like it, that was his problem.
He checked the highway, picked his spot and merged back into traffic. He made himself map out the rest of his afternoon so he wouldn’t dwell on one Sloan Burke. Or how the more he’d read, the more he’d admired her. Or how he had, against his better judgment, called up online video of those hearings, had watched with a pained sort of raptness as she told the story of her husband’s death and the cover-up it had revealed. Her testimony had been passionate, articulate and damning. She had never faltered, never let herself be diverted or intimidated. She had shamed them all with her courage, and in the end she had won.
And with each moment he’d watched, he’d envied a dead man more.
Brett arrived back at the office to a slew of messages, paper, voice mail and emails. Some were the kind that ate at him, queries on cases where there was no progress. One was a break—the suspect in the case where he’d given the deposition had pled out, saving him from any potential trial appearance. The last two were information he’d asked for on other cases.
He sorted them out, prioritizing, making notes of requested details and happily deleting the one from the prosecutor freeing him. For once, the clerk didn’t come by to gripe at him for not giving everyone he dealt with his cell number. He was pondering that miracle when that cell phone rang.
He recognized the number immediately. Stared at the small screen for a moment. Glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot, then grimaced at himself for doing it.
Finally, he answered.
“I’m sorry to bother you again,” she said without preamble. “And I’m probably being horribly presumptuous, but...”
Her voice trailed off, and a dozen ways she might be presumptuous shot through his mind, most of which kicked his pulse up into territory it rarely visited unless he was running.
And running was just what he should do. Far away from Mrs. Sloan Burke.
“What is it?” He knew he sounded clipped, and with an effort, he added more evenly, “Do you need me to call Rick again after all?”
“That’s just it. He isn’t there.”
He frowned. “He’s not always. He has to visit sites sometimes. You might have to call him back later.”
“No, I mean he’s gone. As in no longer working there.”
Brett went still. “What?”
“That’s why I called you back. It didn’t seem like you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t. Did they say why?”
“No. But they very pointedly didn’t say why, with that tone people get when there’s an unpleasant story behind it. You know what I mean?”
“Yes.” He fought a sinking feeling. Rick had had that job for a long time, and he couldn’t imagine why he would leave it. Not when he was working so hard to help his daughter stay straight. “I can’t believe he’d just quit. He’s got a daughter in college, and he’s trying hard to keep her there, out of trouble.”
“She was in trouble?”
“A few years ago,” he said. “It was one of my cases.”
It had been quite a mess Caro had gotten herself into, following some less-than-well-chosen friends into drugs and then into a small crime ring, stealing phones and tablets they would wipe and resell. He’d seen immediately she was in way over her head, scared, and had known there was a chance to save her. She’d just been reeling after the death of her mother. The girl had, with a little help, pulled herself free and turned her life around, he’d thought for good.
He hoped some major problem with her wasn’t the reason Rick had left.
“You helped her, didn’t you?” Sloan asked when he didn’t go on. “That’s why her father thinks he owes you.”
She didn’t miss much, he thought. And he shouldn’t have said that about Caro getting into trouble. It wasn’t anybody else’s business. Not to mention she’d been a juvenile, not the kind of case he should be discussing with a civilian.
“She helped herself,” he said. “I just gave her a little direction. That’s all they said, no hint as to why?” he asked, fending off any other questions he couldn’t or shouldn’t answer.
“Nothing. But I’m a stranger. They’d probably tell you.”
“I’ll call.” And after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Thank you, Sloan.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll ask about your permit, too.”
“That’s all right. You need to deal with your friend’s situation. I think we’ll just forget it and start over. We’ll go in this afternoon when the visiting caretaker is here for Uncle Chuck.”
“That’s generous of you.”
“I’ve calmed down a bit,” she said, her tone wry. “Sometimes you just have to cut your losses. And in the grand scheme of things, a lost application isn’t much.”
“I suppose not,” he said. Not compared to what she’d been through before, he thought as they disconnected. Maybe he should just show them who they were dealing with. Perhaps a clip of that video from DC would help them realize they did not want this woman coming after them.
He found Rick’s work number quickly, since he’d just called it. Instead of the usual businesslike recording of Rick’s words, he got a mechanical voice telling him to leave a message at the tone. He left a brief, innocuous message asking him to call. He found the cell number and called it. It went straight to voice mail. Then he tried the home phone with the same result.
He debated for a moment over his next step. He didn’t really want to call Rick’s boss, an autocratic guy his friend had complained about more than once, but his gut was beginning to fire. He checked the county directory on the wall and got the number. As he listened to the ringing, it occurred to him that perhaps Rick might have had good reason for leaving. Maybe another job, one that paid more, would make things easier on both he and Caro. He hoped that was the case.
Another encounter with a recording, this one declaring rather importantly that Mr. Franklin was at a meeting with the county administrator. He didn’t leave a message this time.
There was one other call he could make, he thought. Caro. He did call occasionally anyway to see how she was doing, offering support if she needed it. She was a success story in his book, even if his involvement was exactly the kind of thing some at LAPD had tried to grind out of him. “Finish the case and forget it”was a philosophy he’d never been able to adhere to very well.
He brought up Caro’s number and hit the call button, expecting voice mail again. She wasn’t as bad as some her age about texting only, but she often didn’t answer right away. But she always checked messages, so he mentally ran through what he would say when the recording came on.
Instead
