“Since Scot is being tried federally, why not save the state taxpayers money and just let thefederalprosecutor deal with him?” It seemed unnecessary to have both federal and state investigations and trials.
“The case is related to Aidan Devlin’s, which is a state case. I want them both.”
Out of pure instinct, I settled into poker mode the second Nick said Aiden’s name. My expression smoothed out, and I forced myself to breath naturally. Then I watched him watch me for a reaction. The silence drew out until he stopped smiling and looked at me as if finally seeing me. With contemplation and something else. Something heated. Scalding hot. Interested.
“You let Devlin go free yesterday,” he said softly.
My chin lifted just enough to show he’d hit nerve. “There was nothing in the case file I received to argue otherwise.” Which was the absolute truth. “Do you have the complete case file?”
“Not yet.”
Well then. Ha.
He exhaled slowly. “Here’s the deal. You’re the only attorney here without a long-time connection with Scot. That makes you the only person I trust and the second chair on both cases. If you have a problem with that, speak up now.”
My mouth dried up. I’d won the match, but the war was in his hands, and we both knew it. He was talking about a felony case. A serious one. “I don’t even havemisdemeanortrial experience.” Any trial experience. Heck. Any real motion practice experience. “I’m green as green gets, Nick.”
“I’m a good mentor,” he said smoothly, his tone licking right across my skin, not hiding the innuendo in the slightest. Great. He’d gone from flirty to intent. Apparently, the guy liked smart girls.
I’d worked hard to banish ‘um’ from my vocabulary in preparation for trials, but one slipped out anyway.
He pounced on the weakness like a hawk spotting a field mouse. “I know your history with Devlin, but the past is in the past. He’s a criminal, Anna. Your job is to put criminals away, and we both know why you went into this area of law.”
“Do we?” I murmured, lowering my chin just enough.
He nodded, deadly serious. “You didn’t get justice, so you’re seeking it for others. I’ve seen it before.” He stood and loomed over the desk. “What you don’t know, is that I take very good care of my friends. Of my colleagues. I’ll get you what you want.”
I frowned. Was that a come on? A promise for a job in Boise at some point? “What exactly do I want?”
His gaze was fierce but his tone oddly gentle. “I have connections all across the world. You want to know where the guy who got away with kidnapping you is and what he’s doing this very day? I can find Jareth Davey for you. I promise.” He turned and walked out of the room, not waiting for a response.
Which was a good thing, because I couldn’t speak. Not a word.
* * *
My mind couldn’t let goof Nick’s remarks for the remainder of the morning. Jareth Davey was a lingering shadow in my life from the second he’d kidnapped me. After the trial, he’d disappeared, but even now, I looked over my shoulder sometimes. He’d be around forty years old and probably was as crazy as ever. Considering he still sent me cards every year for the anniversary and for Christmas, he hadn’t forgotten about me. I shivered.
Enough. I had to get out of the office, and I kept my head down as I hurried past the receptionist and into the spring day. For an early lunch, I bought a turkey sandwich at McQuirk’s Deli next to the courthouse and wandered around the park, past several of the college buildings, and down to the weathered picnic tables skirting the lake. Clouds gathered above and turned the water a deep gray, but the breeze was still somewhat warm.
As planned, I found my cousin Pauley O’Shea perched on a table, slightly hunched over, a bag of breadcrumbs in his hand as he faced a gaggle of ducks at the water’s edge. Nobody else was around yet. Gingerly, I sat my butt on the table, careful not to slide on the rough wood and rip my skirt. “Hey.”
“Hey.” His long fingers slid into the bag, and he tossed crumbs at the squawking birds. The breeze lifted his thick brown hair, and I glanced at his thin shirt and pants. He should have on a coat, but I didn’t mention that yet.
Instead, I nodded toward a sign pounded into a nearby tree that said, ‘Don’t Feed the Birds.’ “You’re breaking the rules.”
He threw another handful, rocking slightly, not looking at the sign or at me. “Nobody will yell at me.”
Probably true. “How was your first week of summer classes?”
“Same as last semester, which was my first semester in college.” He watched the birds for a few more minutes. “Everyone is old, and it’s boring.” He rocked back and then forward. “I am smarter than the teacher.”
“You’re smarter than almost everybody,” I said absently. At sixteen years old, in college, he was probably the youngest in the classes. Was that going to be a problem?
“Are you checking on me?” he asked, his neck rolling fractionally.
I nodded. “Sure. I also like talking to you, which you know.” He was Lacey O’Shea’s younger brother, and the closest person I had to a brother. I reached for the bag.
“No.” He pulled it away. “You will get in trouble.”
