“Ms. Conti,” she says, as if we’ve all been speaking already and she’s simply catching us up. “Good afternoon. This is Investigator Chen. She’ll be sitting in to witness and document the protective-order advisement.”
The investigator nods once. “Ms. Conti,” she says to Caterina, but doesn’t say anything else or acknowledge anyone else.
Elena looks at Roberto. “Mr. Conti.”
“Ms. Pennino,” Roberto replies in his Sunday voice. He could preach a congregation into singing with that tone. “I need a pass as well. I’ll be joining my client.”
“Not for this,” she says. “Caterina is welcome to an attorney, but it cannot be you. This is merely a protective order advisement, not an interview. The order contemplates direct advisement to the potential witness alone. We’ll be quick.”
Roberto looks like he’s going to protest for a moment, but decides against it and just nods.
All part of the tactic to make it seem like he doesn’t know as much as he really does. Make them underestimate us.
She turns to me last and gives me exactly the amount of acknowledgment a woman in her position should give a man in mine: a polite nod. “Mr. Conti.”
“Counselor,” I say. Mild. Nothing more. I keep my hands out of my pockets because men put their hands in their pockets when they want to look harmless. I don’t do theater.
Up close, her eyes are as dangerous as they were yesterday. That deep blue that looks like it can see right through me. She holdsmine for one beat and moves on. It surprises me again, the impact of her presence. The effect it has on me.
Put it in a box, Luca. This isn’t the time, the place, or the person.
But it’s not as easy as that. I haven’t had to try very hard, or at all, to shove my attraction into a box in a long time. I have to. So I do.
The lid on that box does not fit very well.
“Ms. Conti,” Elena says, turning back to my daughter and breaking whatever it is we had between us. “We’ll go upstairs to the conference room. We’ll go over the order, make sure you understand boundaries, answer questions, and you’ll be out of here.”
Caterina nods. “Fine.”
Her voice is steady, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t have to. She knows I’m right where I said I would be.
That’s what being blood means.
Elena throws one last line over her shoulder. “We won’t be long, but if you’re looking for somewhere more comfortable to wait, the coffee shop across the street makes a pretty good latte.”
Elena gestures Caterina ahead of her. Chen takes the flank. A guard at the elevator taps a code into the pad on the wall, and the doors open.
Caterina gives me the smallest glance back before turning and walking into the elevator, exuding confidence.
I turn back to Roberto, amused. “Shall we go get a ‘pretty good latte’?”
Roberto laughs. “Yeah, let’s go see what Miss Counselor considers good.”
The bell over the café door gives a little ring. Warm air greets us, and the smell of espresso, vanilla, sugary confections wafts around us. Big windows open onto the street and give us a perfect view of the prosecutor’s office.
We join the line. Roberto slips the briefcase to his left hand so his right is free, the reflex of a man who’s used to shaking hands. I shift so I can see both doors—the one in the front and the one next to the restrooms on the back wall.
There are four people ahead of us: a contractor in neon stripes, a kid with the eyes of someone in the middle of exam week, and a man I clock as a public defender.
A woman in scrubs, balancing five coffee cups, walks away from the counter.
Behind the counter is a girl in her early twenties with a blond ponytail and a name tag that says LEXI in cheerful ink. She’s reading names off the cup cheerfully, which tells me she hasn’t been doing this job that long.
Unlike the boy behind the counter pouring drinks into cups like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Finally, our turn.
Lexi smiles and straightens her shoulders. “Hi! What can I get started for you?”
