Running From Fate (5 page)

Granted, she really should have seen it coming.  True, they weren’t in the same league as Los Angeles, but it was still California and the nature of the crime demanded attention, especially with the environment such a hot-button issue and politicians always gunning for re-election.  Of course, no matter what happened she’d be looking for work.  One didn’t accuse the CEO of their company from falsifying documents to obtain a valuable piece of land without losing their job
. 
It didn’t matter that the land was supposed to be protected from development.

Sarah leaned over and squeezed her knee, pulling her from her thoughts.  She smiled at her friend
and glanced to the right where the jury foreman was just coming out of a door.  The jurors filed out behind her. 

When they were all seated the judge spoke.
 
“Have you come to a decision?” she asked.

The foreman stood up, holding a piece of paper.  “We have Your Honor,” she said.

“In the case of Mitchell Haines versus the State of California, how do you find the defendant?”

The foreman kept her eyes on Mr. Haines as she spoke, “We find the defendant guilty.”

The courtroom erupted.  People shouted and pushed forward, fl
ash bulbs went off everywhere.  It was at least five minutes before the judge was able to regain control. 

“If everyone would please be seated,” she said.  “Not you Mr. Haines.”

Mitchell stood back up, his expensive lawyers on either side.

“It is the decision of this court,” the judge said.  “That you be stripped of your license and fined the sum of one million dollars.”

He nodded coolly.

“Court is adjourned.”

The circus temporarily over, people scramble
d
from their seats, the
reporters setting
up outside to catch Mitchell Haines and, probably, Mira
,
when they exited the building.
 
She stayed in her seat, reluctant to face them again.  They had barely left her alone since they had discovered her identity two weeks ago.

“Come on,” Lily said.  “You’ve got to face them sometime.”

Mira sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes.  “I know,” she said, “but I just want to be left alone so I can try and pick up the pieces of my life.”

“All right,” Sarah said as
she stood and pulled Mira with her.  “Lily and I will go first and play bodyguard.”

Lily nodded.  “The sooner we get through it the faster we can have a drink.”

“Not
me
,” Sarah reminded her
.  “I’m pregnant.”

“Fine,” Lily said, “but I still want a
nice expensive
glass of wine and I’m sure Mira does too.”

“Just as long as we go someplace that serves food.  I’m starving.”

The willowy blond and the curvy black-haired woman linked arms and walked toward the doors, arguing the whole time.

Mira grinned and followed them.  There was no one like her two best friends to pull her
from a funk.  Lily and Sarah were already out the door when she felt someone walking up behind her
and turned around.  How he had managed to get away from his lawyer and any media straggles she didn’t know, but Mitchell Haines was all by himself. 
She
glanced around the room, looking for anyone else, but they were alone.  Her instincts kicked in as he got closer, telling her to flee, but she ignored them and straightened her spine
. 
She would not be intimidated.

He passed within mere feet of her, keeping his gaze forward.

Mira breathed a sigh of relief and her shoulders started to relax when he stopped and turned.  His eyes were brown and she had always thought they were kind of lackluster, but not now.  Today they were completely emotionless and ice cold, yet she had a feeling they concealed some dark, terrifying emotion.
  For what seemed like an eternity she was frozen, pined to the spot by his gaze.  She shivered.

As quickly as he had looked at her, he turned and started forward again, disappearing out the door.

Mira shook herself and followed suit, allowing the warm sunlight to banish the last of her chills.

By the time she left the restaurant with Lily and Sarah, stomach content and a couple of glasses of wine lending a glow to the early evening sky, she had put the creepy encounter with Mitchell Haines off to simple nerves and was ready to move on with her life.

She told Lily and Sarah the exact same thing the next morning when she urged them to return to their normal lives.  It had been wonderful having her best friends there for support, but now she ju
st needed a little time alone to
unwind and take stock of where she was.

The very next week, as
Mira
was working on a sketch in her top-floor studio
,
a knock sounded on the door.
  Laying her charcoal aside, she stretched her arms above her head, trying to get the kinks out, and jogged down the two flights of stairs.  Pulling the door open, she saw a tall, balding man in an impeccably tailored gray suit.  He looked a bit familiar although she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she had seen him before.  “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mira Anders?”

“Yes.”

“This is for you.”  He reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.  As soon as she took it, he turned on his heel and walked to a shiny black Lexus that was parked by the curb.

Mira shook her head and shut the door.  Crossing the bright, tiled foyer, she turned left, through a wide arch, and entered the open kitchen and dining area. 
She laid the letter on the marble-topped breakfast bar and went to pour herself a cup of coffee.  The correct amount of cream and sugar added, she slid onto one of the padded barstools, sat the cup on a coaster, and opened the envelope.

For a few seconds she could barely make sense of what she was looking at.  She skimmed through the sheets hoping that she had read it wrong, but she hadn’t.  J&J Architectural Company — well Mitchell Haines — was suing her for breach of contract.
 

She put the papers down, chugged her coffee, and went for another cup, hoping to stimulate her lagging brain cells.  There had to be something she could do, she thought as she sipped her
second cup.  Her boss was a criminal, a jury of his peers had found him guilty, surely he couldn’t sue her for turning him in.

Just to be on the safe side she picked a lawyer from the phone book and asked for a consultation.  He agreed to see her immediately so she climbed to her second-floor bedroom, exchanged her shorts and t-shirt for a pencil skirt and simple
green blouse, and headed into the city.

Barely fifteen minutes after she entered the office she knew exactly why he had been able to see her
so
quickly as he hung up the phone and faced her.

“Mrs. Anders,” he said.

“My husband died many years ago,” she said.  “I’d prefer it if you called me Ms.”

“Ms. Anders,” he corrected.  “I just got off the phone with Mr.
Haine
s
’
lawyer, well of
f the phone with
one
of the members of
his
legal
team, should I say.”

“And,” Mira prodded.

“You did sign a confidentiality agreement when you went to work for J&J Architectural, did you not?”

“Well yes
, but under the circumstances I
wouldn’t think that would be an
issue.  I was acting as a concerned citizen and in the best interest of both California law and the environment.  Surely, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on?”

The man across from her ran his hand through his bleached blond hair, in what was obviously a practiced move and adopted a pedantic, condescending tone of voice.  “Normally, I’m sure you would be right,” he said, “but.”  He held up a finger when she opened her mouth.  “The fact of the matter is that you did sign the agreement and Mr. Haines has some very high priced lawyers on his side.”

“Ok, so I just need my own lawyer then.”  She looked at him pointedly.

He examined his well-manicured nails.  “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to represent you.”

“Well why not?”
she demanded. 
She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“Now how do I put this?”  He paused and tilted his head, as if considering.  “It wouldn’t be good for my bottom line.”

“I’ve got money,” Mira said.  Well, she still had some of the inheritance her parents had left her and a bit in savings.

“It has nothing to do with money,” he assured her.

Mira uncrossed her arms, some of her anger fleeing.  “They didn’t threaten you, did they?”

He raised a sc
ulpted eyebrow.  “Of course not,” he said.  “
Carter, Stevens & Weston wouldn’t lower themselves to do such a thing, but I have no wish to get on their bad side.  Especially, if I ever hope to gain any lucrative referrals from them.”

Mira stood up and leaned over the desk.  “Why you greedy, spineless…”

“If that’s all
Ms.
Anders,” he interrupted.  “I have
work
to do.”

It took her the rest of the afternoon to find a lawyer who was willing to take her case.  She didn’t blame most of them because, unlike the first slimy man she had gone to see, they seemed to have better motives for refusing her.

A few of them felt they didn’t have the pull, as it
were
, or the resources to go against Mr. Mitchell’s lawyers.  Several more did actually seem afraid of being blacklisted.  Finally, as the
first rush of humanity began to trickle from the high towers and squat office buildings, she walked in the doors of Stanton & Jones.

The lobby exuded quiet, understated elegance as did the middle aged receptionist in his simple, but obviously expensive grey suit.

“We’re almost ready to close for the day,” he told her.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

Mira smoothed her hair, hoping it was still in the neat bun she had put it in, but terribly afraid it looked more like a bird’s nest.  “Yes,” she said.  “I’d like to speak to someone.  Today if possible.”

“That just won’t be possible.”  He glanced at a nearby computer screen.  “Although I can set you up with an appointment for early next month if that suits.
 
I’m afraid we’re all booked until then.
”  He offered her an apologetic smile and then looked at her more closely.  “Wait a minute,” he said as his eyes went wide.  “You’re Mira Anders.”

“Yes.”

“Wait right here.”  He pointed to an elegant conversation grouping as he picked up the phone.  “Someone will be right down to take you up.”

Moments later that ‘someone’ came striding across the lobby in two inch heels and a classy skirt suit in bombshell red.  Despite the woman’s obvious age, as evidenced by her
impeccably
styled but graying hair, she pulled it off.

Perhaps, Mira mused as she stood up and offered her hand
, it
was the attitude. 

“Elizabeth Stanton,” the woman said.  She shook Mira’s hand and stepped back.