When Vinnie showed me the fingerprint analysis, I’d glimpsedsome other documents in the file: what looked like maps of the neighborhood, printouts of internet search results, notes from interviews. I was partly hoping there might be something in there that made Zach look guilty. Maybe something I could use to reverse-extort him. It wasn’t exactly ethical to threaten to rat out your own client—especially when you suspected he was innocent—but Zach and I were well past ethical now.
“Oh, sure, we’ll hand over all our work product. Just as soon as your client pays us,” Vinnie said, gripping the folder tighter. “Fifteen thousand for past fees and a twenty-thousand retainer for future costs should do it. I can provide an itemization, if needed.”
“Jesus, Vinnie,” Millie groaned, but in a resigned way.
“No, no, it’s okay,” I said. “Can I use an office phone for a minute? I’ll call Zach’s accountant right now and get it sorted out.”
“Sure. Come this way.” Millie guided me toward an unoccupied office at the back. “I’m sorry about Vinnie,” she said as we walked. “He’s spent most of his life dealing with criminals. He doesn’t trust anybody. Worst part is that he’s been right most of the time.”
“I understand,” I said as we stopped at the office door. “And it shouldn’t be a problem.”
I reached for the doorknob.
“I have cancer, Lizzie,” Millie said quietly from behind me.
“What?” I spun around to face her.
“That’s why I’m so thin,” she said. “And all the emails. It could have implications, you know, for our arrangement.”
My mouth felt so dry. “God, I’m sorry, Millie. And I’m so sorry that I’ve been—that you even have to think about this right now … you’ve done so much for me. I’m sure when you first offered—I’m sure you didn’t think you’d still be on the hook, what, seventeen years later. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Anything except talking about our whole entire situation. I’m sorry you have cancer. But I just can’t. Not right now.
Millie smiled, but her eyes looked so sad. “I start chemo tomorrow. Mandatory. That’s why I can’t do your interview.”
“Will you be … What do the doctors say?”
“Um, well …” Her voice drifted. “It’s breast cancer, like Nancy. They were always ‘optimistic’ with her, and look how that turned out.” She smiled stiffly. “I’m gonna fight, though. Because I’m a fighter.” It was as forced as her expression.
“Please let me do something.”
“Pretend like I didn’t tell you. That’s what you can do for me,” she said. “And promise me you won’t go upstate yourself.”
“Of course not,” I said, even though it was definitely an extra sin to lie to a sick person.
“And we will need to talk about the rest,” she said, then cleared her throat. “But I assume you’d like to wait on that, given this case you’re dealing with.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Millie pressed her lips tight. “Okay,” she said. “A few days, though, tops. In the meantime, start thinking about what you want to do, because this—our arrangement—I think maybe it’s run its course.”
It was a relief to be in the empty office with the door closed. I was even more grateful for the excuse of having to pull myself together to dial Zach’s accountant. I would face Millie’s news later. I would.
He answered almost immediately. “Teddy Buckley.”
“This is Lizzie Kitsakis. I’m Zach Grayson’s attorney, and he’s given me power of attorney to have financial discussions with you on his behalf. I can email an authorization before we speak further, if you like.”
“Okay,” Teddy said, drawing out the word warily. “Yes, that would be great. I’m sure, under the circumstances, you can understand why I have to wait until I have the authorization in hand before we proceed.”
A by-the-book, nervous guy. Not surprising for an accountant. But there was something else in his voice: relief. He’d been hopingfor a call. From somebody.
“Yeah, hold on one second. I’ll send it right through.”
“No problem,” he said. “I can wait.”
I held my phone away from my ear, snapped a photo of Zach’s executed authorization, then attached the image to an email. The whole process took less than a minute.
“Okay, you should have it in a—”
