Page 24 of Broken Boss

Autumn’s body goes tense next to mine. We don’t care about brushing against one another anymore, both of us bent over the laptop, Autumn tucked into my chest as we watch McCarty yank the girl forcefully into the classroom.

The door closes.

Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. They don’t come back out.

Unfortunately, I know that already, too. I asked Marie to estimate how long he had her in there. She didn’t have to guess because the whole time, she watched the clock over his shoulder as he assaulted her.

Forty-eight minutes.

Letting out a deep, exhausted breath, I click the little x in the corner of the screen. “Excuse me,” I murmur, shifting the laptop so I can sit down. My fingers dance over the keys.

I want a backup. Two or three of them, if necessary. I want to email our IT team and have a copy encrypted. I want to make sure I have this video and audio the day I step into court to go up against McCarty on behalf of the girl he’s been violating for years.

“That’s horrible.” Autumn is shaking her head. She goes back to the other side of the desk but doesn’t sit. Instead she leans against the chair. Seeing those moments has taken a lot out of us, and there’s a sense of camaraderie there now. Another thread that ties us together.

I wonder if Autumn feels the first thread—the obsession.

She can’t, though, not the way I do, or she wouldn’t pull away from me. She’d want it just as badly as I do.

“The good thing in this pile of shit is that we have this now. It’s irrefutable—she said no. Twice.”

“They’ll argue that we don’t know what happened behind that door.”

“I don’t think that will matter. Anyone can see—” my gaze cuts to her, eyes boring in “—anyone can see how violently he pulled her into that room. How scared she was.”

Autumn looks tired, and for a moment I wish I hadn’t let her see this. She’s a lawyer, too, I remind myself. Last week, I went back and looked over her résumé, her previous cases. She has just as much experience with the sick and twisted in this world.

Which might be why she gives me a sad smile. “That’s true, but for girls, the truth rarely makes a difference. They’ll see that she doesn’t have a family and—” Her voice breaks. It catches her off guard and she clears her throat, straightening up. My eyes narrow. “Just be ready for them to claim she wanted it. Men like to insist that they know what we want. You’ll need a well-balanced jury.”

Somehow, in those short sentences, she’s gone back to fully professional. Her gaze is cool, chilly, almost, as she nods goodnight and turns to leave.

I watch her go.

Wondering who she is and where she comes from.

Wondering who she’s going home to while I sit here, alone, in my dark office.

Chapter 9

Autumn

Weakness.

The word has been haunting me since last night.

I feel weak, and I hate it. The blush-colored dress I’m wearing is actually embarrassing, though no one else at Sharpe Law will see it for what it is—weakness.

It’s only Tuesday, and already the week has been too much. Getting home last night, I felt bad for leaving Frank for so long. He was home with Orla, of course, who took him out for two walks and spoiled him with some leftover chicken added to his dinner. But when I walked in, he was parked right by the door, waiting for me and whining.

We don’t deserve dogs. They’re too pure.

Which brings my thoughts back to how impure humans can be.

The case last night, the one Chris was working on. I remember seeing Marie Waters’s photo in the article I read. A scared girl in front of all those cameras, accusing a man whom countless other students claimed was a beloved teacher.

I don’t envy Chris what he has ahead of him. It’s going to be messy, and even if justice is served, Marie’s life is already tainted by that man.

Pro bono; he’s doing it pro bono.

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