up against, how serious is the alleged crime you’ve been accused of?”
Micah glanced over his shoulder to see if either one of his sons had quietly sneaked up behind him. For the most part, Gary and Greg were as quiet as train wrecks, but every so often—most likely through the use of magic—they managed to approach his space without making a sound, and almost always when he was saying something they weren’t old enough to hear yet.
But when he looked, both boys were still on the floor in front of the TV. Gary was laughing and chattering to his brother. Greg wasn’t answering. The younger boy appeared to have fallen asleep.
Taking a breath, Micah said, “The word treason should cover it.”
“Oh.” Tracy paused a second to get her bearings and regroup. “You’re being accused of treason? Seriously?” she asked, her voice echoing disbelief.
“That’s it in a nutshell. Treason,” Micah repeated. He half expected the woman with the teenager’s voice to beg off, saying something along the lines that she’d just realized she had a prior commitment—like for the next eighteen years.
But instead, he heard her say, “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow at five-thirty.”
Well, that was a surprise. The woman had taken it in stride. “Five-thirty,” he repeated, feeling both numb and, for the first time in two days, somewhat hopeful. Numb because he still couldn’t believe this was happening to him, and hopeful because at least he’d taken the first step toward resolving this nightmare.
God knew he’d never been an angel, nor had he presented himself as one, but anyone who knew him knew that he took pride in his work, pride in the fact that in some small way, he was helping to defend the country that he loved. He could no more do what he was being accused of—selling top secret information to this country’s enemies—than he could suddenly grow a viable set of gills and live the rest of his life in the ocean.
And yet, the company he’d gone to work for straight out of college was saying he was guilty.
“Daddy,” Gary called, breaking into his thoughts. The boy beckoned wildly for him to come over and join them. “Come see this. It’s funny!” the little boy said, laughing.
“I could use ‘funny’ right about now,” Micah told his son. Putting his cell phone away, he went to join the two little boys. He sat down on the sofa directly behind his sons and glanced in Greg’s direction. His younger son was curled up on the floor and from the looks of it, had fallen asleep. “Looks like this put Greg to sleep,” he commented to the other boy.
Gary waved a dismissive hand at his brother. “He’s a baby,” he taunted the sleeping boy. “He still needs naps.” And then, suddenly becoming animated, Gary looked over his shoulder at his father. “Want me to wake him up for you?” he asked eagerly.
“No, that’s all right,” Micah assured his son. “Let him sleep. He probably needs it.”
He heard Gary mumble “Big baby” under his breath. The next moment, the boy was scrambling up onto the sofa, taking advantage of the fact that with his brother asleep, he had his father all to himself. “Just us guys, huh, Daddy?” he asked, puffing up his chest.
Just then, Sheila came out of the kitchen. She’d placed all the food they’d brought home in doggie bags from the restaurant into the refrigerator.
“So how did it go?” she asked, sitting down on the other side of Micah. She nodded toward to phone in his pocket to make her point.
“Well enough, I guess.” It was hard to glean anything from the few minutes he and the lawyer had talked. “I’m meeting her at her office tomorrow.”
“Good,” Sheila approved, nodding her head. “This’ll be over with before you know it,” she promised, then smiled warmly at him as she patted his hand. “Just you wait and see.”
“Shhh,” Gary said loudly. He put his finger to his lips. “You hafta listen,” he insisted, looking at his great-aunt. “You’re missing all the good stuff.”
“No, I’m not,” Sheila told him, her eyes crinkling as she regarded the little boy fondly. “The ‘good stuff’ is right here.”
“This is the good part,” Gary alerted his father and his great-aunt just before he turned his eyes back to the screen and watched in rabid attention.
Yes, Micah thought, eyeing both his sons, this is the good part. No way would he allow some baseless, false accusations to destroy that for him.
Certainly not without one hell of a fight.
Tracy’s last appointment wound up leaving early, for once sticking to the facts and cutting his rhetoric short. That allowed her a few minutes of breathing space before her last client of the day, Micah Muldare, arrived.
Treason. Well, that was certainly a new one. She’d never handled a treason case before, nor had any of the other lawyers at the firm. She very well could be in over her head.
But, she reasoned philosophically, the only way to learn was to learn, right? She tried to look at each new challenge that came her way as an opportunity for her to grow as a person.
Each new professional challenge, she amended.
She had absolutely no interest in expanding or growing on a personal level, no matter what Kate blatantly hinted at.
Been there, done that.
Her one incredibly brief foray into marriage had been nothing short of an unmitigated disaster, the likes of which she had no desire to repeat or relive ever again. The only way to avoid it was not to come within a ten-mile radius of the institution of marriage.
That meant no dating, no mingling with any representative of the opposite sex in any form except professionally.
Speaking of which …
Tracy glanced at her watch. It was five minutes past five-thirty. Her last client of the day was now officially late.
So where was Mr. I’m Not Guilty of Treason, anyway?
Maybe she should have questioned him a little more thoroughly about who had referred him. Her time was too precious to waste, sitting here and waiting.
Another five minutes went by.
Okay, she’d been patient enough, Tracy decided. Time to go home to a hot bubble bath and a cold pizza, she told herself, thinking of what waited for her in her refrigerator.
She’d really enjoyed the food at Giuseppe’s. So much so that she’d taken an order of pizza—classic flat, with extra cheese and three meat toppings—home with her. She’d had a couple of slices last night for dinner and planned to have two more tonight.
Never a big eater, Tracy figured that the pizza would probably last her about four, or maybe five days, depending on—
Her phone rang, breaking into her thoughts and demanding her attention. Since it was now a quarter to six, she debated ignoring it and letting the caller go straight to voicemail.
Maybe it was her errant client, calling
