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I sigh. “I’ll know that you’re way more involved in my life than I’d like.”
“You’re working for her,” Poe points out. “Not the other way around.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to let her build the defense for me,” I say, annoyed. “Let me do my job. I do it well.”
The dank room this firm has stuffed me in suggests otherwise, so I feel compelled to add, “I was made partner at thirty-three.”
“Here?” Poe asks, glancing around at what is patently not a partner’s office.
“No,” I have to admit.
“The other place fire you?” he asks conversationally.
“He quit,” Josie says, staring at me. “Because he has more integrity than he’d like to believe.” She’s staring me down again, and maybe this is her real talent, but I don’t budge and I don’t look away. “He was grateful to marry Ruthie because that meant he wasn’t really lying to his boss.” She pauses, staring some more, staring until my eyes start to water, and then adds, “You didn’t want to really lie to Freeman, because he reminds you of him.”
And suddenly I’m frozen in my chair as if pinned by a phantom weight on my chest, my breath coming in fast puffs.
“You can text or email me,” she says. “We’ll send you a list of witnesses. You can talk to them, see what you think.”
Poe nods to her, and they rise from their chairs. Michael gives me a pointed glance, silently telling me to do what I know I must, but I can’t seem to get up or even say anything. So he offers to escort them out. He’s back what feels like seconds later. When he says my name, the ice is broken, and I shake my head as if waking from a dream.
“The boyfriend’s right,” Michael says. “I know I’m no lawyer, but I think this could work. It would definitely make headlines. Isn’t that what you want?”
He’s right, and he’s wrong.
I want to make headlines, but not for winning a case by arguing that the defendant is psychic.
Still, this is the defense she wants, and I wouldn’t put it past her to fire me in the courtroom if I attempt to do things my way. A public firing wouldn’t be a great look for my first case at Freeman & Daniels, or my dying career.
Besides, Michael has a point—it would attract attention if I won this case using that argument. It would be a mark of a lawyer who’s flexible enough to try something unconventional and good enough to pull it off. A lawyer like that could win anything.
I let out a sigh so deep it makes the pages in my notebook gust. “I guess we’re doing it. Shit. Who would’ve thought?”
The corners of Michael’s lips rise. “Her, maybe.” He pauses. “What did she mean earlier, when she said Freeman reminds you of him?”
“I don’t know what she meant,” I say slowly. I don’t intend to say more than that, but I find myself continuing anyway. Michael’s easy to talk to. It’s one of the reasons I hired him, so I can’t resent him for that quality now. “But something clicked when she said that. He reminds me of my father.”
He gives me a knowing look. “And your father’s dead.”
Is everyone around here psychic suddenly?
“Sorry,” he says, flinching. “I shouldn’t have said that. But you wouldn’t have frozen in your chair like that if he were alive. We were trained at the jewelry store to look out for emotional tells. It’s how you make a sale.”
I’d been taught to look out for them too. And trained never to give them. I feel like I’m cracking at the seams. Like all the things I’m supposed to hide are seeping out of me.
My phone buzzes, and I check it so I can have a moment to collect myself. It’s a message from Rachel, my old assistant from Myles & Lee.
The Burkes’ trial date has been set for April 19th.
That’s two and a half months from now. Add in a month for the trial, though it may well be less, and I’ll be here at Freeman & Daniels for at least three and half to four months.
I guess the Burkes and I are both facing down sentences.
Still, I don’t feel horrified by the prospect of being married to Ruthie for that long. If anything, it’s a relief. That should give her plenty of time to schedule Izzy’s surgery.
Then it hits me.
Motherfucker, I really did get big news this afternoon.
