“He doesn’t work for this family anymore, Scarlett,” he says. “Perhaps I can help you with this ‘personal’ thing?”
“Yeah, um…” I stop pacing. “He mentioned that I left some really important notes in the town car, and I’m just now remembering.”
“Hmmm. Well, I’ll contact our new head of security and see if he remembers Francis saying something about that before he left us.”
“Is there a chance that Francis will come back someday?”
“I doubt it,” he says. “That’d be almost supernatural for him to do.”
I blink, certain I’ve misheard his words, but I know I haven’t.
“Anything else you need, Scarlett?”
“Yes, actually,” I say. “I wanted to know if I could sit in on your next meeting with your lawyer.”
“I’m afraid not,” he says. “It’s just boring tax things and accounting.”
“Oh. So, nothing criminal?” I’m pushing my luck and I know it. “It’s just light things?”
“If you ever hear anything different, it’s a lie, Scarlett.” His voice is terse. “People lie about successful businessmen like me all the time. It’s exactly what I told you it is.”
I nod. He’s not as convincing of a liar as me, and I can’t believe it’s taken me all these years to see it.
“Okay. Thank you very much, Dad.”
“You’re very welcome, Scarlett.”
Neither of us hang up the phone, and I can hear my mother humming something in the background.
“Did Mom tell you we ran into each other in New York a few weeks back?” I ask.
“Yes.” He lets out a low laugh. “She called Harvard and asked them exactly where you’d be for your field study. I heard you two had a wonderful lunch.”
“Right.” I swallow. “Well, I have to go back to studying.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
I end the call with my emotions hanging by a thread, but I don’t dare dwell.
I open my closet, pull out all my suitcases, and head to where I should’ve gone when I first left Harvard…
CLOSING ARGUMENT (N.):
THE FINAL ARGUMENT BY AN ATTORNEY ON BEHALF OF HIS/HER CLIENT AFTER ALL EVIDENCE HAS BEEN PRODUCED FOR BOTH SIDES.
JAMESON
Several Weeks Later
Irefresh my inbox for the umpteenth time, waiting to see the apology I deserve from Scarlett, but she still hasn’t come to her senses.
Her highly inappropriate question—What would it take to make you drop my father’s case?—has infiltrated my brain all day, every day, and I can’t believe she had the audacity to even ask me that.
Even if her dad is a murderer…
“Here you are.” Rachel walks into my office and sets a stack of folders on the edge of my desk.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
