I show up at the office and keep my head down. I do as I’m told the way I’m told. I try to absorb as much as I can from Jerry, one of the old-timers whose unenviable job it is to show me the ropes. I hope the guy has good life insurance. I joked about that once with him. He didn’t laugh.
Cora hasn’t been in the office much the past few weeks. She visits Vera in the hospital pretty regularly. So does Beau. Now that he’s out of jail after being accused of shooting Vera. That guy’s luck is as shit as mine. No. Shittier. Way shittier. I’ve never been in jail for anything, let alone been accused of hurting the woman I love—twice. That’s some powerfully bad karma he’s carrying around. When I think about all he’s been through, I can’t feel too sorry for myself. If I don’t think about how he wouldn’t have gone to jail that second time if not for me and how Vera wouldn’t have gotten shot and how her sister wouldn’t be dead.
Yeah. I try not to think about that. I do my job. I put in my best effort. I pray it’ll be enough. Maybe one of these days it will be. I’m not sure why I’m here except that Cora’s not around a lot and there’s a ton of work that needs to get done. I owe her that at least. Whatever she asks, I do. Take out the trash—it’s out. Run a few copies—they’re done. Pick up lunch—I get the order exactly right. All I have to offer is my best effort. What happens after that is a complete and utter mystery. Could be good. Could be bad. Who knows? It’s me we’re talking about.
I’m running a computer search for a client—a job Beau held for a while before the shooting—when Cora walks in, muttering over the open file in her hands. She’s really pretty, like the “make you drop your sandwich and stare like an idiot” kind of pretty. She doesn’t even know it. That makes her sexier. Even if she weren’t my boss, she’d be way off-limits to me. She’s dating the son of the owner of the agency. I don’t even exist to her on any level except employee. That’s okay though. I’d screw that up too. She’s not the kind of person you mess around with casually. She’s an all-in kind of woman. The kind you marry and never cheat on. Her boyfriend is a lucky son of bitch and he knows it.
“You almost done with that search?” she asks me.
All I get is the top of her blue and black streaked head. I can’t help but stare at her when she’s not looking. Leaning back a little in my chair, I crane my neck to check out her legs in the skirt she’s wearing. Nice. High heels look good on her, making her legs longer somehow. It’s one of those tricks only women know that make a man forget his name and apparently the question they’ve just been asked.
“Nolan?”
Shit. My gaze snaps up to hers. Busted. “Ah, yeah. Just about.”
“Good. I have something here I want you to take a look at.”
My mind spins her innocent words into something lurid. I give myself a stern lecture about workplace decorum and about not horning in on another guy’s woman. That’s not cool. That’s not who I am or who I want to be. I just wish my boss were a little less hot.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask.
She slides the folder she’s holding in front of me and leans in with a hand on my desk. “The Freedom Project sent these cases over for our review. Every year we choose one and work it pro bono. I wish we could work on them all.” She sighs. “I see Beau in every face and it’s hard to say no. I need an objective opinion.”
She separates the three pages, spreading them across my desk. Her arm brushes mine briefly and I instinctively flinch away. If she notices it doesn’t show in her face. All of her focus is on the papers in front of her. There’s a crease between her brows and her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth. This is important to her. Even if I didn’t know her brother’s story, I’d know it in the look on her face and how she touches the black-and-white mug shots of the three incarcerated people staring back at her.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Read the case summaries and the notes from the Freedom Project’s staff. We need to choose one and I just can’t decide. It feels like I’m handing down a sentence to the other two if I don’t select them.”
And she thinks I won’t get the same feeling? I glance up at her.
“We’re not,” she amends. “Their cases will get handled by another PI firm, but it won’t be us, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I get it. That makes me feel better about choosing.” That’s a lie. I’m lousy at making decisions. She should already know this about me.
“Have a look and let me know what you think. I need to get back to them by the end of the day.”
“Sure thing.”