Fits in with the rest of this week, then.
For one thing, there was the embossed brass plaque outside that read FOR ALL YOUR EVER-SHIFTING LEGAL NEEDS. It didn’t sound quite like any law firm slogan he’d ever heard before, and the plaque made it seem so ... serious.
And while Case had seen plenty of buildings with stern stone lions guarding the door, this was the first one he’d visited that had amismatchedset of stone animals, with a griffin on one side and a dragon on the other. Case considered them, decided he liked them too, and gave each stone head a pat before he headed inside.
The reception desk and its routine were more standard—at least up until the cheerful receptionist who checked him in issued him a blue sticker and told him to put it on his jacket lapel.
“What’s it for?” he said, planting it where she’d told him to.
“It’s a color-coding system we use to mark what kind of client you are.”
Like the defendant in a criminal trial vs. one plaintiff among many in a class-action suit vs. whatever the hell he was here for, Case decided. He guessed it sort of made sense, but he didn’t see why it was all that necessary. Lydia’s lawyer—some guy named Declan Harris—already knew what he was doing here, and thepeople Case might happen to pass in the hall wouldn’t care, would they?
He didn’t have much time to think about it, because Declan came out right away to show Case back into his office.
Declan looked unaccountably nervous for a guy on his own home turf. Maybe the blue sticker marked Case as trouble? But he couldn’t see why it would.
Case was getting more curious by the second, so once they got settled in, he turned down Declan’s offer of coffee or water and asked if they could get straight into it.
Declan got a pained look on his face, but he nodded. He had the awkward, fumbling vibe of a last-minute substitute teacher in a sex ed class.
“First—did Lydia mention this?—I need you to sign an NDA.”
That was also weird, but it was at least something Case had done before. If you worked enough construction jobs, sooner or later you came across a couple building a sex dungeon who understandably wanted to make sure you’d mind your own business about it. That was the one job peoplelikedgetting an out-of-towner for.
Case took the time to read the agreement over, although he was probably guilty of skimming a little bit because the need to know what the hell was going on was really getting to him by now. Most of it was standard boilerplate confidentiality agreement, anyway. Whether he proceeded in any kind of contractual relationship with Turner Lowe or its client, Lydia Vasquez, he was not to reveal anything he learned from this, either publicly or privately, unless it fell into the falling exempt categories ... and so on and so on.
What’s going on in your life, Lydia?Case thought as he signed on the dotted line.Who’s bothering you?
Somehow, being this close to finding out made him want to know more than ever.
“Thank you,” Declan said, retrieving the NDA from him. “I appreciate your discretion. And, of course, your willingness to jump through all these hoops with very little to go on.”
“Hopefully I’ll have more to go on now,” Case said pointedly.
“You will.”
Case waited.
Declan said, “How do you feel about werewolves?”
Case waited some more, because Declan’s question had made so little sense that at first he almost thought he’d imagined it.
It took a moment for him to accept that no, he really hadn’t. Even then, he didn’t remotely know what to make of it, but he tried to answer honestly. Maybe it was some kind of bizarre psychological test.
“I always liked them better than vampires. It’s one of those this-or-that questions people ask sometimes, you know, like ‘The Beatles or The Rolling Stones’ or ‘cake or pie.’ I always went with werewolves.”
“On a scale of one to ten—one being rejecting the possibility completely and ten being completely fine with it—how comfortable would you be with becoming a werewolf?”
“Um,” Case said. “Seven, maybe? Declan, whatever this is, I don’t get it.”
Declan sighed. “No, of course you don’t. I’m doing this all wrong. Actually, I think I won’t do it at all. I had you sign the NDA—that’s the important thing.” Before Case could ask him what he meant by that, Declan picked up his office phone and dialed out. “Lydia? Could you come over and tell Mr. Jackson exactly what’s going on? –Yes, he signed it. –Well, Ihaven’tdone it before. It almost never comes up! Fine. Thank you.”
He hung up and turned back to Case.
“She’ll be here in a few minutes, and she can explain everything.”
The relief in his voice was unmistakable.
