for Aaron to put in the system and be digital.” My statement is practically robotic if not for the dismissive tone.
Crossing her arms, Claire leans back, one heel up and braced against the closed door. “Shaw is clumsy and Tanner struggles to read the jury.”
The huff that comes from my lips brings a smirk with it when she adds, “They’re too green and I want a string of cases to go our way. I might’ve managed an article with the Journal but it’s on hold until we have a series of verdicts go our way.”
“Running defense?” I question her, hating that she spent any time at all to combat the article that ran last week.
“I’m doing what has to be done. We need you in there.”
Silence weighs heavy on my shoulders. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without preparing to go before a judge. I haven’t even gone to Bar 44 or seen anyone other than Aaron and Claire since the article hit.
“Everyone goes through it,” Claire speaks up as if reading my mind. “Shake it off and meet me in the boardroom. I’m not giving this case to one of them to fuck up. Nail it and we’ll ring it out for all it’s worth. As far as I’m concerned, the investigation has been conducted and we found nothing.”
“What are we looking at? Case wise?”
“Double homicide,” she says. Her answer is spoken easily enough and with the glimmer of a challenge in her eyes, a fire lights inside of me.
This is why I do what I do. I put the bad men behind bars. Some people claim we’re only here to show the evidence. That there’s no desire or intention to punish.
Fuck that.
“You need this,” Claire claims and I nod.
“I need it more than you know.” I let the truth slip out firmer than I would have liked.
“How’s your mother?” Her question comes with an assumption that I need the case as a distraction. She’s not wrong.
“She’ll be all right. Just tumbled down the stairs and hurt herself pretty bad.” Even to my own ears, the statement is spoken without any emotion. Inside, turmoil spreads, disgust even because I don’t tell her what I really think. Sucking in a breath and letting it out in one go, I stare down at my boss in her typical professional attire and tell her I’ll be there, abruptly ending the conversation.
I’m busy making sure I put the files back in the correct boxes and email an update to those who need it when Cody messages me.
I need you tonight.
That’s when I see the message I never sent him, still waiting: I need to see you.
I change it to: I want to see you too, but I have a lot of work and probably won’t go to Bar 44.
Even though the three moving bubbles make me aware that he’s writing something in response, I quickly add: But I need you too. There’s a vulnerability I don’t like in my words, so I lighten it by adding a joke: Come to my place? Make it a quickie?
I can’t explain why I feel sick to my stomach over it. Or why unease spreads through me until he responds, It’s a date.
Delilah
“I heard you might be leaving town for a while.” My voice carries a purr to it as the bottle of beer hits the high-top table. It’s nearly 2:00 a.m. and the bar’s clearing out.
A week of normalcy does wonders. No one’s brought up the article and as far as I’m concerned, it never existed.
“Bad news travels fast, doesn’t it?” Cody’s formerly charming expression dims under the bar lights. Office, trial, Bar 44, and bed with Cody. Every day on repeat.
“I thought you were going home?”
“I am,” he answers, tipping back his drink.
“Going home is bad for you?” The disbelief in my voice makes me feel like a hypocrite and Cody’s amused expression displays the sentiment.
“I don’t really have a home anymore. And I never liked that town to begin with.”
There’s something sobering I didn’t know about Cody. It’s easy to get along with the man, easier to get in bed with him. But getting information out of him is something far more difficult. I consult my wineglass, giving him a moment before questioning more. “Your parents?”
“They passed when I was younger. I went to live with my uncle who never wanted kids and he has dementia now.” He shrugs, but nothing he said is casual in the least.