Chapter Eight
Jericho
When Mr. Rose arrived at two-fifteen, I was pissed that he was late. I was also ready to sit on Sean to stop him from pacing. He was wearing a path in the cheap Masonite tile in the police station and getting on my last damn nerve.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick, I’m sorry I’m late. I was—”
Sean cut him off. “I don’t give a damn where you were. If I’m going to be your client, I come first.”
Damn, that was harsh.
Mr. Rose’s face morphed instantly from cordial to angry. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, it remains to be seen if I’ll be your attorney. Spencer Brady contacted me and asked me to meet with you as a favor to him. Currently, I’m not accepting new clients.”
Oh, is someone saying no to Sean Fitzpatrick?I wish I had popcorn for this.
I’d been the one to tell Sean to take control of the situation, but that didn’t mean he could shit on everyone else in the process. It seemed as if it were his first instinct.
“I see your attorney is here. If you’ll follow me, we’ve got everything set up in an interrogation room.” I started to follow, but Compton turned to me. “He won’t need a bodyguard in a police station. Take a seat.”
Sean handed me his phone. “Call Representative Chu and tell her I’m sorry I missed our lunch and ask when she can reschedule, please. I should have called her in the car.”
“Are you sure you wantmeto do this?” It seemed like something he needed to do himself. I didn’t even know how to speak with a member of Congress.
“Yes, please. The passcode is”—he leaned closer to whisper—“7326. Thank you.”
Sean then followed Compton down a hallway with Mr. Rose trailing behind, still pissed based on the look on his face. I took a seat on a nearby chair and opened Sean’s phone, then went to his contacts.
I found the number for Representative Chu, but it wasn’t a DC area code, so I guessed it was her personal cell phone. I hit the icon and stood, walking to a quieter part of the police station.
“Sean, I’ve been waiting thirty minutes for your surly ass to show up.” The representative didn’t sound happy.
“Representative Chu, this is Mr. Fitzpatrick’s security officer. He’s sorry to say he won’t be able to make your lunch date. He’s tied up in a meeting and sends his regrets. He asked if you’d be willing to reschedule?”
“What’s your name, security officer?” She had a playful tone in her voice that put me on guard.
“Hess, ma’am.” The less I said, the better, I was sure.
“Mr. Hess, tell Sean he’ll want to talk to me today. The vote is scheduled for Thursday, and I believe there’s a chance to turn the tide.”
“Got it, ma’am. Turn the tide.” She ended the call without saying another word.
I had no idea which vote she was referring to, nor did I know which tide needed to be turned, but I was sure it would make sense to Sean—if I could get the message to him while it was still useful information.
One hour into my sit-in at the police station, Sean’s phone chimed with a text message. I debated looking at it to see if it was important. It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what Sean might think was important.
I highly doubted he’d think a text from his parents was important, based on what he’d told me the previous day. But maybe he would if they called to announce bad news. Though, texting him bad news would be a shitty thing to do.
After stewing for fifteen minutes, I finally pulled the phone from my jacket pocket and unlocked the screen, seeing a message from Spencer.
Sean, I got a call from Mei-Lyn Chu that you couldn’t make the meeting. I’ll go meet with her. She says there’s room for movement on the R’s trans agenda. The debate and vote are set for Thursday. I know you’re with the police right now. Call me when you finish.
I glanced up in time to see Sean hurrying down an opposite hall from where I was sitting. Everyone in the large open room where the officers were stationed at desks stopped what they were doing to watch Sean sprint to the men’s room. Mr. Rose and Detective Compton walked toward me, both speaking quietly.
I stood from the chair and hurried around the corner to the men’s room, pulling the door open and rushing inside. “Sean?”
I heard someone throwing up in one of the stalls, so I bent to look under the door to see my protectee on the floor on his knees. “Sean, are you okay?”
“Jeri?”
