Laurie had a love-hate relationship with New York City. Some days, she stepped outside, looked up at the towering buildings, soaked in the anonymity of walking on a crowded sidewalk, and thought to herself how lucky she was to live in the most exciting city on earth. On other days, all she could notice was the sounds of horns and sirens and the smells of engine exhaust and garbage.
The morning began on an “I love New York” note when she walked out of her building to find pillows of clean, white snow lining the edges of a freshly plowed sidewalk. She got a hello from her favorite coffee cart operator, and stepped down to the platform for the finally completed Second Avenue subway to find her train pulling in, with plenty of seats to spare.
Then the train inexplicably came to an abrupt halt between stations. The conductor said something over the speakers, but the words were garbled and incomprehensible. The lights flickered on and off. A frightened woman started banging futilely on the glass of the exit door. The man next to her told her to knock it off. Other passengers picked sides in the heated but pointless debate that ensued. Laurie closed her eyes and counted until they started to move again.
By the time she emerged from underground, the snow along Sixth Avenue was black from dirt, and the sidewalks were filled with gray slush. The two-mile commute had taken her nearly an hour.
So much for loving life in the city.
? ? ?
When she got to her office, Grace had a tall skinny latte and a miniature croissant from Bouchon Bakery ready for her on her desk.
“You’re an angel,” Laurie said, unwrapping a jade-green scarf from around her neck. The coffee was still hot.
“When you’re not here by nine-twenty, I know something happened that warrants a little treat.”
“I was trapped in subway hell.”
“Well, I wish I had better news for you, but Brett came by five minutes ago asking to see you ASAP.”
Of course he did, she thought to herself. It was going to be that kind of day.
? ? ?
Brett Young’s secretary, Dana, waved Laurie into the boss’s inner sanctum.
“How bad is it?” Laurie asked.
Dana waggled a hand, signaling that her boss was in one of his moods, but they had both seen worse.
When she walked in, Brett was on the phone. He held up one finger, told the person on the other end of the line to get back to him immediately, and gestured for her to sit down as he hung up. Brett expected the world to move at five times its actual pace.
“Why aren’t you covering the Virginia Wakeling case?” he asked.
“Who said I wasn’t?”
“So you are doing it? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The subject was only raised yesterday, Brett. It’s under consideration.”
“There’s nothing to consider. It’s perfect. Better than anything you’ve featured so far.”
The insult burned. “Where’s this coming from, Brett? I would have thought by now that I had earned a certain amount of trust.” They’d had four features in the Under Suspicion series, and each had been a hit in the ratings. The episodes also triggered viral social media activity on Twitter and Facebook that helped grow the kind of young, trendsetting audience that advertisers craved.
Brett waved a hand dismissively, as if to tell her to get over herself. “I’m the guy who pays the bills, which means I get to nose around when I think you’re missing the boat. You’re not missing the boat?”
“I’m honestly confused about what you’re asking me, Brett.”
“A little bird told me that you have some beef against the muscleman boyfriend. What’s his name: Igor?”
“Ivan. Ivan Gray.”
“Perfect name for a murderer. I love it.”
“I don’t have a beef, Brett. And he may or may not be a murderer. That’s why I do due diligence before jumping in.”
“Three words, Laurie: It. Doesn’t. Matter.”
She started to protest, but he immediately cut her off. “I don’t care if Ivan, Igor, Whatever, is guilty or innocent. It’s a rich lady in a formal gown, thrown to her death from the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art during their fanciest event in the year. The black hair, pale skin, and blood against a snowy Central Park backdrop. Celebrities in dresses. It’s a no-brainer.”
“I never said no, Brett.”
“Well, you apparently didn’t say yes either.”
“We don’t know yet if the family will participate. We don’t know if the Met will let us film there. There’s work to be done.”
“Then go do it. Here’s the deal: unless you come back here with a darn good reason, your next case is Virginia Wakeling.”
“Message received.”
She was on her way to his office door when he stopped her. “Don’t sue me for being politically incorrect, Laurie, but sometimes I wonder why you’re so hard on Ryan. You’re like two little kids chasing each other on the playground. I confess it’s kind of fun to watch the two of you go at it. He’s single you know—a real catch, if you ask me.”
Laurie managed to keep down her half-consumed latte.
? ? ?
She had just gotten back to her office and was about to call Ryan when a New York Times alert popped up on her phone: “White House names celebrity defense attorney to elite federal bench.”
She clicked on the alert to see a photograph of Alex. It was one of her favorites, the headshot the studio had taken when he first joined as the narrator of her show. His blue-green eyes looked straight through the camera behind black-rimmed glasses. She felt the latte stirring again.
She knew how Alex dreamed of being a federal judge. He always assumed that his work as a criminal defense lawyer might stand in the way of an appointment. Now he was finally getting his dream job.
She pictured him getting a phone call, from a senator or perhaps even the White House directly. She wondered whether he even thought to call her with the news, or if he had totally moved on without her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her door. It was Ryan.
She didn’t bother trying to hide a roll of her eyes. “Ryan, we agreed to take a day to think it over. You didn’t need to go over my head to Brett.”
“I’m sorry, Laurie.” He did not sound at all sorry. “I saw the way you looked at Ivan yesterday. You don’t believe him.”
“You don’t know me well enough to assume to know what I’m thinking, Ryan. For what it’s worth, I did some research last night to address my concerns that the case might be too fresh.” She didn’t see the need to tell him that the relevant phone calls had been made by her father. “I was going to move forward with the investigation anyway. Jumping to conclusions and pulling power plays with the boss is not the way to make friends around here.”
“With all due respect, Laurie, making friends isn’t my priority. Ivan will be here in fifteen minutes. He’s ready to tell us about the other suspects.”
10