I picked up my cup, drained the rest of my coffee, and slammed the cup on the bar a little harder than I intended to as I stood up. Without a word, I walked away from King toward the hallway that led to the stairs.
“Morning, Matlock.”
“Morning, Grace. How are you feeling?”
She rubbed at her stomach, and something pinched at my chest. Simon wanted kids. I never did. At least, I hadn’t until lately. Seeing the old ladies pregnant and giving birth, the little ones running around... it started giving me ideas. Ideas I had no business contemplating.
“Not too bad,” she said. “Hey, I was wondering if you could bring Simon by the clubhouse?”
“Why?” I asked, pinning my eyes to my president, who smiled at his old lady.
“I need a haircut,” she said quietly as she fingered the ends of her hair. “It’s still hard to leave the clubhouse and I—”
“I’ll bring him by tomorrow. He’ll be happy to cut your hair.”
I knew Simon would agree the moment I asked. Grace smiled softly and said, “Thank you.”
I didn’t touch her, but I leaned over and kissed the top of herhead. “Anything for the First Lady.”
I slipped past her and took the stairs two at a time up to my room. There was something about knowing Simon would be at the clubhouse that loosened the knot in my stomach. Knowing he couldn’t tell me no when I asked him to come.
I quickly added some clothes to a duffel bag and packed my suits in the garment bag I kept in the closet. My cut hung on the bar next to my suits and without thought, I grabbed it and added it to the bag.
I didn’t wear it often; I worked most of the time and it wasn’t the proper attire for a lawyer to wear in court. Or even in the office. Simon had mentioned it once or twice. Mentioned how sexy I looked with it on. If that was what it took to get him to concede, then I’d wear it around the house.
With nothing but my fucking boxers.
I dropped my bags by the door, careful not to let my suits wrinkle, and made my way to Nav’s office and knocked on the door.
“Hey, you find anything yet?”
“Not on the female prosecutor, but did you know Alan grew up in New York?”
“I did not.”
“Think Sadie knew?”
“I don’t know fuck all of what Sadie knew because she fucking ran. Keys is tracking her down.”
“Alan Sanders, born in 1996, grew up in Peekskill, New York. I didn’t know Peekskill was a real fucking place,” Nav said.
“Eastland Academy isn’t though. So don’t go looking for Blair Warner.”
“Nah, Jo was more my type.” He grinned at me and then went back to typing. “His parents were Joseph and Elaine Sanders. But I think he might have been adopted.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Can’t find any medical birth records for Elaine.”
“Maybe she delivered in a different state. Any adoptionrecords?” I asked.
“None that I’ve found so far.”
“There has to be something.” Even an illegal adoption had a paper trail of some kind. “See if Alan’s father had any friends who were judges. Then look into them.”
“Not my first rodeo, brother.”
I rolled my eyes at the back of Nav’s head and offered, “I’ll ask Simon if Sadie ever mentioned anything about Alan’s family.”
