Jemma felt a brief flare of guilt as she noticed the whitened knuckle of Sam’s tightly clenched hands.
‘But removing yourself from the situation—in this case, Adelaide—is the only way you can make sure things won’t escalate,’ Sam said, her voice tremulous.
As Dad dropped a reassuring hand on his partner’s shoulder, Jemma threw her hands wide in an emphatic shrug. Just what did Sam expect from her? Jemma had promised herself long ago that she’d be the best at whatever she did. She would dress the best, perform the best, be paid the best. Never again would anyone get to laugh at her or judge her for factors beyond her control, because she wouldn’t allow anything to be beyond her control. Running away from this wasn’t an option.
She forced herself to soften her tone, though. ‘The practicality of working out-of-chambers depends on where I’m up to with my cases. I’ve got meetings with the briefing solicitors, clients, attendance in court. But if I’m elbow deep in research and paperwork, sure, I can do that remotely, providing I have access to the files.’ She rubbed her brow as she realised she was actually calculating how much time she could spend out of the office. Out of Adelaide. She was letting Sam get into her head; she couldn’t allow a handful of threatening notes to steal everything she had worked for.
Sam stood to refill their cups from the moka pot used to brew the strong coffee on the stovetop. ‘So that’s easy. When you need to be in the city, Pierce or I will come with you.’ Her tone was suddenly surprisingly resolute.
‘What?’
Sam shrugged. ‘It’s not ideal, and there might not be much safety in numbers, but it certainly can’t hurt to surround you with family. And friends,’ she added, her cheeks pinkening, as though second-guessing her intimation that she was family.
‘I’m not having both of you in danger!’ Dad slammed a hand on the table. ‘Jemma, this is ridiculous. I didn’t mind blowing off the insurance claim and paying for the damage, but I’m not prepared to risk your safety. Either of you. You have to go to the police.’
‘It’s not up to you, Pierce,’ Jemma fired back. ‘Besides, maybe the message wasn’t even directed at me. It’s not like I’m the most likely candidate in the family for a little retribution, is it?’ She was throwing Dante under the bus, but, hell, her uncle had been getting away with pretty well everything short of murder.
‘And the other two notes?’ Dad’s voice was tight.
‘Circumstantial evidence. Not worth the paper they’re written on.’ Her joke fell flat. ‘Look, I have a career, and caving to this random intimidation is exactly what Rohan needs to prove that I don’t have what it takes to make partner—’
‘Not everything is about your damn job!’
She startled as her father raised his voice, but quickly regained her composure. ‘Oh, but it is,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve studied and worked my whole life to get where I am.’
‘No, you did that to get into law, not to get where you are.’
She took a mouthful of water, then sipped her coffee. Although she’d happily drink the Australian way atwork—big cups, often left sitting on the side of her desk for hours—with family, she honoured the traditions: cleansing her palate with a small sip of water, then drinking the shot of coffee in no more than four savoured mouthfuls. Also, she needed to take the time to cultivate her response, before she really let fly.
‘I’ll do whatever I think is best. It’s my life, Pierce.’
‘It’s also your grandparents’ lives now, too, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
She almost dropped her cup.
‘When did you become so selfish that you lost sight of the fact that not everything is about you?’
‘Shh, Pierce,’ Sam soothed. She took the cup from Jemma’s nerveless hand. ‘Jemma, sometimes you can get so wrapped up in just trying to keep your head above water, it can take a while to realise that you might not be the only person affected. But perhaps Pierce is right, it would be best to take this to the police?’
Jemma’s lips were numb and her hands clammy. Uncle Dan had been—unsurprisingly—less than keen to get the authorities involved, and it had been easy to side with him, thinking only of how best to lessen any adverse career impact. And that made her no better than him. Dad was right: she couldn’t risk going anywhere near her grandparents—but for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what sheshoulddo.
She shook her head. ‘This just doesn’t make sense: I haven’tdoneanything.’
Sam gave a sad huff. ‘It doesn’t always have to be something that was your fault. But your dad’s right: until you decide how to tackle this, you need to stay here. You’ll be safe in Settlers Bridge.’
‘That was an absolute waste of time,’ Jemma muttered as she joined her father in the car a half-block from the city cop shop. She felt like a kid getting picked up after work experience. It wasn’t the police officer’s fault that the last hour had been pointless; the somewhat frustrated eye-rolling of the sergeant had reinforced her realisation that she was unable to provide them with any useful information, given that her suspicions about Mark Wilkins potentially fell under professional privilege, so couldn’t be revealed. ‘There’s no leads for them to investigate.’ She knew the vague report that she’d signed put Kain, her ex, in prime position as a person of interest, which was nothing short of ludicrous. In fact, perhaps she should call and warn him to expect a knock at his door? Or would that be considered hampering a police investigation?
‘Still, it had to be done,’ Dad said.
‘Again, pointless,’ she said, as though it was his fault.
‘Except perhaps the cops might patrol past the trattoria and your grandparents’ place more frequently?’ His cold anger was cutting.
‘I’ve asked them to—but I’ve just realised Uncle Dan’s going to have a heart attack every time they cruise by.’
Dad’s shoulders eased a little and the corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Win-win, then?’
‘Glad to see that at least you’re getting some value out of today’s embarrassment.’
