“Convicted Knox.” The name hung between us like a blade.
Blake went rigid. Knox’s case had been back in our college days, but the scars ran deep. “Jesus. That was him?”
“Convinced Knox it was his only way to …” I stopped short, unwilling to share what Knox had told me in professional confidence. Attorney-client privilege didn’t expire just because your client became your brother in everything but blood.
Blake digested this. “So, he’s been in the same role this whole time? Don’t most people move up or on by then?”
“He enjoys the power too much.” I kept my voice steady, professional, even as my pulse kicked up a notch. “Gets to wield it without the pressure of being the elected DA or state’s attorney. From what I’ve gathered, he’s in the pocket of a lot of powerful people. Plus, why move up when you can stay where the real action is? Where you get to personally destroy lives, one cross-examination at a time?”
“Why would he care about this case?”
Good question. Faith’s situation was messy, sure, but not high-profile enough to warrant the ADA himself showing up at—I checked my watch—11:47 p.m. Unless someone called in a favor. Unless someone powerful wanted Faith buried and they knew exactly which prosecutor would guarantee it.
“I don’t know. But he’s ruthless. And he doesn’t show up at hospitals at midnight without a reason.”
He must know something we don’t.
Wolfe’s eyes found mine across the corridor, and his lips curved into a smile that would make a great white jealous.
“Ryker Kincaid.” My name rolled off his tongue like he was savoring expensive wine. Coming closer, he buttoned his jacket with the kind of theatrical precision that belonged in a courtroom,not a hospital hallway. “Don’t tell me you’re defending the killer.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Sorry, Counselor. Seems you’ve forgotten the wordsallegedandsuspected. But then again, you’ve always had trouble with those distinctions, haven’t you?”
“Right.” His smirk widened, revealing teeth that had definitely been professionally whitened. “My mistake. So, you’re defending theallegedandhighlysuspected killer.” He took a step closer, invading the space between us. “This should be fun. It’s been what, two years since I absolutely demolished you in court? The Reeves case, wasn’t it? You practically ran out of the courtroom.”
My fingers itched to punch that smirk off his face. “You mean the case where your key witness suddenly ‘remembered’ crucial details after meeting with you privately? Details that contradicted his original statement?”
“Memories can be funny things.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Especially when properly … refreshed.”
Blake shifted beside me, his tension radiating like heat. The antiseptic sting of the hospital corridor faded behind the overpowering stench of Wolfe’s scent. Which was deliberately overpowering. The kind of fragrance that announced him before he entered a room and lingered long after he left, as if even the air had to remember who was in charge.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone level, professional. Never let them see you sweat. First rule of criminal law.
“Did you see the crime scene?” Wolfe’s grin turned positively gleeful, like a kid who’d found where his parents hid the Christmas presents. “Quite the bloodbath.”
I had seen it. And I’d made damn sure to watch every step of the evidence collection, noting what they bagged, what they photographed, what they might have missed. If Wolfe thought he was the only one paying attention tonight, he was in for a surprise.
“It’s awfully late for the assistant district attorney to come allthe way down to a hospital. Especially when visiting hours ended hours ago.”
He waved a manicured hand dismissively. “Yes, well, these jobs do require a lot of us, don’t they? Though I suppose you’re discovering that with your … what is it now? Your new little law firm?” His eyes glinted with malice. “I thought you only took on innocent clients. Isn’t that your whole business model? Won’t it crumble before it even starts if you take on a guilty person?”
God, how satisfying would it be to punch him in his smug face?
“You’ve already been assigned this case?” I asked instead, ignoring the jab.
“Oh, I volunteered for this one.” The pleasure in his voice made my skin crawl.
“Really? Why is that?”
He shrugged, the gesture somehow making his suit jacket fall perfectly back into place. Guy probably practiced that move in the mirror. “What can I say? Sometimes, I love a good slam dunk. Especially when I get to humiliate you in the process. Again.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Police officers told me she was covered in blood and holding the murder weapon.” He practically purred the words.
“Suspected weapon,” I corrected, not bothering to hide my irritation. “And again, a full investigation has to be completed. So, I’m sure you know how dangerous it is to throw around words likemurder weaponandkillerwhen we don’t know what happened.”
A nurse wheeled a cart past us, giving us all a wide berth. Smart woman.
