Page 72 of The 1 Lawyer

“And that made it all right to sneak into my house? Because you thought I wouldn’t be here?”

She grimaced. “I really needed to get back into that room and assess the crime scene in light of the new information I’d learned about Gates. You know the police aren’t looking. They decided it was a murder/suicide, and that’s as far as they’ll go.”

With a soft groan, she said, “Can you forgive me? I was wrong to invade your privacy.”

I took some deep breaths. Getting out of that bedroom had restored a measure of my sanity. I pushed away from the sink, moved over to the fridge, pulled the door open, and said, “I need a drink.”

Jenny froze. “Shit,” she whispered.

I took out a bottle of ice-cold Coca-Cola and held it up where Jenny could see it. “You want one?”

She gave a quick nod. As I rummaged through a kitchen drawer for a bottle opener, I remembered that I was on call for lifeguard duty. “I need to call my side hustle, see if I have to be at the beach.”

I checked my phone and found a text notifying me that I wasn’t needed for the afternoon shift. I tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter, popped the caps off the Cokes, and said, “Looks like I have a rare afternoon off.”

We sat at the kitchen table and drank our Cokes straight from the bottle. After a bit, I settled down. I don’t know whether it was due to the free afternoon or some magic in Coca-Cola’s secret formula, but I started feeling human again.

I wanted to tell Jenny about my courtroom victory. It had been a while since I’d scored a win. I tipped back in the chair. “Did we ever talk about my landlord/tenant case? I represented a sweet little old lady against Laclede Property Management.”

She took a sip from the cold bottle. “That’s Chad Owens, right, the slumlord? Can’t stand that guy.”

“Yeah, the case went to trial today. We were David and Goliath.”

Her face was eager. “Tell me! Were you victorious? Did David slay Goliath?”

When I gave her a wide grin, she reached out and clicked her bottle against mine. “Here’s to seeing justice done! You’re back, Stafford Lee! About damn time somebody reined Owens in. I’m so proud of you.”

We raised our bottles to each other and swigged. Jenny set hers down and asked, in a tentative voice, “You still mad at me?”

“I’m over it. But I would appreciate advance notice next time you plan to burglarize my house.”

“Yeah, I get that. Can I ask you about something else?”

“Sure,” I said, but my guard went back up.

“We’ve never really talked about how the whole rehab thing went down. Mason and I dragged you off without any warning and against your will. Our intentions were good—you know that?”

“I do know that.”

“And it all turned out for the best, right? But I can see how you might feel some resentment toward me. A little anger, deep down, for forcing the issue. I’ve wondered about that.”

I shook my head, wishing I had cleared the air before she had to bring it up. “I’m grateful to you, Jenny. Not a bit resentful. You and Mason did me a tremendous service, getting me into rehab. Y’all saved me.”

With a wave of her hand, she said, “Oh, hon. You saved yourself.”

“You want to hear a confession?”

Her face tensed. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

She looked down, lifted the glass bottle, and wiped a ring of condensation from the wooden tabletop. “You and that administrator. Amy. I knew she’d caught your eye. Did something happen between you in rehab?”

Damn, I hadn’t seen that coming. Her statement shook a laugh out of me. The idea that I could’ve charmed Amy in my weeks in rehab was downright funny. “God, no. You’re way off. I’m telling you this in the strictest confidence—it’s about Caro.”

She set an elbow on the table and put her chin in her hand. “Daniel Caro, right, your former client? Not Hiram, his father?”

“Yeah, Daniel. I’ve been thinking, Jenny, about all those suspicions that you harbored during trial. Maybe you were right. Maybe Caro is actually a predator.”

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