A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (31 page)

"Keep me updated on it. Let me know if you need help."
 

"Sure," Lindsey said. "Was there something weird between Ms. Tisdale and Mr. Bryant?"
 

Sam barked a laugh. "Yeah, that nitwit lawyer Lara Petrie was sucking up to Bryant, trying to get a seat on the editorial board. She's been the one whispering in his ear about how this arena is the next best thing to sliced bread. He forgot that Maggie's friends with
Mrs
. Bryant. Maggie put a stop to that nonsense."

Lindsey mulled that over. Why was Lara Petrie so invested in the arena? Or was she just using that as an entrée to the editorial board, flirting with the publisher and using the arena issue to kiss up to him? She shook her head at the politics going on just two floors above her desk. Is this what her dad put up with all day as managing editor of the Press-Herald? Ignorance was truly bliss in this instance.
 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of rewrites, meetings with the photo and graphics editors, and a brief appearance in front of the editorial board. By the time Lindsey walked out of the newspaper building, it was nearly eight o'clock. She drove straight to Kathleen's house to pick up Steve.
 

The aroma of Kath's homemade tomato sauce hit Lindsey as she walked in the front door and reminded her that she'd forgotten to eat lunch in her rush to get the story done. Her nose led her straight to the kitchen, where Kath was standing over the stove.

"I'm so glad you got here. I'm starving. You can tell me why you're so late while we eat."
 

"I thought you and Dave would have eaten already," Lindsey said, dropping her satchel on the floor and scratching Steve's ears.
 

"He's working late," Kath said, dishing up two plates of pasta. "Huge drama at the office today."
 

Lindsey's stomach rumbled as she sat at the kitchen counter where Kath had set out two place settings. She grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and tore off a chunk, sharing it with Steve, who sat at her feet.
 

"What happened?" she asked, her mind more on the plate of food Kath set in front of her. Her eyes closed as she breathed in the heavenly scent of the steaming tomato sauce.
 

Kath put a large bowl of salad on the counter and came around to sit next to Lindsey. "Oh, man, I don't even know where to start," she said. "Ben got fired this morning."
 

Lindsey choked on the bread and Kath pounded her on the back, then poured her a glass of water.
 

"What? Fired? Why?" Lindsey managed to croak.
 

Kath's eyes were sympathetic. "I don't know what's going on. Dave called me around noon, but he couldn't talk. He was going into a partners' meeting and he sounded so serious. Something bad is going on, I'm sure of it."
 

Her appetite had vanished. "But why did they fire Ben?"

Was it because of her? Because of her investigation of the bonds or the properties? Did Bear O'Bannion get tipped off and tell Frank Derry? Could Gregory Stanton have figured out they saw him at the cabin?
 

Her chest constricted and she struggled to draw a breath. Every time she entered Ben's life, she seemed to make it a little worse. Or, in this case, a lot worse. She was like a curse. No, she flat out
was
a curse.
 

At Kath's urging, she managed to eat a few bites of her dinner and tell her friend about the drama in the newsroom, but her mind was preoccupied with the thought of Ben getting fired.
 

Dave was still at work when Lindsey left the Hogans' house at ten o'clock, exhausted and worried sick that she'd somehow managed to have the best day of her career, yet possibly ruined someone else's career in the process. Someone whom she cared for very much, even if he didn't appear to share the sentiment.

She opened the car door and Steve jumped into the passenger seat, ready to go home. Lindsey threw her bag onto the back seat and started to climb in. On the street, headlights caught her attention and she watched a black SUV passing slowly past the house, the driver obscured by the bright headlights and tinted windows. The brake lights flashed as the vehicle rolled up to the stop sign on the corner, and Lindsey tensed, fighting the impulse to run back into the house.
 

The SUV turned left and she took a deep breath. It was just a neighbor, she told herself, watching the red lights disappear down the block. She gritted her teeth and climbed into the car.
 

Pulling onto the street, she glanced in her rearview mirror but saw no one behind her.
 

Just hours ago, she'd been riding high on the praise from Sam and Margaret Tisdale and reporters who were patting her on the back as her story was edited and polished for publication. Through all the high points today, there was only one person she wanted to share it with—Ben. And while she was enjoying her success, he was getting fired.
 

She longed to go to him and tell him she was sorry. She was sorry she got him messed up in her problems and sorry that it probably led to his firing. She remembered the last time they talked at Hunter Lake. Guilt crashed down on her at the memory of the wounded look on his face when he realized that she had suspected he could be involved. She realized now that her suspicions had been stupid. But it was too late. She couldn't go to him—not to celebrate or offer her sympathies. Not even to say she was sorry. There was no way he'd accept her apology. Not after all this.

Now it was just her—a girl and her dog. She reached over and laid her hand on Steve's soft fur. He nuzzled her with his cold nose.
 

She drove home along the dark streets, her nerves frayed, her heart empty.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ben sat in the threadworn chair across from the blue-haired receptionist, Tasha. She'd added a streak of deep purple to her hair since he'd met her a few weeks earlier. The unnatural color flattered her porcelain skin, though he preferred a more natural look, in particular, a certain blonde, green-eyed look. He struggled to put Lindsey out of his head, a task that had become more difficult since he'd decided he couldn't see her.
 

Tasha caught him staring at her and gave him a cool appraising look with eyes lined in heavy, dark makeup.

"He'll be back from court any minute now," she said. "Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water? A beer?"

"It's ten a.m., so I'll pass on the beer," Ben said. "I'm fine, thanks."
 

She shrugged and went back to work.
 

He couldn't believe he was back at Fields Law Group. At least, not for this reason. He had hoped maybe he'd be back negotiating for a job, now that he was unemployed. But he wasn't here to talk about employment. He needed a lawyer.
 

The front door burst open and Jude Fields sailed through, tossing a file folder on Tasha's desk.
 

"How'd it go?" she asked, still looking at the screen.
 

"Draft that subpoena, Tasha. We're going to have a fight on our hands," Jude said, heading toward his office door, then stopping as he caught sight of Ben in the waiting area. "Oh, hey, Ben. Sorry, it's been one of those mornings."

Ben stood and shook Jude's hand. "I can come back later," he started to say, but Jude cut him off.
 

"Hell, no. Come on in. Not like it ever slows down here, anyway," Jude said, motioning Ben toward the open door to his office. "At least it's never boring. Tash, is there coffee?"

"In the kitchen," she said.
 

Jude grinned. "Not going to get it for me?"

"No." She continued typing, never looking up from the computer.
 

Jude shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over a chair. "She never does. Want anything?"

Ben declined the offer and Jude disappeared into the back of the law firm's first floor, pushing past a swinging door. Tasha got up and retrieved Jude's jacket from the chair and placed it on a hanger in the closet, then took the file and walked to the cabinets behind her desk. Tasha's desk was the tidiest he'd ever seen—a blank pad of message slips, a stack of messages written in a neat handwriting, a glass vase that held a dozen identical pens. Everything was squared off and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. It was a tiny island of order in the otherwise chaotic office.
 

Jude returned through the swinging door with a steaming mug of coffee and ushered Ben into his office. As Ben sat, Jude looked for a place to set his cup on the cluttered desk. Tasha stepped up and whisked away a stack of folders and papers and disappeared back into the lobby, leaving the door open. Jude reached into a desk drawer, took an envelope out and slid it across his desk to Ben.
 

"What's this?" Ben asked.
 

"Employment offer," Jude said. "We can talk about the terms, but I think they're fair. It's not going to be like working at Stanton & Lowe, but on the other hand, you won't have to work at Stanton & Lowe."
 

Ben's stomach twisted as he took out the documents and confirmed that it was indeed an offer to work at Fields Law Group. He glanced at the salary figure on the first page and was pleasantly surprised. Less than what he'd been making, but not by that much. Unfortunately, the offer in his hands was going to disappear in a puff of smoke once he told Jude that he'd been fired.
 

"I appreciate this, but that's not why I'm here."
 

"What do you mean? You got canned from Stanton & Lowe. You're free to take this."
 

"You already heard about that?"
 

Jude laughed. "Of course," he said. "Don't worry, it doesn't reflect poorly on you. It makes them look like fucking idiots."
 

It was bad enough that the legal community knew he'd been fired already. But that was the least of Ben's problems now. He slid the papers back into the envelope and set it on the desk.
 

"Been fired before?" Jude asked.
 

"No. Never."

"It's a rite of passage. Was it Stanton who fired you? That's a badge of honor if anything," he said with a grin.
 

"No, it was Lowe. And it doesn't feel like an honor."
 

"I got fired from two jobs before I went out on my own. It was the best thing that ever happened to me," Jude said with a shrug. "Besides, I hear your former firm is about to implode."
 

"What do you mean?"

"I heard there's been a walk-out of a good number of the partners and staff," he said.
 

In the past two days, Ben had dodged Dave and Gordo's increasingly worried calls. He dreaded having to relive his firing with his two friends and just needed some time to get a new plan. Maybe a new job. He finally sent them both text messages telling them he was taking a couple days away and would get back to them soon. But surely one of them would have tracked him down if the firm were folding.
 

"Did you talk to Dave?"

Jude gave him a small smile and shook his head. Ben got the impression that he wasn't going to give up his source.
 

"Haven't spoken to him and I don't have any other details," Jude said, then took a sip of the coffee. "So are you ready to talk about a job?"
 

Ben would have loved to be sitting in Jude's office talking about a job. Since meeting with Jude last time, Ben had learned more about the firm and liked what he found. Jude Fields had two partners. In addition to Fiona Larkin, he’d recruited Lawrence Daly, a former public defender. They chose cases carefully but weren't afraid to take on hopeless causes. They'd recently won a large age-discrimination verdict against a defense contractor on behalf of several employees who alleged they'd been fired just as they'd approached retirement. Most of the articles about Jude Fields were related to his representation of criminal defendants, though he was rarely quoted. Here, too, he seemed to specialize in high profile cases.
   

Once that seed had been planted in his mind, working at Fields Law Group was all he wanted to do with his career. It was similar to how once he started thinking about Lindsey, she was the only woman he wanted. But he was pretty sure Jude, or any other firm in the city, wouldn't want to hire him if he knew the details of the mess at Stanton & Lowe. Just like he was sure Lindsey deserved better than an unemployed personal injury lawyer.

"That’s not exactly why I’m here," Ben said. "I mean, yes, I need to find a job. But more pressing, I may need a lawyer."
 

Jude set his mug down on the now cleared desk and leaned forward. "Why do you think you need a lawyer?"

Ben paused before answering and Jude held up a hand. "Yes, anything you tell me is covered by attorney-client confidentiality and will not be repeated."
 

"I know," Ben said. "I'm just not sure that covers me. Let's just say, hypothetically, that an attorney learned that another attorney in his firm was cheating a client."
 

Jude nodded, his expression serious. "The attorney would have a duty of loyalty to the client of the firm and would have to inform him of the fraud."
 

"Right. But what if the attorney also learned that the client had done something illegal himself, which had allowed the hypothetical attorney to do the fraud."

Jude leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, pressing his fingers together. "That would be covered by the attorney-client privilege."
 

A tiny tapping sound came from the lobby and Fiona's dog trotted into Jude's office. She wagged her tail and jumped up onto the upholstered chair next to Ben, her chin resting on the arm and her dark eyes watching him.
 

"You're not allergic to dogs, are you?" Jude asked.