Page 69 of Broken Boss

Chris

Everything in me screams that I shouldn’t trust Autumn, but I feel frozen in time as she sits across from me.

Frank’s tail is wagging slowly. He can sense the tension in the room, the heady mix of emotions that confuses me. I just can’t figure her out. Haven’t been able to since day one.

Is that why I’m so drawn to her?

I want to interrogate her, treat her like a witness in a trial, force her to tell the truth. Something tells me she hasn’t been completely honest yet, although my instincts aren’t insisting she’s lying, either…

Autumn Cavendish. Autumn Cooper.

Her older brother is a killer.

At least, that’s what he was convicted of—manslaughter in the first degree.

While I don’t remember every second of the trial, I remember the certainty of knowing that Stephen Cooper wouldn’t be acquitted. That it all looked bad for him.

What I definitely don’t remember is Autumn being there. She would’ve been, what, in her early twenties? Maybe a little younger?

Even now, she looks heartbroken. Her eyes flash with tears, but she doesn’t cry while curled and tucked into the armchair.

She’s so sure. And back then…I was only certain that the court would convict him based on the evidence.

Based on the lack of another person of interest.

Based on the fact that he was a street kid, half orphan, showing up to the courtroom in a secondhand suit that was too short and sporting a bad haircut.

My stomach curdles in shame.

“I can help.”

The statement surprises me just as much as it seems to startle Autumn. She looks up suddenly, one tear spilling down her cheek, eyes wide.

“What?”

“I can help you clear his name. Or try to. I keep all my records, so I’ll ask my assistant to go back and find them?—”

“I already went through everything,” Autumn insists, readjusting in the chair. “I poured over all of it. There was nothing to rule him out?—”

“But if you’re sure he didn’t do it, then someone else did; there might be some evidence to prove another person was involved. Something the cops overlooked.”

Autumn purses her lips. In this moment, I want so badly to get up, walk over, and kiss her. Reassure her. Pull her into my lap and whisper against her ear that it’s going to be okay.

This is crazy, the cool, emotionless voice in my head tells me. This is impossible.

I’d do anything for her, I answer in reply. Anything. Even this.

Even professional suicide.

That’s what it’ll be, re-exploring my own case, looking for something to prove myself wrong.

It’s career suicide.

Autumn is looking at me through wet lashes, that distrust on her face again. “What?” I ask, giving her an encouraging, half-hearted smile.

“You’re a lawyer,” she explains, that tone of control back in her voice now. “Lawyers don’t believe in true innocence. Everyone is guilty of something.”

I shrug. “That’s right, everyone is guilty of something. But that ‘something’ isn’t necessarily murder. I’m not saying your brother is a saint, Autumn. I’m just saying…if you’re sure he didn’t do this, then he shouldn’t be serving time for a crime he didn’t commit. And we should do what we can to get him out of there.”

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