“And if we can’t, what is your defense strategy?”
“That she was the murder weapon his brother used to kill him and inherit everything.”
He arches a brow. “Come again?”
I lean in closer and lower my voice. “Friends of Mitch’s first wife say Jim is the one that outed her divorce filing, knowing that Mitch was violent. Shortly after Jim did that, Mitch and the first wife went on a ski trip to a family wedding. That was where the accident happened. Mitch was misdiagnosed with cancer at that time. With her gone, Jim thought he was about to inherit.”
“Jim does stand to inherit.”
“Not just inherit. Inherit billions, Reese. We’re talking Grayson’s kind of bank account here. It’s worth hiring Walker to investigate, and furthermore, Jim was whispering in Delaney’s ear, scaring her. I believe he got rid of wife number one and when that didn’t work, he needed wife number two to get rid of his brother. He used her as a murder weapon. He killed his brother. It’s at least, reasonable doubt.”
“It damn sure is,” he says, approval lighting his eyes. “Let’s start by me calling the ADA. If my involvement shuts this down, we celebrate tonight. If not, we look toward a trial and a win.” He pulls out his phone and I listen to him greet the ADA. “Let’s talk about Delaney Wittmore. I’m now on her legal team.”
He listens a moment and then he says. “We both know she shouldn’t have been charged. I don’t care how many billions she inherits. She earned it.” He grimaces at whatever is said and responds with, “I wonder if you could justify beating your wife, then? Or is it only okay if they get Chanel as an apology?” I don’t know what the ADA says in reply, but Reese grimaces. “He hung up. He’s unreasonable. There’s more to this than you and Grayson. He wants a big win with a big name attached. I’ve seen this syndrome before and it’s rotten. I have an idea, but before I share, I have to talk to Cat.”
We stand up and he says, “For the record, Jim using her, a battered wife, as a murder weapon to inherit is a brilliant crime by a dangerous man. Furthermore,” he adds, mimicking my earlier speech, “you catching onto it is brilliant lawyering.”
“It’s only brilliant if it works.”
“The words of a winning lawyer unwilling to count her chickens until they hatch. I do believe we’re going to be brilliant together.”
I smile and I appreciate his compliments, but right now, I’m already thinking about how I will actually do that: winning for Delaney. I already have a million plans in my mind. I need to get to the office and start building a case against Jim.
I motion to Jacob where he sits at the bar and the three of us head outside. We’ve barely stepped out of the building when a tall man with a beard comes out of nowhere and rushes toward me. He’s about ten seconds from grabbing me when Jacob grabs him.
I scream and Blake is suddenly there, pulling me forward and before I ever make it to the Escalade waiting at the curb, Grayson is out the door and running toward me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mia
I’m freaking out when Grayson all but drags me into the Escalade. I’m barely seated and he’s cupping my face and staring down at me. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Jacob was fast. I have no idea what that was or who that was. How did he even know I was here?” I lean around him to Reese. “Are you okay?”
“I’m used to reporters,” he says. “They get crazy.”
Grayson twists around to look at him. “Was it a reporter? Do we know that?”
“I recognize him,” Reese confirms. “He is.”
Jacob climbs into the front seat and turns to face me. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes,” I say, and despite Reese’s claim that this man was a reporter, the Dungeon infiltrated our lives. They seem to be everywhere. I need to know if he’s a reporter and one of them. “Tell me that wasn’t the Dungeon,” I say, needing to hear the words that tell me he wasn’t. Needing that part of our lives to really be over.
The door beside Reese opens and Blake pokes his head in the door. “He’s a reporter who swears he has a big scoop for you, Mia. We got rid of him and I have his card to verify his credentials.”
“But is he with the Dungeon?” I press, not even considering a scoop for me. I’m not a reporter. That makes no sense.
“I don’t believe that to be the case,” Blake replies. “We’ll check him out completely.” He eyes Reese. “Make this damn deal with the Feds and get them some peace of mind.”
“I’m going to call them at my lunch break,” Reese promises, and Blake gives a nod. “All right then. Let me go handle this shit and let you all get Reese to the courthouse.” He shuts the door.