instead of going gunning for Chase, he returned to his desk to consider the best course of action. Once and for all he was determined to teach his brother about responsibility so he could become the kind of man who respected himself. The kind of man who didn’t have to live with the ghost of blame.
* * *
“I’VE DECIDED NOT to put you in prison, Ms. Kitzke,” Judge Haverston said, looking stern as she peered over her half-glasses. “I believe you had the best of intentions.” She paused. “You know what they say about the road to hell.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“There will be no punitive damages. The earnest money will be refunded.” She glanced at the paperwork on her wide desk, then gave her gavel a light tap. “I believe we are adjourned.”
Phoebe Kitzke remained standing as everyone else in the small Los Angeles courtroom was told to rise. Judge Haverston swept through the doorway leading to her chambers, or whatever it was that judges had. The legal secret place, she thought, looking for humor but unable to feel anything except lingering terror. Hopefully relief would soon follow.
Not going to prison was a good thing, she reminded herself. She’d seen plenty of teenage prison movies when she’d stayed up late watching cable while babysitting back in high school. She knew what sorts of things could happen. Far better to stay on the right side of the law.
Phoebe shook hands with the company attorney and thanked him for his help, then turned to find her boss, April Keller, waiting for her. April was taller than Phoebe—who wasn’t?—and the kind of sun-streaked blonde Southern California was famous for. Phoebe had always felt a bit out of place in LA, with her short, curvy physique, and dark hair and eyes.
“Are you okay?” April asked.
Phoebe shrugged. “I’m happy about avoiding prison. I don’t have the background to be successful there. As for the rest of it, I’m still pretty numb.”
April sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding both miserable and relieved. “For everything. You really saved me.”
Phoebe didn’t want to go there. If she thought too much about what had happened, she would get angry and say things that would damage an important relationship.
“What about my job?” she asked instead. “Did I save that, too?”
April pressed her lips together and avoided her gaze.
“Great,” Phoebe said and pushed past her, heading for the exit. “Let me guess. I’ve been fired.”
“Suspended.”
April followed her into the hallway. People milled around them, all going about their legal business. Phoebe hoped the innocent ones would have better luck than she did. She stopped by a battered bulletin board and looked at her boss.
“For how long?” she asked.
“A month.” April touched her arm. “Look, I’m going to make this up to you, I swear. I’ll pay your salary out of my own pocket.”
Phoebe sucked in a breath. “I was suspended without pay?”
April nodded.
Perfect. Just perfect. Phoebe stepped back and squared her shoulders. “I guess I’ll see you in a month,” she said before heading for the door.
April hurried after her. “Phoebe, wait. I know you’re furious with me. You have every right to be angry.”
Phoebe stopped. “Actually, the person I’m angry with is myself.”
Tears filled April’s eyes. “If you hadn’t helped me, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“I know. I’m glad you’re okay.” She made a show of glancing at her watch. “Look, I have to go.”
“Okay, but call me in a couple of days, okay? You can yell at me for as long as you want. I deserve it.”
Phoebe nodded, then walked toward the elevator for the underground parking. She tried to tell herself that in the larger picture, she’d done a good deed. Cosmically, she’d just improved her chances of fame and glory in her next life by helping out someone in need. If there was a next life. If there wasn’t, she’d just been suspended—without pay—from a job she loved, for something that shouldn’t have been her fault, but was.
So far it wasn’t the best Monday she’d ever had.
“Phoebe?”
The voice came from behind her, but she recognized it. Recognized it and knew her Monday was about to get worse. She sucked in a breath and turned to find Jeff Edwards standing in the grubby hallway. The same Jeff she’d once loved, promised to marry and had almost moved in with...right up until she’d caught him in bed with an eighteen-year-old intern she was training as part of a jobs program for kids aging out of foster care.
Tall, good-looking, successful Jeff Edwards who had dared to demand all his DVDs back after she’d ended the relationship. Jeff Edwards of the California Bureau of Real Estate.
“You really screwed up,” he said, holding out an official-looking envelope. “The board is considering revoking your license.”
She blinked at him, unable to believe this was really happening. It was like being involved in a car accident, when everything moved in slow motion. While there was no time to stop the course of events that would change her life forever, there was also no way to avoid the crash.
In a perfect world, she would be able to think of some witty, biting comment to put him in his place. But as her world was spinning in much the same direction as her day, she plucked the envelope from his hands without saying a word. In her first stroke of luck that morning, the elevator doors chose that moment to open, and she stepped inside with as much silent dignity as she could muster. Her only minor victory was the look of shock on Jeff’s face as the door gently closed, leaving him standing alone and talking to himself.
* * *
CHASE TYPED RAPIDLY on his keyboard, his fingers moving in time with the pounding beat of the song playing in his earbuds. On his screen, a small frame in the corner displayed a montage of images flickering on and off, also in perfect synchronization with the music. He ignored them for the most part—except for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit pictures he’d downloaded the previous week. Those very fine ladies got his full attention. When his program started flashing pictures of rock bands, cars and twisted space aliens, he moved his gaze back to the chat box in the center of his screen, and the message waiting there.
Robotic cat failed to attack mice, although it did fall on one.
Chase read the sentence twice, swore, then pulled out a worn notebook and began flipping through the pages.
Did it show any interest at all? he typed. Can you confirm sensors are working?
Because in the last test, the sensors had been working fine. At least they’d been registering. But did the robot understand what it was seeing? That was where he and Peter stumbled. Maybe a robot cat was too ambitious, he thought for the thousandth time. Maybe they should have started with the mouse instead. Maybe—
The
