They let me go with relatively little protest. Cutler had just walked out of the building. They knew he might be more than willing to throw them a few quotable scraps.
I didn’t want to go back to the office. I didn’t want to go home. With no real plans as to where I was headed, fifteen minutes later, I found myself pulling into Kenya Spaulding’s driveway. I hadn’t called ahead. Hadn’t texted her I was coming. And yet, when I stepped out of my car, Kenya stood in her front door as if she’d been expecting me.
She held a tumbler in one hand, filled with what looked like a mimosa.
“Is it late for that?” I asked. “Or early?”
“Does it matter?” she said, handing it to me. She wore a bright-red kimono, her hair hung long, almost to her waist. If it was possible, the woman looked like she’d grown younger in the year and a half since she left the prosecutor’s office.
I took the drink from her. It tasted perfect, as usual. I followed Kenya out to her solarium at the back of the house. She had a new roommate. A tuxedo cat eyed me from the back of a chair, swishing her tail.
“That’s Ramona,” she said. “She showed up a couple of weeks ago and decided to stay.”
I reached for Ramona and scratched her between the ears. She purred, then leapt off the chair and darted under a potted plant.
“She likes you,” Kenya said.
“I miss you,” I said. “When are you going to cut this out and come back to work?”
Kenya smiled. She draped herself over her chaise lounge, looking like every inch the queen she was.
“When are you going to stop asking me that?”
“We’re a mess, Kenya. I love Hojo. He’s trying his best. But things are falling through the cracks. I’m chasing my tail. And this case? We weren’t ready to go to trial and next week everyone’s going to see why.”
Kenya arched a brow. “Since when have you questioned your own skills like that?”
“It’s not about my skills. I just don’t have enough to get past reasonable doubt.”
“You’re letting Cutler get under your skin. That’s not like you. What’s really going on?”
“I told you. I want you back. So far nobody else has thrown their hat in the ring to run for prosecutor. Hojo doesn’t want it long term.”
“You sure about that?” she asked, sipping her own drink.
“I’m sure. This thing is buckling him. He’s not cut out for it. You are.”
Kenya laughed softly. “Mara, when are you going to cut the crap?”
Her remark startled me. She leveled a hard stare at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you. Coming over here. Thinking you’re going to bully me into taking a job I haven’t decided I want anymore. Thinking it’s because the county needs me.”
“We do need you. Plus, it wasn’t fair how things went down in your last election.”
“My last defeat,” she said.
“Water under the bridge. The electorate knows they made a mistake. I told you. You’ll be unopposed. We can just go back to the way things are supposed to be.”
Kenya put her glass down. “Mara, I’ve known you a long time. When are you going to stop lying to yourself?”
“Kenya …”
“You want me to tell you I’m going to run because then it’ll make things easier for you.”
“Easier, yes. But also because you were good at it. You’re the best at it. We need you. I need you. If you’d been in the corner office, the Luke case could have ripened like it was supposed to. My hand wouldn’t have been forced. And I wouldn’t be on the verge of losing what might be the biggest, most important murder case this county has ever seen.”
Kenya gave me that laser stare of hers. The kind that cuts through you. Only the tiniest lift to the corner of her mouth indicated what she was thinking. Then she hit me with it. Both barrels.
