I don’t look up from the brief. Let her stand there. Let her wonder.
“We finished the Hartwell briefs at seven.” She steps into the office. Arms crossed. “Why am I still here?”
“Consider it your reprimand.”
“My what?”
“For your little excursion that day. Did you think that was forgotten?”
“Didn’t I already go through that? The whole filing backlog thing with Marcy?”
“I never specified that was the reprimand.” I gesture to the chair across from me. “Sit. We’re going to review the Martinez case.”
“The Martinez case was filed yesterday.”
“The Martinez case still has loose ends. Three of his associates are staring down assault charges, and if this isn’t handled cleanly, the whole thing turns into a problem I don’t have time for.” I slide a folder across the desk. “I need a legal strategy that keeps them out of prison without creating additional exposure. You’re going to help me find one.”
“Can’t you just handle it yourself? Make a call?”
“If it were that simple, you’d be home by now.” I lean back. “Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to milk that waitress situation and torment poor Harrison for another decade. Theman sweats through his robes every time my name appears on his docket. It’s genuinely entertaining.”
“But?”
“But this one’s different. There’s a fed involved. A real one — some ambitious prosecutor out of the Southern District who’s decided Antonio Martinez is going to be his career-making case.” I tap the folder. “And Antonio, in his infinite wisdom, is in a position where if he goes down, he takes half the guys in our circle with him. Contracts, accounts, names—all of it sitting in files that this prosecutor would very much like to get his hands on.”
“A federal prosecutor,” she says. “So, the guy trying to put criminals in prison?—”
“Is the one making my life difficult. Yes.”
She doesn’t respond. But I watch her absorb it—the realization that she’s sitting on the wrong side of every story she’s ever been told about justice.
“You look like someone just told you Santa Claus drowns puppies in his free time.”
“I’m processing.”
“Process faster. We have work to do.” I shrug. “For what it’s worth, making Antonio disappear would solve ninety percent of my problems right now. Solve the whole thing in one evening. One phone call, one shallow grave, half the city breathes easier.” I tap the folder. “Unfortunately, killing clients tends to tank your Yelp score. Ruins the brand.”
She doesn’t laugh. I didn’t expect her to, and yet, I’m still slightly disappointed.
“You want me to help cover up assault.”
“I want you to assist. It’s in the job title.”
“I didn’t sign up to be an accessory to?—”
“You signed up the moment you didn’t cross that street.” I hold her gaze. “Now sit down.”
She sits. Reluctantly, spine rigid with protest, but she sits.
She opens the folder, scans the first page. Her expression shifts to disgust, but it’s quickly controlled.
“This is...”
“Unpleasant. Yes. The legal system is full of unpleasant things dressed up in nice language.” I stand and walk to the closet in the corner of my office. “Speaking of nice things.”
I pull out a garment bag and set it on the desk between us.
“What’s that?”
