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Bernadette is up in her bedroom.
Ash is gone.
I planned to come here and fuck them both, now neither of them is talking to me.
BERNADETTE LEFT ATseven a.m., and I can’t bear the emptiness in my apartment.
I do my workout and then head to the office.
Nick, my best investigator, enters with Kinsey’s thick file. Dropping it on my desk, he rasps with that cigarette voice of his, “Nothing here, Montgomery.”
“That’s impossible.” My spine goes to rubber. “The cops always screw up.”
I grab the folder and read the reports. NYPD cops train like warriors. They had to have busted a head or two.
“Body cam footage?” I ask.
Nick takes out his phone, and after a few clicks, puts it in front of me.
It’s an excruciating thirty minutes, but Nick is right. The one fucking time they did things by the book.
“He needs to plea,” Nick says, taking a seat.
“He won’t.” I’m sure Michael Kinsey will fire me if I suggest it again.
And never return those designs just to fuck Bernadette over. They mean nothing to him.
Or do they?
With this evidence against him, my firm won’t fault me for losing a client. But I won’t get my revenge on Pratt Sterling.
I’ll lose if I keep the case, given what I know.
“Do we know who called in the noise complaint?” I hand Nick back his phone.
“They keep that shit private.” Nick shakes his head.
My gut tells me that’s the key.
“Let’s go through what we know.” I stand up and face the window, looking at the Hudson River. “Bernadette and Kinsey aren’t getting along, and she goes away for a weekend out east with a friend, leaving that laptop and the designs behind.” Pacing, Igo on. “She gets home on Sunday night and finds him doing drugs with a group of guys.”
“Sounded like he didn’t care if he got caught.” Nick tents his fingers.
“For some women, drugs aren’t a deal-breaker.” I hate that I don’t know if she’d care if she loved the guy. “He was supporting her. Letting her work on her designs.”
He didn’t care if he got caught.
Nick’s words sink in.
“Caught by who?” I sit in a winged-back chair near the window, staring at a swirl of gray angry clouds, typical for fall in New York.
“Right.” Nick tilts his head. “Caughtby who?”
I move back to my desk and rifle through the reports. Everyone at the party was taken in for questioning.
Everyone.
Who were thesefriends?
