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The cast to his face became so dark, it changed the color of his eyes from platinum to storm cloud. “Don’t toy with me, little girl.”
“Oh, I’m not toying with you. I ended up in the emergency room and needed X-rays because your employee attacked me. What kind of headline is that going to make? Tell me, how much confidence do you think your blue-chip clients are going to have in your father’s”—she pointed to the oil painting—“firm after they learn a violent man with no relevant law experience was playing paralegal on their cases?”
“Our clients are very satisfied with our attorneys,” the man snapped. “And they don’t know you at all.”
“They don’t have to know me. All they’ll have to do is read the papers or watch the news. I’m just a little girl, right? Well, nobody likes it when people hurt little girls, even if they think we’re stupid and can’t take care of ourselves.” She shook her head. “Trust me, you and your firm don’t need this public relations nightmare, and it is going to be one. I’ll make sure of it.”
There was a long pause. Then the man sat back in his chair and smoothed his dark red tie over his bright white button-down shirt. As his hand made the pass over the silk, a gold cuff link flashed.
“Extortion is a federal crime, Miss Wurster.”
“This is not extortion. You made me an offer first. This is a negotiation, and the implications of negative press are your reality, not a threat I’m making.”
The smile that came back at her made a blizzard look warm and inviting. “You’d do well not to try to school me in my area of expertise. And in light of this conversation, I’m not giving you a dime. What I will do is make sure you never get a job in this town again—”
“Bruce McDonaldson killed Charlie Byrnes.” Anne refused to let the tears that surged fall. “And I went down to CPD headquarters and met with a homicide detective just to make sure the authorities know this. The news will be coming out soon. Tick tock. Better practice what you’re going to say to your clients in front of the mirror in that private bathroom of yours.”
Surely some bluffing was allowed, she thought. And what do you know, when she really needed one, she had a poker face.
As the man on the other side of the desk got very, very quiet, she thought about Bruce… and what he had become. How he had “died.” She’d tried not to dwell on any part of that over the weekend—and sure enough, her brain instantly began to overload with all the panic and confusion she’d suppressed.
Forcing herself to refocus, she kept her voice level. “Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Thurston. Right now. And then you won’t have to worry about that ugly murder stuff being compounded with what happened to me. Isn’t that going to be a relief considering how much is going to be on your plate? Phew. Wow, soooo much better.”
There was another long pause. “I don’t have some checkbook, you know. I can’t just get a pen and—”
“You’re the senior partner of this law firm. Call someone and have them bring a money order to you.” Glancing behind herself, she went over to the sofa and sat down. “I’ll wait.”
* * *
It was three o’clock by the time Anne arrived back at her house, and as she got out of the cab she’d taken from downtown, she had a number of bags to carry inside. The driver helped her, and she tipped him ten whole dollars.
While he drove off, she shut herself inside, locked the dead bolt, and inspected what she’d bought: Two suitcases. Some fresh clothes and underwear. A new purse. A camera.
She didn’t know how long she was going to be gone. Where she was going to go. Whether she would even come back.
Well, she supposed she had to return at some point to deal with the house. But she’d worry about that later.
Up in her bedroom, she got her toiletries together, and avoided looking at the bed. She’d stripped the sheets and thrown them in the laundry the night Darius had left—and as the memory of him was easily called to mind, she took note that she hadn’t been erased.
Or whatever they referred to it as.
Over the weekend, she’d expected them to return and do the duty on her—and still did. The only thing she had to go on was that as of right now, she could still recall everything: from the car accident, to the ER visit, to… all the things that had happened afterward.
This was the other reason she wanted to get out of town.
Even though it was incredibly painful to think about Darius, she was still resolved when it came to not wanting to be robbed of her recollections of him. She’d come to view the slideshow of images as her punishment for trusting another stranger after one had just lied to her.
