Lawyer Trap

14





DAY THREE–SEPTEMBER 7

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON


When a well-dressed woman walked into Aspen’s office mid-afternoon and closed the door behind her, Aspen knew that something was going on and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I’m Jacqueline Moore,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I was in your seat twenty-one years ago. Welcome to our humble abode.”

Aspen swallowed.

Jacqueline Moore, Esq.

Nickname Cruella de Ville.

Aspen had heard the rumors.

None of them were particularly good.

“We’re both busy, so I’m going to get right to the point,” the woman said, sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Aspen’s desk. She looked to be about forty-five with perfectly manicured hair and nails, the kind of person who could walk into any boardroom or highbrow party and chat it up with the best of them.

Her outfit was expensive and her jewelry large.

No wedding ring.

“One of the bad things about my particular job,” she said, “is being responsible for setting course corrections when they’re needed. Some people will tell you I thrive on it. I don’t, and that’s the truth. But someone has to be the mouthpiece for the firm’s policies, and we decided long ago that if only a few people did it, they’d in effect serve as the lightning rods for any negative feelings that might arise.” She paused. “But hopefully there won’t be any of those.”

Aspen remembered the balance in her checkbook.

$82.00.

No matter what happened, she’d have to be polite.

The woman patted Aspen’s hand. “This is just a small matter,” Jacqueline said. “Hardly anything, really. It’s come to our attention that you’ve contacted one of the firm’s clients, namely Dr. Beverly Twenhofel. Is that true?”

Aspen nodded.

So that’s what this was about.

“Yes.”

“Apparently in connection with some type of investigation you’re conducting into the disappearance of Rachel Ringer. Is that true also?”

Aspen nodded.

“I’m just trying to figure a few things out.”

“I understand.” Jacqueline looked sympathetic. “Rachel’s a wonderful person,” she said. “We all miss her and we all want her back. But the police are working on it. And the firm has hired two top-notch investigators who are also working on it. What we can’t have is individual attorneys running around trying to solve the case. It makes the firm look amateurish. It makes us look like we’re not focused on legal matters. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Aspen nodded.

She did indeed.

Jacqueline stood up, smiled and walked to the door.

“Your heart’s in the right place,” she said. “It’s good to have you with the firm.”

Then she was gone.

Aspen’s hands trembled and she gripped them together to make them stop.

It didn’t work.





15





DAY THREE–SEPTEMBER 7

WEDNESDAY


Draven didn’t intend to develop feelings for the whore—Gretchen—but did, and that screwed everything up. His initial plan was to have her go to the bar this evening, come on to one of the bikers, and then lure him into the back alley for a blowjob. Then Draven would pop out of the shadows and give the a*shole a lesson he’d never forget.

The problem is that the scumbags would figure out what had happened, afterwards, and go after the woman.

She wouldn’t be hard to find, not in a town this small.

This morning, when he first hired her, he didn’t give a shit what happened to her.

Now, unfortunately, he did.

He had to regroup and figure out how to get one of the bikers separated from the pack.

After lunch at Wendy’s, Gretchen asked, “What now?”

Draven thought about it.

The sky above was clear.

The temperature was absolutely perfect.

“Let’s take a hike somewhere,” he said.

She beamed.

“I know the perfect place.”

They ended up at the Pueblo Reservoir, which looked like a mini Lake Powell. Gretchen knew a trail that descended into the back of a canyon. They hiked down—well over a mile from the car—found the place deserted and went skinny-dipping.

The rocks baked the water and kept it surprisingly warm, especially in the shallow spots.

Draven felt the need to show off and swam across the canyon, about a hundred yards, as fast as his overhand stroke would take him.

When he got back Gretchen was impressed.

“You look like Tarzan,” she said.

He beat his chest and did his best Tarzan yell.

A lizard darted by and Draven chased it. It took a full three or four minutes, but he finally caught it. Holding it by the tail, he walked toward Gretchen swinging it back and forth.

“Got a friend for you,” he said.

She screamed and jumped in the water.

“Don’t you dare!”

He tossed the lizard on a bush and jumped in after her.

Then it was time to make love. Right there in the water. They both knew it.

Neither hesitated.

This time, unlike Monday night, she kissed him.

Long and deep.

He kissed her back.

Afterwards they dressed and sat in the sun. Draven’s thoughts returned to the bikers.

“I have some scumbags after me,” he said. Then he told her the story of what had happened in the bar Monday night and how his apartment had been trashed yesterday.

“I heard about the bar,” she said.

“You did?”

She nodded.

“The word’s out that one of them got beat up in the bathroom.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“I know that jerk,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yep. They call him Two-Bits, but his real name’s John Sinclair. I know his three friends, too. They’re all first-degree a*sholes. They gang-raped me one night, the little pricks. One of them paid money for it, but the other three jumped in and took me for free. To me, that’s rape, not to mention that my ass bled for a week.”

Draven felt his jaw muscles tighten.

“Do you know where they live?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, why?”