Legal Heat

Chapter Eleven


“So what do you think of the Forensics Lab?” Trixie waved her arm in a sweeping gesture meant to encompass the entire restaurant and narrowly missed a potted plant on the ledge behind her.

“I keep expecting someone to give us a box with evidence samples or ask us to solve a murder.” Katy swirled the last of the Caymus Conundrum around her glass. Mark would have appreciated the slightly sweet wine she had chosen to complement their Asian meal.

Stop it. But she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

“To be honest, I didn’t even know this restaurant existed,” she said. “I don’t really get out much.” And after tonight, she wouldn’t be going out any time soon. Hi-Tech’s application to amend the pleadings had been approved. She and Mark were in for one hell of a long, drawn out fight.

But more than that, she and Mark were done. After the hearing, he had apologized for what happened on the terrace and assured her it wouldn’t happen again. Keep it professional, he had said. Steer clear of conflict. She couldn’t understand why he had backtracked after he had been so adamant he was going to turn the case over to another partner in the firm. But of course she had agreed. Although his rejection had stung, it was best to end it before anyone got hurt.

Too bad her heart didn’t agree.

Trixie laughed. “I know every restaurant and bar in town. Gotta keep up with the competition. Tony lets me expense everything if I bring him back new ideas for the club.”

“I’m not letting you pay tonight,” Katy warned. “It was nice of you to call and invite me out. I’ve neglected my friends for so long; no one even bothers with me anymore.”

Trixie laughed. “You’ll never get rid of me. When I meet someone I like, I stick like glue. Plus I wanted to check up on you in case you’d been hit with post-traumatic stress disorder. You were pretty shaken when you came into the club the other night.”

“It wasn’t traumatic. Just…unsettling,” Katy lied. She leaned back in her chair and looked out at the boats in Coal Harbor. Situated beside Stanley Park and overlooking the water, the cozy restaurant with its dark wood tables and richly hued walls couldn’t help but do well. “I’m fine, really. I’m just worried about Mark. He figured out who it was and he said he was going to deal with him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Katy took a quick look around the restaurant to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. A few couples, a group of men in suits and a woman dining alone. No one she knew, but busy for a Monday night.

She looked at the woman again. Brave. Had she ever dined alone? The woman scribbled in a notebook, engrossed in her writing. Her food sat untouched on the table in front of her. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Beautiful, flame red hair. Was she waiting for someone? Women that beautiful didn’t need to eat alone.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Trixie said. “Have you taken a good look at the guy? He’ll wipe the floor with Jimmy.”

“You knew who it was too?”

“The thumb marks on the collarbone and fingerprints along the neck are his trade mark.” Trixie waved a hand toward Katy’s scarf. “I also knew he was your client so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“Who else knows?”

Trixie grimaced. “I might have mentioned it to James, and he might have organized a patrol car to check your place periodically at night.”

“Trixie!”

She shrugged. “I’m not bound by any confidentiality rules, and it was just a guess. But a good one. Jimmy’s a bad customer. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“That’s what Mark said.” Katy glanced over at the red-haired woman. She was eating now so obviously not waiting for anyone. Or maybe someone had stood her up. Was she a writer or a reporter? Maybe in Vancouver on business? She looked up and Katy quickly turned away.

Trixie reached across the table and grabbed Katy’s hand. “He means it.”

“I believe you, but it can’t work between us and not just because of the legal conflict I told you about. I’ve only started getting back on my feet. I don’t want someone interfering in my life and messing things up. I don’t want another Steven.”

“He doesn’t want another Claire,” Trixie murmured.

“Who’s Claire?”

Trixie’s eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Tell me,” Katy demanded. “Does he have a girlfriend? A wife? I never thought to ask. It’s been so long since I…”

“Dated?” Trixie offered.

The red-haired woman looked over and arched an eyebrow with obvious interest.

“We’re not dating. We can’t be dating. We’ve never had a date and never will.”

Unabashed, Trixie smiled. “Stop beating yourself up. Claire was in the distant past. So the answer is no, he doesn’t have anyone. But he needs someone. You.”

Katy slumped in her seat. “Not me. He made that clear today.”

The red-haired woman waved down the waiter and asked him for the bill. Katy caught him on his way to the cash register and asked for their bill as well. She had to pay time and a half for her babysitter’s overtime and if she wasn’t careful now, she’d be in trouble when trial season was in full swing.

They collected their coats and headed outside to hail a taxi. Trixie leaned against a lamp post and chewed on a long red nail. “Was your solution to the professional conflict working before last Saturday?”

Katy shrugged. “You mean stopping myself from jumping all over him whenever he walked into a room? I suppose it worked until I drank too much tequila.” She shivered, remembering their risky behavior on the terrace. “There’s no way to resolve the conflict unless one of us drops the case. He offered to do it and then changed his mind. I can’t make the same offer.”

Trixie gave her a wicked grin. “Maybe he needs more of an incentive.”

“Trixie!” Katy laughed. “This isn’t high school. I’m not chasing after him, and I’m not going to interfere with his legal practice. It didn’t work out. I’m okay with that. Sometimes life gets in the way.” She had always thought herself a good liar but Trixie’s snort of disbelief said otherwise.

“When are you seeing him next?”

“Wednesday morning. We have a court hearing. It’s going to be one hell of a fight.”

A taxi pulled up at the curb and Trixie waved Katy toward it. “Ooooh delicious. It’s perfect.” She put her hand on the door. “Call me tomorrow. I know exactly where you need to shop.”

Katy opened her mouth to protest but Trixie cut her off.

“I know. It can’t work. But he was clearly willing to try until something changed his mind. Why not test his resolve? Besides you could really use a new suit.”





“Storm? Who wrote ‘storm’ on my whiteboard? This isn’t a weather report.”

James looked over at his team. No one liked the daily seven a.m. meetings, but the only signs of protest were the increasingly large cups of coffee scenting the air.

“I did, sir.” Mike walked up to the white board and began to draw. James took a seat beside Joanna, the newest addition to his team. She smiled and took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling under her tight, red sweater.

But not as tight as Lana’s mouth-watering, electric-f*cking-blue, barely-an-excuse-for-a-top. And that goddammed skirt. Where the hell did she get off dressing like that? Her outfit was outrageous even for a fetish club. Well, maybe not outrageous, but definitely not something to be shared around. After catching her snooping around Carpe Noctem, he had hustled her to his club office as much to get her away from the lascivious stares of the patrons as to interrogate her.

And what an interrogation. James bit back a laugh. Lana was all confidence and a whole lot of sass. He had never been sassed like that in his entire life. Usually his harsh manner cowed people into submission. Maybe she had no sense of self-preservation. She should have been running in terror instead of teasing him with her lush body and then giving him a glimpse of her soft side with her little speech about his name.

Mike finished his drawing and pointed to the pattern of small circles resembling a military plan of attack. “The pathologist now believes Garcia died of multiple organ failure caused by something called a cytokine storm. It’s an overactive response of the immune system that’s often fatal. When there is a pathogen present, the body produces cytokines that signal immune cells to travel to the site of the infection. The immune cells attack the pathogen and make more cytokines. Usually the body keeps it all in check, but sometimes the reaction becomes uncontrolled and healthy cells and tissues are attacked too. The cause isn’t clearly understood but the pathologist said it can happen if there is a new and highly pathogenic invader.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”

“A number of infectious and non-infectious diseases have been identified as causing cytokine storms. Things like SARS, smallpox, bird flu and sepsis. The pathologist has ordered tests to try and identify the cause in this case.”

“So you’re saying Garcia might have had a fatal reaction to some kind of illness?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any luck getting his medical records?”

Mike shook his head. “No medical records. He’s never been to a doctor, at least one who keeps records.”

“What about Valerie Wood?” James frowned. They were getting nowhere fast with the evidence, and the clock was ticking.

“We don’t have the toxicology results yet, but the preliminaries suggest the same thing. The pathologist found the same evidence of multiple organ failure, but more acute.”

James raked his hand through his hair. “So where are we? Our victims share the same symptoms, so they might have caught a new disease. If that’s the case, the coroner will have to be notified. But if it is a disease, why do we have only two victims? My gut tells me we’re on the wrong track.”

“What about the baggies, sir?”

James nodded. “Two baggies, both fingerprint-linked to a known drug dealer, Jimmy Rider. Unfortunately, Mr. Rider disappeared shortly after I hauled him in for questioning. But first he managed to find time to assault his lawyer. I think we have enough to get a warrant to search Rider’s premises. I also want his picture in every police station and community police center in the city. If he’s in Vancouver, we’ll find him.”

James dismissed the team and then leaned back in his chair and sighed. They were underfunded and undermanned. Too bad he couldn’t hire an investigator to help them. A red-headed one with the sweetest ass he had ever seen. Maybe after he pulled up the pictures of her target, he would give her a call. He would need a name to attach to the pictures. After what he’d seen in the club, he doubted she would give it to him. Another interrogation might be necessary.

He could hardly wait.





“Martha?”

Katy raised her voice, hoping her client wouldn’t hear Steven and the kids fighting over the Wii. Steven had switched his double shift and now she had to endure his presence for an extra night this week. The things she did for her children.

Martha didn’t seem to mind the background noise, and Katy briefed her on the counterclaim, the document request hearing scheduled for the next day and her planned meeting with Terry Silver on Thursday. “I also heard from Martin. He’s leaving the country on Friday and has agreed to a deposition on Friday morning. I’m going to spring it on opposing counsel in the hearing tomorrow so he won’t have time to interfere. I’m pretty sure the judge will allow it.”

“I can’t believe it.” Martha said. “Martin refused to get involved before. How did you change his mind?”

“I would love to take credit for his decision, but he contacted me and made the offer. He said he’d read something in the newspaper that made him realize he could save lives by giving evidence.”

She quizzed Martha about what she expected Martin to say and took copious notes until Martha had exhausted her knowledge about Martin’s time at the company.

“I’m afraid my other news isn’t so good.” Katy sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I can’t get in touch with one of the men on the list, Andrew McIntyre. The Davidsons refuse to speak to me, and I haven’t heard back from Patricia Cunningham. If it’s okay with you, I have another meeting in Burnaby tomorrow afternoon just a few blocks away from the Cunninghams’ house and I might just stop by on my way home to see if she’ll talk to me.”

“Sounds good,” Martha said. “I really want you to get to the bottom of this. And don’t worry about the fees. Do whatever you have to do.”

Don’t worry about the fees? She had never had a client who didn’t worry about fees.

“I’ve done some digging into the men on Martin’s list,” Katy said. “They were all employed by Cleenaway, a cleaning contractor. I called the manager, but he wouldn’t give me any details except to confirm they no longer worked for his company. Does the name ring any bells?”

“Sorry. I didn’t pay much attention to the cleaners. They always came in as I was leaving.”

Steven’s shadow loomed large in Katy’s office and she waved him away. When he didn’t leave, she got up, slammed the door in his face and returned to her desk to continue the call.

“You should be aware that opposing counsel will be present at the deposition and he’ll report the substance of the evidence to Steele. We’ll lose the advantage of surprise by bringing the evidence out now, but I don’t see we have a choice given Martin’s imminent departure.”

Steven knocked on the door. The constant tap, tap, tap set her nerves on edge. She pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I’ll try to work it in. Other than that, things are progressing as they should be. We expect to have a trial date for spring or summer next year.”

Martha gasped. “That’s almost a year from now. I didn’t realize I would have to wait so long.”

“We’re lucky,” Katy assured her. “Some of my clients have to wait two or three years before they get to court.”

The door burst open and Steven stormed in, fuming. Katy frowned and pointed to the phone and mouthed the word client. Steven didn’t take the hint. He leaned against the bookshelves and folded his arms.

Katy wrapped up the call with a few housekeeping matters and then turned to glare at the man she had once thought was the center of her world. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was on a call with a client. You know perfectly well I can’t conduct confidential business with you in the room.”

“You’re seeing someone.”

Katy froze. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I bumped into Sonia Rutledge on my way in. She said you didn’t get home until two o’clock on Saturday morning.”

Katy rolled her eyes. Eighty-two year old Sonia spent her days and most of her nights collecting gossip to share at her weekly tea party. “Well there’s a good source of information,” she snapped.

“Don’t be unkind, Kate. It’s not like you. In fact, you’ve changed over the last few weeks and I don’t like it. Is it him? Your new boyfriend? Is he the reason you’re running around in the middle of the night and snapping at me when I just want to share some family time together?”

Katy toyed with the letter opener on her desk. Long, sleek and very sharp. Almost like a knife. With his formidable medical skills, would Steven be able to save himself if she stabbed him?

Get a grip, Sinclair. She put the opener in the desk drawer and slammed it shut.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not seeing anyone. And if I was, you would be the last person I would ever tell.”

“Come play on the Wii with us.” He held out his hand, expecting her to take it.

“I’m in court tomorrow. I have to prepare.”

“Just one game. You never play.”

Katy didn’t like his accusatory tone nor did she like his competitive streak. Usually family games ended with Steven punching the air in victory and one of the kids crying.

“I have an idea, Steven. How about you clean the kitchen, help the kids with their homework, get their things ready for school tomorrow, do the laundry, sew Melissa’s ballet suit, make the lunches and put the kids to bed? Once that’s done and my work is finished, then I’ll play.”

Steven narrowed his eyes. “Don’t pull that crap with me. I know what you’re up to on the weekends and it isn’t work. Maybe you should stop pretending you’re eighteen and start acting like a mother again.” He stormed out of her office, slamming the door behind him.





Mark drummed his fingers on the counsel table at the front of the courtroom.

He had exhausted every avenue at his disposal, pulled in favors, even visited some very old and unsavory friends, but he couldn’t find Jimmy Rider. James had refused to help him. Apparently Jimmy was a person of interest in an open case and James had warned Mark away. But Mark couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t sleep knowing Jimmy was still walking the streets. If James hadn’t arranged for the police check at Katy’s house, he would have been outside her home every night.

He looked down the center aisle but the heavy doors were still shut. A few lawyers and court watchers chatted at the back of the courtroom. He tried to focus on the papers in front of him but his mind kept drifting to Katy. Breaking it off had been the right decision. The surge of protective anger that had almost overwhelmed him when he had seen the bruises on her neck had been the wake-up call he needed. He had fallen too hard, too fast. It had to end before someone got hurt.

A rush of cold air hit his neck as the door opened behind him. He turned to look. No posturing today. He needed to see her. Make sure she was okay.

His eyes widened. What the hell is she wearing?

Mark leaped from his chair and left the counsel table, moving to intercept Katy before she made it to the front of the room. Every male in the courtroom had to be ogling her as she sauntered down the aisle. The judge would sanction her for…what? Being so damned sexy he could barely breathe?

Katy didn’t spare him a glance as she walked toward him, her hips swaying in her too-short, too-tight pencil skirt and stiletto heels. Her fitted jacket hugged every curve of her lush body and the plunging neckline of her white shirt highlighted the full, round breasts he couldn’t get out of his mind. Her hair fanned out in a silken sheet across her back. No ponytail today. Totally indecent. He wanted to grab her and hustle her outside, or better yet, throw his jacket over her and cover her up.

“Katy. Stop. You can’t go…”

She stared through him and sidestepped his outstretched arm. After dropping her books on her counsel table, she walked up to the bench to give her details to the court reporter.

How had he missed Tim at the front of the courtroom? He should have been blinded by the shock of red hair.

Mark sat down and watched Tim’s shifty eyes slide down Katy’s chest as she leaned over to sign her name. If Tim so much as laid a finger on her, he was going to grab him and shove him through the nearest wall. Katy leaned forward to whisper in Tim’s ear and her skirt hiked up high enough for Mark to catch the flash of a red garter strap.

Hell. Why couldn’t she have just worn pantyhose? Was she deliberately trying to distract him? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“All rise.”

Katy returned to her table and they stood when the judge entered the courtroom. The proceedings commenced and Mark dropped into his seat, grateful for the cover the table provided.

Katy remained standing and outlined her application for Hi-Tech to produce all relevant documents. She railed at Mark and Hi-Tech for ignoring or rejecting her previous requests and was warned by the judge to tone down her remarks.

Confident, articulate and damn sexy, she talked the judge through the documents and cases with dizzying speed. Impressive. Especially for an associate. If she hadn’t been arguing against him, Mark would have hired her on the spot.

While the judge sifted through the file, Mark’s mind drifted into his favorite fantasy. He imagined her on the judge’s desk, her skirt hiked up, her lacy garter belt exposed, her shirt unbuttoned, bra off, soft creamy breasts awaiting his pleasure. This time he took the fantasy a step further, laying her back on the judge’s desk and running his tongue…

“Mr. Richards, do you have a response?”

You bet I do.

Mark jerked back to reality and shifted his trousers to hide his response. The judge waited. Katy waited. Everyone in the courtroom waited for his answer. He recovered his composure, grabbed his file and spent fifteen minutes in arguments, ensuring Steele’s money was well spent. By the time he reached the end of his submission, Katy was visibly fuming.

“They are hiding documents,” she spluttered.

Mark ground his teeth. “My client’s representative assures me Hi-Tech has no relevant documents that have not already been disclosed.”

The judge shuffled through the papers. “If there were relevant documents, Mr. Richards, where would they be located?”

Mark grimaced. The judge had clearly decided against him. “I believe all Hi-Tech’s documents are at the head office on Broadway Street.”

The judge smiled at Katy. “I agree with Ms. Sinclair. I find it difficult to believe there are no other documents pertaining to the plaintiff’s dismissal. I’m going to rule that all the documents requested by Ms. Sinclair be produced within seven days of today. If that does not happen, then Ms. Sinclair may apply to attend at Hi-Tech’s premises for a document inspection.”

Mark slammed his file closed. The judge had been way too lenient with her. Anyone else would have seen right through her fishing expedition.

“Anything else, Ms. Sinclair?”

Katy shot Mark a sideways glance and for the barest second he caught the hint of a wicked smile. “Your Honor, the defendant’s amended pleadings are high-handed and the allegations are outrageous. Libel? Theft? Interference? It is a waste of the court’s time and our clients’ money to bring a case against the plaintiff. Defense counsel knows perfectly well my client does not have five million dollars to satisfy the damage claim, especially since his client is the one who fired her. I move to strike the amendment.”

Adrenaline rushed through Mark’s veins. Nothing fired his blood as much as a good courtroom scrap.

In response to Katy’s motion, he argued that his client had a reputation to protect, no matter how impoverished the perpetrator of the alleged libel. Further, Hi-Tech could lose billions of dollars if a competitor got access to the highly confidential information Saunders had allegedly stolen from the company.

The judge agreed.

Mark glanced over at Katy. He expected disappointment, maybe anger or resentment. She had just lost a major point in the hearing. Instead, she tossed her hair and gave him a wink. She clearly wasn’t done with him yet.

“Anything else, Ms. Sinclair?”

“Yes, Your Honor. An application to depose a witness.”

Mark frowned and sucked in his lips. An ambush.

Katy smiled. “Gotcha,” she mouthed at him.

Mark shot out of his seat. “I wasn’t given any notice of this application.”

“I apologize, Your Honor,” Katy said. “I only just found out the witness intends to leave the country on Saturday and, as a result, it is a matter of some urgency. His name is Martin Kowalski. He is a former employee of the defendant.” She outlined the importance of the witness’s evidence and handed Mark a bundle of papers.

“Mr. Richards, have you any objection?”

Mark tapped his foot. He would have to be on guard not to underestimate his little wildcat in the future. “I’m not in a position to take instructions from my client. I respectfully request an adjournment to consider the application further.”

The judge huffed. “I’m going to make the order. I don’t see how justice would be served by taking the risk that the witness leaves before an order can be made.”

Katy beamed. Mark tightened his lips and drummed his fingers on the desk. Steele would be less than pleased, but there was nothing he could have done to prevent the ambush.

The judge rushed out of the courtroom, no doubt annoyed his afternoon hearings had all overrun and it was now well into dinner time. Mark followed Tim and the court officials out the main door. The court watchers had been ushered out an hour earlier when the courthouse officially closed for the evening. He waited for Katy to join him, but when she didn’t appear he headed down the hallway to the security desk.

Time to call in a favor.