact she kept a paper planner, probably because she couldn't control what went into it. The planner stayed with her always. She wrote in shorthand and no one could decipher her writing. There were twenty-seven 'donations' which she'd been part of since she became her mother's lawyer. Twenty-seven families who'd lost everything when the head of the family died.

Last year she'd started backtracking and compiling how the people died. Vehicle and pedestrian accidents, suicides, three breaking and enterings, and several accidental electrocutions. Not one of the 'donors' passed from natural causes. It didn't take a rocket scientist to determine these people were being killed. With the absolute lack of follow through from the families after they threatened court action, she suspected even more foul play. The names and contact numbers were all logged. She had to find a way to contact them and determine if her beliefs held a grain of truth. Her gut told her they did.

She'd transcribed last year's notes in this binder. The planner started in July and the effort tallied up to fifty plus handwritten pages. She had substantial evidence. Embezzlement was a slam dunk. Intimidation and witness tampering? Yeah, those were almost guaranteed, but there was a darker truth which ran through the threads of these cases. She leafed through her notes and shook her head. She needed to ascertain what her next step was going to be.

"Let's talk about expectations." Remi Wheeler glanced up from the papers in his folder. The doctor traveled to Arizona once a quarter now to conduct sessions in person. He was two months early. Obviously, this was his evaluation. The one he'd been waiting for.

"Yours or mine?" Tempest’s eyes rose, and he pegged the doctor with a stare.

"Both. We'll start with yours. What exactly do you expect to happen when you've been given a Go?"

He leaned back in his chair. He knew exactly what he wanted to happen. The question was, did he tell his shrink the truth, knowing it would be relayed back to the people in charge? He shrugged and kept his mouth shut while he worked through the scenario in his head. To be honest, it really didn't matter if Guardian approved of his plans. He was going to track down the people who'd held him and kill them.

"When you give me a Go, I'm going after the Fates."

"What if Guardian doesn't want you to?" The doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. The heavy soled combat boots he wore were another anomaly which made up the biker-slash-doctor. Doc Wheeler was nervous today. The pen in his hand clicked in a repetitive sound which shattered the silence of the room.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and stared at the doctor and then intentionally moved his gaze to the pen. The doctor froze his thumb on the downward strike. He brought the pen up and looked at it before he set it down on the side table next to his chair. "My apologies."

He stared at the doctor. "Why are you nervous?"

Remi drew a large breath and released it before he answered.