In Safe Keeping (25 page)

‘Evan?’

He kept walking.

He’d lost Laila. He’d lost his family, and it was only a matter of time now until he lost his job at Poole Greenwood. Not since he was nine years old had he been so alone in the world.

He could feel Marcie’s eyes on him, knew she was trailing him as he strode towards the front door, wrenched it open and jogged down the front steps.

She was still on the front porch, hand raised in farewell, as he started the car, pulled into the driveway and headed for home.

11 a.m. Saturday

It had been days since Laila had taken the time to exercise, if you didn’t count fighting off an attacker, making love to Evan, and the emotional energy expended yesterday.

Now, as she neared the end of her usual walking route along the beach and over the hill, she tried to push past the heaviness in her legs, the stitch in her side, the almost constant throb in her temples. Coaxing her reluctant body to move at its usual pace had depleted her energy stores to the point where, with luck, she’d be able to sleep for a while this afternoon.

But as she came in the front gate, breathing heavily, puffy eyes hidden behind dark glasses, her mind continued to whirl with the events of the last couple of days.

She sighed, knowing sleep would elude her until some hard decisions had been made. Decisions she couldn’t put off any longer.

She and Scarlett Peyton had to part ways. She simply couldn’t allow someone capable of blackmail to be the patron of the Blackhawk Foundation.

Scarlett had paid money into her office on account of costs, and though it probably didn’t cover all the work Laila had done, it went close. And close was enough. She wouldn’t render another account.

Mind made up, Laila scrolled through her contact list and rang her client, steeling herself and trying not to think of the tantrum the woman had thrown the other day.

Scarlett picked up almost immediately. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, it’s Laila Richards calling.’

There was a brief pause, then ‘Have they made a counter offer?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Laila rolled her eyes. Of course that would be the first thing the woman would ask.

She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking things over since the mediation last Thursday, and I don’t believe I’m the best person to act in your interests anymore. I’d like you to come by my office first thing Monday morning and pick up your file.’

She wanted to add that maybe Evan Barclay could recommend another lawyer, but that would make her bitchy and petty and unprofessional, and she wanted to keep her good name intact. A slur from Scarlett Peyton could do a lot of damage in this town.

‘Are you serious?’ Scarlett’s voice vibrated with anger. ‘You’re dumping
me?’

The woman sounded like a jilted lover.

Laila swallowed, her throat dry. ‘I’m uncomfortable with the allegations you made against your husband with the hope of substantially increasing your share of the matrimonial assets.’

‘You’re
uncomfortable?’
The woman screeched, causing Laila to hold the phone away from her ear and switch it onto loud speaker. ‘You’re my bloody lawyer, you’re not supposed to be comfortable. You’re supposed to be getting me the best settlement you can.’

‘I agreed to get you a
fair
settlement, and all fairness ceased to exist last Thursday. I won’t be party to blackmail.’

Scarlett went to say something, but Laila cut her off. ‘Please collect your file from my office on Monday, so you can go about finding alternative representation.’

She killed the call, stood looking down at the phone in her hand. It was done. She was free of the Peyton case.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Laila walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of water and stood looking out into her small backyard. She’d been so excited when Scarlett had first contacted her. She’d taken the case in good faith, expecting a flow of other referrals and envisaging benefits for her foundation. But in reality, her client had thumbed her nose at the mediation process, and at Laila, with her threats of blackmail. There was nothing else she could do but put the matter behind her.

Putting Evan Barclay behind her would prove an even greater challenge.

Her heart physically ached, cramping in her chest with an intensity that took her breath. Despite her anger, her conscience kept reminding her of all the good things he’d done. Saving Mike from the fire was a heroic act, and bringing Luke Neilson on board had resulted in Jason Moulder’s arrest. Evan had taken an active role in that too, lying in wait with the patience of a predator until Moulder walked into his ambush.

But his help on the class action didn’t make up for his betrayal on the Peyton case, or the fact that he’d manipulated her, something she’d vowed would never happen again. Strangely, the only thing that gave her comfort was their six-week affair prior to the start of the Peyton case.

At least that part had been real.

Laila put her glass on the bench, went into the bedroom and opened the lid of the jewellery box her paternal grandmother had left her. According to distant aunts and cousins, her grandmother was the family member Laila most resembled. Throat closing over, she slid the rings off her right hand and placed them in a separate compartment of the jewellery box.

She was closing the lid when the doorbell rang, its familiar E to C melody echoing throughout the house.

Thinking it was probably Dickson come to give her an update, Laila hurried into the hallway. But when she opened the door, Grind was standing there, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

‘I heard the fighting last night. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

An embarrassed flush warmed Laila’s face and she put a hand to her pounding forehead. ‘I’m sorry you had to hear that.’

‘I couldn’t understand what you were saying, but I saw Barclay leave.’

Laila raised her eyebrows. As far as she knew Grind had never met Evan. ‘Barclay?’

He shrugged. ‘He used to play rugby.’

Laila turned with a groan and went into the kitchen. Flopping into a chair, she rested her forehead on her folded arms and closed her eyes. ‘I have a headache.’

There was silence, then a hesitant ‘I’ll make the coffee.’

Grind’s goodhearted offer to do something simple, give her something he knew she enjoyed, finally broke the dam, and Laila was too exhausted to stem the flow of tears that seeped from her eyes and dripped on the table. Head pounding, she drew in several uneven breaths, heard the gurgle of the coffee maker, felt the touch of Grind’s hand on her back.

Eventually she stopped, coaxed out of her misery by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee somewhere close to her nose.

Sitting up, she winced as her head gave one almighty throb, and reached for the wad of tissues Grind offered. ‘Thanks. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s your house, you can cry if you want to.’

She smiled at his lame attempt to cheer her up and wrapped her hands around the warm mug. ‘I’ve had a bad week.’

‘The detective who came this morning said they got in my laundry window. I’m really sorry, Laila.’

Laila reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘It’s all right. The people who broke in here are professionals. They would have found another way in. You just made it easy for them.’

Even so, he watched her with worried eyes as she sipped her coffee.

‘I feel bad that I laughed when you showed me the insulation.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up.’ Laila pushed her hair behind her ears and wiped her eyes with the tissues. ‘He’s in police custody now.’

Moulder was no longer a problem and, according to Evan, Dickson Cross believed John Holt was either dead or had left town.

Suddenly, Laila felt another weight lift from her shoulders. As of Monday, the class action would be filed, and Scarlett Peyton would be out of her life. Maybe things would then return to normal — not that she knew what that was anymore.

Evan had become her ‘normal’.

‘I guess you won’t be coming to the gig tonight then?’ Grind was saying.

Laila blinked. She’d forgotten all about the gig.

Again.

She was about to say she could do with an early night, but one look at Grind’s crestfallen face and she found herself saying, ‘I’m coming, but only if the music’s so loud I won’t be able to hear myself think.’

‘You got it!’ Grind’s face broke into a smile. ‘You can sit at the table reserved for the band. That way, you won’t get hit on.’

‘Thanks, I think.’ Laila gave a wry smile. ‘I’ll look like the big sister come to watch her little brother play.’

‘That’s alright. They’ve cleaned the pub up a lot. It’s not nearly as seedy as it used to be.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Laila shook her head and pretended to be disappointed. ‘I was looking forward to getting groped on my way to the bar.’

He laughed, then asked if she could be ready by six.

A few minutes later, Laila was seeing him out the front door.

Determined to keep her mind occupied, she headed off to wash her hair, forcing herself to think about what she could wear tonight.

This was the first day of the rest of her life, and she was determined to make it count. And if a couple of glasses of wine and a few hours of ‘80s cock rock would put Evan out of her mind for a short while, then she was all for it.

5 p.m. Saturday

Allegra glanced at Luke as he pulled the car into the curb outside her office. Up ahead, the Pitt Street Mall crawled with late-Saturday-afternoon shoppers and an eclectic mix of street performers.

‘It’s a shame this weekend hasn’t turned out as planned.’ They’d been going to drive a little way down the coast, towards Bateman’s Bay and Mollymook, but Laila Richard’s problem with the military, and Evan’s call last night, had sabotaged what plans they’d had.

She sighed. ‘When I left on Thursday, I never imagined I’d be back so soon.’

‘That’s what happens when you’re a partner.’ Luke draped his arm across the back of her seat and Allegra took a few moments to admire the broad expanse of chest and the bulging bicep close to her shoulder. She would have given anything to stay curled up on the lounge beside her hunky husband.

Luke smiled, the silver slash on his cheek moving. ‘As long as we have a bed and food, I don’t care where we are.’

‘In that order?’

‘Definitely in that order.’

Allegra turned her head and pressed her lips to that hard bicep. Luke had spent so much time in Iraq and Afghanistan, he was happy anywhere that wasn’t a war zone.

‘I shouldn’t be long. I’ll say my bit and leave Simon to make the decision. He’s the principal partner, after all.’

‘Still inclined to go in to bat for Barclay?’

‘Absolutely. Evan Barclay has success written all over him. He’s more than just the Peytons.’

‘Hey, careful.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned closer. ‘I’m getting a bit jealous here.’

‘No need.’ She smiled and stroked her thumb along his chin. Somehow, Luke Neilson was sexier than when she’d first met him three and half years ago. ‘Will you be in the coffee shop?’

‘Yep. Reading the paper, close on hand in case your temperature spikes. I don’t want you jumping any random guy in the street.’

She pressed a kiss to his warm mouth. ‘I’ll be sure to call you, commander. Just keep that mobile phone handy.’

His silver eyes turned serious. ‘If it’s meant to be, Ally, it’s meant to be.’

She nodded. ‘The doctor says we’re both fine, Luke. It’s my fault. Too much stress. He said it will happen, eventually.’

‘Just let nature takes its course.’ He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. ‘Go on counsellor, before I turn this machine around and take you right back home.’

Allegra climbed out of the car and walked towards the building, watching as Luke’s AMG gave a throaty growl and disappeared around the corner.

Five minutes later she was standing outside Simon Poole’s office.

‘Come in,’ he said in answer to her rap on the door.

The man who’d been her mentor since day one looked up from his desk, tall frame folded into the green high-backed leather chair, his silver hair cropped short. He was dressed casually, as if he might have played a round of golf earlier in the day. Now, he gave her a resigned smile and waved her into a chair.

As she always did, Allegra chose the left one.

‘Heard anything more?’ he asked as she took a seat.

‘Nothing since he phoned last night.’

Simon leaned back in his chair and looked at her across the vast expanse of polished desk. ‘He didn’t say what happened between him and the Peytons?’

Allegra shook her head. ‘Just that they’d parted ways, and he thought it was the right thing to do to let us know.’

Simon folded his hands across his stomach. ‘So he’s just lost his biggest client, the reason we hired him? Were they unhappy with his work?’

‘I wouldn’t imagine so. He’s too good.’

‘Do you think it has something to do with the marriage break-up?’

Allegra thought back to her conversations with Evan over the last week. The request for extra staff to prepare financial statements for the Peyton mediation. The restaurant visit concerning the attack on Laila and her problems with the military.

‘I’m not sure. He’s had a lot on his plate recently.’

‘Haven’t we all?’

Simon’s frustration was understandable. The firm had suffered a lot of upheaval in the past couple of years, but since Evan had come on board things had started to look up.

Now they had to decide if he still had a future.

Simon flicked through the Contract of Employment on the desk in front of him. ‘I’ve had a look at the figures. Removing a senior salary from the company’s outgoings will save us money. Maybe we should think about replacing him with a junior solicitor.’

Allegra said nothing.

After a few moments Simon looked up. ‘I’m taking it you don’t agree.’

‘I don’t. He’s heading up the commercial division. And he can work autonomously. A junior won’t be able to do that.’

‘But he won’t make the targets set out in his contract, not without the Peytons’ work.’