you don’t know the half of it. But that’s another story for another day. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Simone absently hung up the hone. Humph. Figure out what I want and stick with it. I thought I had, once upon a time. Guess I was wrong.
“How’s it feel to be back in your own office?” Justin asked, leaning against the frame of the door.
Chad looked up from sorting the files on his desk, happy to see his mentor. He leaned back in his chocolate-brown leather chair and expansively linked his fingers behind his head. “Man, I am home,” he stated, enunciating every word.
Justin chuckled and stepped inside. Casually, he gazed around, intermittently picking up and putting down objets d’art that Chad brought back with him from his travels. Statues from Ghana, talismans from Uganda, native cloths from Liberia and fetishes from the Sudan, among others.
Chad monitored Justin’s apparent ease and lack of agenda, and knew from years of working with him that he had something on his mind. It was a tactic that worked like a charm with juries, and Chad, too, had mastered the technique—biding his time before making his move. The only unknown factor was when Justin would strike. Chad didn’t have to wait long.
Justin crossed his arms and pursed his lips as though preparing for his closing argument.
“I have a few concerns I want to discuss with you.”
“I figured as much.”
The two men looked at each other with quiet amusement.
“You know I think of you as a son, Rush,” Justin began, using the name he’d tagged him with since Chad’s early days at the firm. “You’re one of the sharpest attorneys I’ve come across in years. I can easily see you winding up in a political office, maybe in the House or on the federal bench.”
“Thank you, Justin. You know your opinion means a great deal to me.”
“However…”
“I knew there was a ‘however’ in there somewhere.”
Justin took a seat opposite Chad, crossed his right ankle over his left knee and eased back. “And I’m sure you know that even though I will support you in this endeavor, I have some serious concerns on how this will impact on my family. Simone has always been the more levelheaded, thoughtful one of my children. But she can be willful and stubborn once she sets her mind to something. This run for the Assembly seat is a major step in her political career. And with the Republicans running the show and backing the police, what you propose could severely damage whatever chance she may have. These are very powerful people you’ll be battling, and the word defeat is not in their vocabulary. They’ll do whatever is necessary to protect the status quo. Don’t expect them to just roll over.”
“So what are you saying?”
Justin held up his hand. “Hold on. Sam, on the other hand, will run out into the fray with guns blazing. She’s hot-tempered and doesn’t care who knows it. Many times she thinks with that big heart of hers and not her head. Did she mention to you the death threats she’s been receiving?”
Chad’s eyes widened in alarm. “N-no. She hasn’t.”
Justin nodded. “I didn’t think she would. She believes she can handle everything. This is not the kind of think you ignore.”
Chad leaned forward. “How did you find out?”
“Purely by accident. I was in her office one day when the mail arrived. I saw her face when she opened one of the letters. I made her show it to me. That’s when she admitted it wasn’t the first one.”
“Has anything been done?”
“All the usual precautions. But it’s pretty hard to get police protection when they’re the very ones you’re going after. They won’t do anything until after the fact.”
“Damn!”
“I hired a private bodyguard. But Sam cussed him out his first day on the job, and pretty much made his life hell. He lasted about a week.”
Chad tried not to smile, but he could just imagine Sam working the poor guy over. But he quickly became somber when he reflected on the dark implications of all that Justin discussed. Death threats were serious business.
“What do you want me to do, Justin? Forget this whole thing?”
“No. Not at all. What I do want is to keep my daughters as far out of the picture as possible. I want them out of harm’s way. I know that’s not going to be easy, given their ethics and personalities.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t want them hurt by this in any way. I don’t want to see anything happen to them.”
“I understand, Justin. But the reality is, Sam and Simone are grown women. If I told them tomorrow that I’d changed my mind, that the whole idea was crazy, they’d take it upon themselves to keep moving forward. You know how they are.”
“Exactly. That’s why I want you to work closely with me. Involve them as little as possible. Stall them with the big stuff. Keep them in the background.”
Chad’s brows rose with doubt. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“None of this is,” Justin said. “And it’s only the beginning.”
Chapter 8
“Mia, has there been any word on the condition of those other two young men who were with Fields?” Samantha quizzed as she reviewed the statements from Roderick’s family. She was certain the police would try to somehow discredit Fields even if it was with something as inane as cheating on a spelling bee in grade school. She wanted to be prepared for every inevitability, including a leak of some minor juvenile offense to the press.
“No. Nothing new,” Mia said, “but take a look at this.”
Samantha peered over the top of her thin-framed designer glasses and caught the tight expression on Mia’s face. “What is it?” She felt sure she knew the answer before she read the headlines: more tragedy. She picked up the paper. Unarmed Man Shot By Police. The Washington Post article referred to another New York incident involving some undercover officers who harassed a black man during a buy-and-bust sting. When the victim didn’t offer information about the location of a nearby drug den, but rebuffed them, a violent confrontation ensued and the victim, twenty-sixyear-old Patrick Dorismond, a Haitian immigrant, was shot dead despite being unarmed.
“Another ‘accident,’ I suppose?” Samantha said with disgust, quickly digesting the details of the latest killing. She blew out an exasperated breath and pulled her glasses from her nose. “When is this going to stop?”
Mia shook her head sadly, her berry-toned face bearing an expression of grief and denial. She’d been Samantha’s assistant since she’d graduated with honors in political science from Georgetown University, and had the opportunity to meet Samantha at a voter registration rally two years earlier. She’d been so inspired by the fire and vision of Samantha Montgomery that she convinced Sam to let her work for free for the first three months—anything so that she could learn. Reluctantly, Samantha had taken her on,
