* * *
“Jack Lockwood, the enemy!” Homicide detective Ian Carney is one of my oldest friends in the business. He’s also oddly cheerful. “What’s new in running from justice?”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I ask with an equal dose of sarcastic cheer. “Nice to know some things never change.”
“Call me paranoid, but I’m naturally suspicious when a high-powered defense attorney calls me out of the blue. Especially one who’s trying to dodge a sexual assault charge.”
My lips tighten. As much as I like bantering with Ian, this situation has become darker than I expected. “Actually, I’m calling to see if you can meet me for coffee. I need your help.”
I’ve met angry truckers, private detectives, and nervous doctors at Grinder’s. It’s the first time I’ve been the one on the ropes meeting with a man I hope can help me out of a jam.
“What’ll you have today, sugar?” Meg, my usual waitress, stands beside the booth chewing gum and pulling a pencil from behind her ear.
I glance over to the case and see a couple of pies circling. It makes me think of Emberly and how I’ve got to fix this and get back in her arms.
“Coffee with cream.”
Her eyes move to Ian, and he nods. “Same.”
Waving her hands she does a little “Fine” and heads back toward the bar. I’ll still leave her a decent tip, but I’m not in the mood for anything else.
“So you have proof evidence was hidden, but you don’t have proof you weren’t involved.” Ian leans forward on the table. “And the sexual assault claims?”
I’ve told him everything, given him the thumb drive, of which I made a copy before leaving my office.
“It’s our former receptionist, who they replaced while I was gone. We were always friendly…” Why would Tiffany lie for them?
Meg puts two coffee cups between us with one hand then fills them from a glass carafe in her other. “Anything else?”
“Not now,” I say quickly. “Thanks, Meg.”
She saunters off, and Ian takes a sip of black coffee, equally black eyes never leaving my face.
“Well?” he says.
“Well what?” I reply, pouring one cream into my cup and giving it a stir.
“Did you sexually assault the receptionist?”
I nearly spit the sip of coffee back into my cup. “No! I never. We went for a drive my last night here. She wanted to go skinny dipping…”
I’m not even going to say what all Tiffany wanted to do.
His eyebrow cocks, and he leans back against the red vinyl booth. “So you fucked her?”
“No.” I set the cup down hard. “I never touched her—except to put her in a Lyft and send her back to her apartment.”
“Look, Jack, I’ve been to your office. I’ve seen Tiffany.” He holds his hands like he’s gripping melons in front of his chest. “I mean, I’ve seen her.”
“I never touched her.” My voice is seething. “I was furious about what I’d uncovered and trying to decide what to do about it. I knew if I said anything, they’d deny it. I didn’t know they’d pin it all on me with a side of sexual assault.” Leaning back, I exhale a groan. “They’re trying to destroy me.”
He’s quiet a moment, staring at his cup. Then his dark eyes cut up to mine. “How do you know she’s on their side?”
My head jerks back. “What’s that?”
“Brice told you she’s on their side, but have you talked to her? Why would they replace her if she’s threatening a lawsuit against a lawyer they want to control?”
“They don’t want that kind of publicity. They’re one of the oldest firms on the eastern seaboard. Sexual misconduct kills female business and pisses off female judges faster than anything else.”