It’s an ominous sound, and I wipe my sweaty hands on the crepe material of my skirt.
Without a word to me, Midge walks around her desk and takes a seat in a feminine high-backed, executive chair done in cream leather and cherry wood. I take one of the guest chairs opposite her, thankful for the desk separating us. I can’t remember ever being this intimidated before, and that even includes Professor Loughlin standing me up in Contracts class my first year of law school and grilling me for three days straight on a case.
She stares at me now, her blue eyes not unfriendly but still on the cool side. I’ve always thought Midge Payne was a beautiful woman. I have no clue her age, probably in her mid-sixties, but you’d never guess that. I swear she looks like she could pass for late forties. This is only the second time I’ve talked to her—the first being at the firm’s Christmas party a few months ago. She wished me Merry Christmas as she handed me a bonus check.
“I have a case for you,” she says.
Her voice cracking the silence startles me so much, I practically jump in my chair. I wipe my sweaty hands again.
“Um… sure,” I say, my voice almost squeaking with unease. To my knowledge, Midge Payne has never handed a case down to a lowly first-year associate. To my knowledge, Midge Payne has never even talked to a lowly first-year associate outside of handing out Christmas bonuses.
I know most young attorneys would be thrilled to catch the eye of the senior partner of their law firm, but all I can think at this moment is she’s going to give me something I can’t handle. I don’t fit in with this group of forward thinking, radicalized, and eclectic attorneys who push the boundaries of the law and wear shredded jeans while doing it.
I don’t fit in.
Maybe I’m not even worthy to fit in, and that’s something that’s actually been weighing my conscience down.
“I need you to get over to the Raleigh Police Station. They’re bringing in Evan Scott for questioning in an alleged homicide case,” she says, tone matter of fact.
My jaw drops.
Evan Scott?
Homicide?
I can’t help it. My head swivels slowly around, my body shifting slightly until I can see behind me. I have to make sure she’s not talking to someone else.
Another attorney.
Someone better than me. Someone with more experience, which would be just about any attorney out there in The Pit. Someone who likes people better than lengthy contracts.
Even better than that, she should choose someone in one of the outer offices. Like my dad, for Pete’s sake. He’s an amazing attorney, and this is Evan Scott we’re talking about.
Sexy indie rocker with a voice that hypnotizes.
Not that it’s ever happened to me before.
But he’s like a really big deal and has risen to mega-star fame this past year. I have his first and only album and I’m dying for the next one.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice so clogged it comes out in a rasp. I give a cough to clear it. “Why me? This case is way too big for someone like me.”
Midge merely cocks her eyebrow at me, leans back in her chair, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Emma… I don’t allow anyone to work here who can’t handle any case thrown at them.”
“I work here because my dad’s a partner here,” I point out softly. Because it’s true… he got me the job.
“No, you work here because I gave the okay to hire you,” she counters. “I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think you could cut it.”
For the first time since I started here, I feel a tiny measure of belonging. Granted, it’s minute… almost infinitesimal. I have a hard time believing it as I look at this stunning woman in designer jeans with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model and the face of one as well, who is so brilliant and fierce that she has personally shaped many of the current laws in our state.
There’s no way.
But Midge appears to think otherwise. She uncrosses her arms, stands up from her desk, and says, “You need to head over there now. He’s probably already there and the longer they have him alone, the more chance he’ll talk.”
“But wait,” I blurt out as I stand up, completely wigged out by the prospect of this case. I even hold my hands out to her in a defensive posture. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never even handled a criminal case before.”
“Did you take Criminal Law in school?” she asks.
“Yes, but—”
“Criminal Practice and Procedure?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do you have immediate access to some of the best legal minds in this state if you were to call back here with questions?”
“Well, of course—”
“Then what’s the problem?” she asks in exasperation.
“It’s just… Evan Scott… I mean, this is huge. The media repercussions alone…”