See Me Read online

  She'd been surprised by that, but then, she'd been surprised by almost everything in the last seven years. The world might view her as a young, home-owning professional, but there were moments when she felt like she was faking the whole thing. Part of it was financial--after paying her bills at the end of the month, she had less spending money than she'd had as a teenager--but the other part was that most of her friends from college were already married, and some of them already had kids. When she talked to them, most came across as completely content, as though their lives were unfolding exactly as they'd planned, while she, on the other hand, had a sex-crazed boss, a condo she could barely afford, and a younger sister who seemed simultaneously wiser and more carefree than Maria was. If this was adulthood, she wondered now why she'd been in such a rush to grow up in the first place.

  For the next hour, she pulled steadily at the paddle, the board gliding forward as she did her best to enjoy her surroundings. She noted the slowly shifting clouds and the trees reflected in the water. She concentrated on the salty fresh scent of the breeze and basked in the warmth of the sun on her arms and shoulders. Every now and then she snapped a photograph, including a good one of an osprey clasping a fish in its talons as it rose from the water. It was too shadowed in the viewfinder and a little too distant, but with enough work in Photoshop, it might be something worth keeping.

  When she finally returned home, she showered and poured herself a glass of wine, then sat in a rocking chair she'd placed in the small confines of her rear porch. She watched people as they walked along Market Street, idly wondering what their lives were like. She liked to invent stories about them--That one's probably visiting from New York, or I'll bet that mom is taking her kids out for ice cream. It was a harmless, relaxing capstone to a weekend that had its share of both highs and lows.

  Like the blown tire. Which reminded her that she'd have to run out tomorrow to get it replaced. But when? She knew that while she'd been out of the office at the conference, Barney had filled her inbox with work. They also had two important meetings in the afternoon, which wasn't going to make it easy. Nor did she have any idea what Ken's next move would be.

  The sense of dread intensified the following morning, when she spotted Ken speaking with Barney in his office while she chatted with Lynn, the voluptuous, though less than efficient, paralegal assigned to Barney's team. Ken and Barney often met before the Monday morning meeting, but what was unusual was that after Ken left Barney's office, he'd simply nodded at her without smiling before striding down the hallway. Part of her was relieved by the brevity of the encounter, but at the same time, the sudden frosty professionalism left a bad feeling in her stomach, because it no doubt meant he was angry at her.

  A few minutes later, Jill poked her head in to apologize for the blind date, clearly mortified. They talked for a few minutes--Jill was heading out of town for the rest of the week for depositions--and Maria repeated to Jill the story she'd told Serena about her flat tire and the stranger who had rescued her, which only made Jill feel even worse.

  As soon as Jill left, Maria started calling garages, trying to find someplace close where she could get her tire changed after work, but soon discovered that all of them would be closed by the time she arrived. Her only option was to try to get it done over her lunch hour. It took six attempts before she was finally able to snag an appointment at half past noon--cutting it close for the initial client meeting at one thirty. She warned Barney that she might be a few minutes late getting back. He frowned but told her to do her best, emphasizing that her presence was important. She left the office at a quarter to twelve, hoping that the mechanics would be able to start early.

  But they didn't start early. Nor did they even start on time. In the end, she spent the next hour waiting, alternating between panic and slowly mounting fury, making calls to Barney's secretary and the paralegal, as well as to Barney's cell phone. It wasn't until after two that she was finally able to reclaim her car and speed back to the office. By the time she reached the conference room, the meeting had been in progress for nearly forty-five minutes. An icy stare from Barney signaled his displeasure, belying his slow, easy drawl as he welcomed her into the conference room.

  After the meeting, she apologized profusely to Barney. He was clearly irate; gone was any trace of the friendly grandfather that clients were accustomed to. Things remained tense between them for the rest of the afternoon. It was no better the following day, and pouring herself into the various tasks at hand, Maria caught up on the matters she'd ignored while at the conference, in addition to preparing the documents she knew Barney needed for a trial the following week. She labored past midnight on both Monday and Tuesday, and with Jill out of the office, she worked through her lunch hours all week, eating takeout at her desk while toiling on various briefs. Barney apparently didn't notice or care, and it wasn't until Thursday that his icy demeanor began to thaw.

  Later that afternoon, however--as she was finishing up a conversation with Barney in his office concerning an insurance claim that they both strongly suspected was fraudulent--she heard a voice behind her. Looking up, she saw Ken standing in the doorway.

  "Excuse me," he said, addressing them both but mainly focusing on Barney. "Would you mind if I spoke to Maria for a moment?"

  "Not at all," Barney drawled. He nodded at Maria. "Give them a ring and let them know that we'll need to set a conference call for tomorrow."

  "Absolutely. I'll let you know what they say," Maria responded. She could feel Ken staring at her, could feel the tightness in her chest as she turned to face him. By then, Ken had already turned to leave, and without a word, she followed him down the hallway and through the reception area. Her feet dragged when she realized he was heading toward his office. As they approached, his secretary averted her gaze.

  Ken held the door open for her, then closed it behind him. All business now, he moved behind his desk and gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite. He gazed out the window before finally turning to face her.

  "Barney mentioned to me that you missed an important client meeting on Monday."

  "I didn't miss it. I was late--"

  "I didn't call you here to quibble over the details," he said, cutting her off. "Would you care to explain what happened?"

  Caught off guard, Maria stammered out an admittedly pathetic account of her attempts to find a suitable garage and the events that had followed.

  When she was finished, he said nothing for a moment. "You do understand what we do here, right? And why you were hired? Our clients expect a certain level of professionalism."

  "Yes, of course I do. And I know our clients are important."

  "Did you know that Barney was thinking of allowing you the opportunity to act as lead counsel on this matter? And that you took this opportunity off the table because you felt the suddenly urgent, desperate need to change your tire during business hours?"

  Maria flushed, her thoughts spinning at this new revelation. "No, he didn't mention that," she sputtered. "And like I said, I wanted to get it done after work, but every place would have already been closed. I honestly thought I could get back in time. I knew there was a risk, but--"

  "A risk you were clearly more than willing to take," he observed, again cutting her off.

  She opened her mouth to respond, but by then, she knew already that there was nothing she could say to appease him. In the silence, Maria felt a knot form in her stomach as Ken finally took a seat at his desk.

  "I must say that I'm very disappointed in your decision," he said, sounding in control. "We took the risk of hiring you because I, among others, went to bat for you. Your work at the DA's office was hardly relevant to our practice here, as you know. But I thought you had potential. Now, I'm not sure what to think or whether I made the wrong decision."

  "I'm really sorry. It won't happen again."

  "I hope not. For your sake, not mine."

  The knot in her stomach grew even larger. "What can I do to make things rig
ht?"

  "For now, nothing. I'll talk to Barney and find out what he thinks and then we'll let you know what we decide."

  "Should I call the clients? Perhaps try to apologize?"

  "I think you should do nothing for now. I said that Barney and I will discuss it. But if something like this ever happens again..." He leaned forward, turning on his desk lamp.

  "It won't," she whispered, still trying to get her bearings. Barney was thinking about making her lead counsel? Why hadn't he mentioned that to her? In that instant, the phone on the desk rang and Ken picked it up. After announcing his name, he nodded before covering the mouthpiece.

  "I've got to take this call. We'll finish our talk at another time."

  The way he said it left no doubt that they'd talk again and Maria rose from her seat, humiliated and panicked. Her thoughts in disarray, she stumbled out of Ken's office. Passing his secretary, she was grateful that the woman ignored her. When she reached her office, she shut the door and ran through the conversation again. Despite herself, she wondered just how long she would be able to continue working there. Or whether she'd even be given a choice.

  CHAPTER 3

  Colin

  On the Monday after his fight, Colin stepped out of his apartment and was ambling toward the old Camaro when he suddenly spotted Detective Pete Margolis. The cop had parked in the street out front and was leaning against the hood of his sedan, holding a to-go cup of coffee, a toothpick in his mouth. Unlike most of the officers Colin had dealt with in the past, Margolis spent almost as much time in the gym as Colin did. His sleeves were rolled up, the fabric straining against his biceps. He was in his late thirties, his dark hair swept back and greased in place with God knows what. Once, sometimes twice a month, he would show up unannounced to check on Colin as part of Colin's court-ordered deal. Margolis clearly enjoyed the power he had over his charge.

  "You look like hell, Hancock," he said as Colin drew near. "You do anything I should know about?"

  "No," Colin answered.

  "You sure about that?"

  Colin watched Margolis instead of answering. He knew the guy would eventually get around to whatever he wanted to say.

  Margolis moved his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "There was a brawl in the parking lot at Crazy Horse a little after midnight. A bunch of guys swinging bottles at each other; a few cars in the lot got dented up and there was a man knocked unconscious. Witnesses said he'd been kicked in the head after he was on the ground. Right now, he's in the hospital with a cracked skull. That's assault with a deadly weapon, you know, and as soon as I heard about it, I thought to myself how familiar that sounded. Didn't I arrest you for something like that right here in Wilmington? Just a few years ago? And haven't you been in a couple of scrapes since then?"

  Margolis already knew the answers, but Colin answered anyway. "Yes to the first. No to the second."

  "Oh, that's right. Because your friends intervened. The goofy guy and the hot blond chick, right?"

  Colin said nothing. Margolis stared. Colin continued to wait until Margolis finally went on.

  "That's why I'm here, by the way."

  "Okay."

  "Just okay?"

  Colin said nothing. He had learned to say as little as possible in the presence of the police.

  "Put yourself in my shoes," Margolis finally went on. "The thing is, pretty much everyone scattered as soon as the sirens started closing in. A couple of witnesses stuck around and I talked to them, but I figured I was just wasting my time. It's a lot easier to go straight to the source, don't you think?"

  Colin hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. "Are we done here?"

  "Not quite. I don't think you understand what's going on."

  "I understand. But none of this concerns me. I wasn't there."

  "Can you prove that?"

  "Can you prove otherwise?"

  Margolis took a sip of his coffee, then fished a fresh toothpick from his pocket. He took his time placing it in his mouth. "That almost sounds like you're trying to hide something."

  "It was just a question," Colin said.

  "All right, then. Let's get to the questions. Where were you Saturday night?"

  "In Jacksonville."

  "Oh yeah," he said. "The fight. MMA stuff, right? You told me about that. Did you win?"

  Margolis didn't care and Colin knew it. He watched Margolis take another sip of coffee.

  "The point is, we were able to get a couple of descriptions from the witnesses, and it turns out that the guy who did the kicking was in his midtwenties, muscular with tattoos on his arms and short brown hair, almost a buzz cut. And wouldn't you know it, it turns out that the guy was pretty bruised up even before the fight started. People had seen him inside. And because I knew you'd just been fighting in Jacksonville... well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened."

  Colin wondered how much, if any, of Margolis's story was true. "Do you have any other questions for me?"

  Margolis shifted the toothpick again while setting his coffee on the hood. "Were you at the Crazy Horse on Saturday night?"

  "No."

  "You didn't even stop by? For a few minutes?"

  "No."

  "And if I have a witness that says he saw you there?"

  "Then he's lying."

  "But you're not."

  Again, Colin didn't answer. There was no reason to. And part of him suspected that even Margolis knew it, because after a long moment, he crossed his arms, his muscles flexing almost--but not entirely--involuntarily. If the detective really had something, Colin knew he would have already been arrested.

  "All right," Margolis said. "Then answer this: Where were you between midnight and one a.m. on Sunday?"

  Colin sorted through his memory. "I wasn't watching the clock. But I was either about to leave Trey's Diner on Highway 17, or driving home, or changing some lady's tire during the storm. I was home right around one thirty."

  "Trey's Diner? Why the hell would you eat there?"

  "I was hungry."

  "What time did you leave Jacksonville?"

  "It was after midnight. Maybe five or ten minutes after, but I don't know for sure."

  "Witnesses?"

  "Dozens."

  "And I assume you ate alone at Trey's?"

  "I was with my landlord."

  Margolis snorted. "Evan? One half of the dynamic duo? That's convenient."

  Colin flexed his jaw, ignoring the barb. "I'm sure the waitress will remember the two of us."

  "Because you look like you had your face run through a meat grinder?"

  "No. Because Evan stood out in a place like that."

  Margolis smirked, but business was business. "So you left the diner."

  "Yes."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes. Evan left a few minutes before I did. He drove his own car."

  "So there's no one who can say where you went afterwards?"

  "I already told you what happened after that."

  "Oh, that's right. You changed a lady's tire."

  "Yes."

  "In the storm?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you know her?"

  "No."

  "Then why did you stop?"

  "Because I thought she might need my help."

  Margolis considered Colin's answer, no doubt thinking that Colin had been caught in a mistake. "How could you know she might need help unless you'd already stopped?"

  "I saw she needed a hand getting the tire out. I stopped and got out of the car. I offered to help. She said no at first. She asked if she could borrow my phone and call her sister. I let her use my phone and she called her sister. And then she asked for my help in changing her tire. I changed it. Then I got in my car and drove straight home."

  "What time was this?"

  "I don't know. But a call was made from my phone from the woman to her sister. If you'd like, I'll show you my call log."

  "By all means."

 
Colin reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone; a few taps and the call log was on display, confirming his alibi. He showed it to Margolis.

  Margolis took out his pad and made a point to slowly jot the number down. No doubt it was right around the time of the brawl, because his biceps flexed again. "How do I know that's the number for the lady's sister?"

  "You don't."

  "But you're fine if I call and check."

  "Do what you want. It's your time that you'll be wasting."

  Margolis's eyes narrowed slightly. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"

  "No."

  "Oh yeah you do. But you know what? You're not."

  Colin didn't answer, and for a long moment, they continued to stare at each other. Margolis grabbed his coffee again and circled back to the driver's-side door. "I'm going to check this out, you know. Because you and I both know that you don't belong on the streets. A guy like you? How many people have you sent to the hospital over the years? You're violent, and while you think you can control it forever, you can't. And when that happens, I'm going to be there. And I'll be the first one to say, 'I told you so.'"

  A moment later, the sedan was pulling away, Colin watching until it finally vanished around the corner.

  "What was that about?"

  Colin turned around and spotted Evan on the porch. Already dressed for work, his friend stepped down and started up the walk.

  "The usual."

  "What was it this time?"

  "Fight at the Crazy Horse."

  "When?"

  "When I was with you. Or driving or changing a tire."

  "I might be your alibi this time?"

  "I doubt it. He knows it wasn't me or he would have brought me in and questioned me at the station."

  "Then why the big show?"

  Colin shrugged. It was a rhetorical question, since they both already knew the answer. Colin motioned toward his friend.

  "Isn't that the tie Lily bought for your birthday?"

  Evan looked down to examine it. It was paisley, a kaleidoscope of color. "Yes it is, as a matter of fact. Good memory. What do you think? Too much?"