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She took a folder from her purse and set it in front of me. “My parents taught me how to research someone’s background very, very well. That’s the one thing I can credit them for.” She flipped a few pages. “Your client has school records from his childhood—test scores, address changes, et cetera. There’s a record of where he attended college, grad school—even a record of the time he broke into his school’s firewall and got suspended for an entire semester. After that, there’s a short failed marriage to some woman he met in Cabo, and a few founding records for his company. But after that—with the exception of these recent allegations, there’s nothing.”
I glanced at the pages.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?” She looked at me. “How you can google someone and nothing about them pops up? How you can search several databases for information and find entire decades are missing?”
I shut the folder. “It’s slightly odd.”
“Slightly?”
“Yes. Slightly. Is this all the evidence you have?”
“It’s all the evidence you need.” She stared into my eyes. “Find the guy who erased him, or find the guy who erased you and you might have yourself another win under your belt. If not—”
“Aubrey...”
“People don’t just come out of nowhere, Andrew,” she said. “You know that, I know that, and I’m pretty sure your client knows that.”
“Now we’re talking about the client?”
“There is no record of Andrew Hamilton in any of state’s registered lawyer databases.”
“I’m not facing a trial.”
“I called every law school in the state and pretended to be an alumna searching for a fellow alum and there was no record of an Andrew Hamilton getting his degree from any of them.”
“Are you that obsessed with me?” He smirked.
“I did the same thing for the law schools in New York. That was a bit trickier, but the results were just the same. There was no record of you going to school during the years you would’ve been in attendance.”
>“Light, airy, elegant—”
“Elegant!” He stomped his foot again. “The white swan is all about smooth, gentle movements... Her arms are well poised, graceful.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward. “Your arms are erratic, rough, and you’re dancing like a pigeon on crack!”
Her cheeks reddened, but he continued.
“I want a swan, Miss Everhart, and if you’re not up to the part—if your heart is elsewhere, like that other major you have, do me favor and let me know so I can groom someone else for the role.”
Silence.
“Let’s try this again!” He stepped back. “On my count, start the song from the second stanza...”
I leaned back against the wall, watching Aubrey effortlessly dance again and make everyone else look like amateurs. I watched until I couldn’t watch anymore, until her old director spotted my shadow and yelled at “the goddamn intruder” to leave.
***
Later that night, I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of bourbon,—pouring myself a shot. It was two in the morning and I was beyond restless.
I hadn’t been able to sleep since I came home and spotted a note from Ava on my door: “I’m not leaving until we talk—Ava.”
I’d balled it up and thrown it into the trash, wondering which person at GBH had been stupid enough to give out my address.
As I tossed back a shot, my phone rang.
“It’s two in the morning,” I hissed, holding it up to my ear.
“Um...” There was a slight pause. “May I speak to a...A Mr. Hamilton, please?”
“This is he. Did you not hear me say what time it is?”
