Page 29 of Defended By Love

The thread that I choose to follow, that I need to follow, leads me to the DFO agent’s house a couple hours’ drive from Vancouver. I’m showing up unannounced while she’s on a leave from work, which is a huge faux pas. Is it weird that I’m actively hoping I’m in a time loop? I am, though. Secretly, every lawyer out there wants to be untethered from their scruples. Getting to investigate without following codes of conduct, blatantly lying without recourse, committing crimes in the pursuit of truth, it’s a dream come true.

I pull into a long driveway that splinters off into several forks, one leading to a cozy farmhouse and the other to some sort of shop or barn thing. At first, I try to be polite as possible, I go to the house and knock, looking all sorts of important in my power suit. When no one answers, I follow the sound of power tools to the shop.

“Hello?” I call, knocking at the huge barn door as I peer into its refurbished, converted interior. Not that I’ve ever seen a woodworking shop, but I imagine this is one of the more sophisticated ones.

In front of me, a pretty woman operates the biggest, sharpest looking saw I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing protective headphones, so she doesn’t hear me.

Most of what I know about social interaction comes from Dr. Debbie’s Guide to Understanding Relationships. I found myself re-reading it in my adult years as a result of some client comments. One particular client called the experience of interacting with me the social equivalent of shaking an overly tight, clammy hand.

However, nothing in the book covered how to approach someone operating dangerous machinery. What if I were to call for her attention and she cuts off her arm? Should I just wait patiently while she works on a project for hours? I make a mental note to write to the publishers to include a section on how to approach people wielding sharp objects.

I settle for waving my arms in the air like a maniac until I overlap with her peripheral vision.

She looks up at me, startled, as I try to stop my frantic arms. Odd, but I’m really banking on this whole time loop thing, or I’m going to have another ‘clammy personality’ fiasco on my hands.

When the whirring of the saw dies down, she lowers her headphones.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. I hope so. Are you Lauren Musgrave?”

She nods, stepping out from behind the saw and extending her hand to me. I see then that she’s pregnant, like ready to pop pregnant. At least that probably means she’s on a maternity leave of sorts and not a Hart-forced leave for her report.

“You’re with the Department of Fisheries and Oceans?”

She eyes me over. “Are you with Hart Link?”

I shake my head. “The opposite. I’m Hailey Cox, the lawyer who ended up with your report.”

She exhales and rests a hand on her belly. “Oh good. Ever since I filed that, I’ve been waiting for some John Grisham-y lawyers to show up and lobotomize me or something.”

I smile, like a new fear hasn’t just been unlocked in me. I guess something shows on my face because she laughs and waves me off.

“Don’t worry about it. If anyone tried anything, my sister-in-law would kick their ass.”

My smile tightens. I decide not to inform her that, as a lawyer, I was mostly just thinking about myself.

“Would you like to see some credentials?” Dr. Debbie says that when someone takes the conversation in an awkward place, you can redirect it by asking questions. I would say lobotomies count as awkward conversations. Then again, I’m no expert.

She laughs. “No, no. I don’t see any ice picks, so I believe you’re not with Hart.”

I clear my throat. “What is it you’re building?” I ask, hoping another question will steer the conversation in a better, less ice pick-y direction.

“An ice rink for the hockey team-sized family my husband is trying to convince me to birth,” she answers, smiling.

Since I have no idea what she’s talking about, I decide to move on.

“Can you tell me a bit about what it was you discovered?”

Instantly, Lauren’s demeanour changes. She goes from relaxed, woodworking pregnant lady to stone-cold professional. I swear, my very soul relaxes. This I know how to deal with.

She relays the facts to me, most of which are clearly laid out in her report. She starts by explaining that Hart Link Incorporated was initially put onto her caseload because, after their latest expansion, they exceeded manufacturing capacities of their previously established parameters and so they needed another impact assessment of how their production affected the ocean life.

Usually, companies fail not just to think about pollutants and their effect on aquatic life, but also sound and light output.

“And Hart Link Incorporated?” I ask.

Lauren shakes her head. “Passed everything with flying colours. In fact, on my initial assessment, I detected an over-abundance of a variety of species. They were actually helping the local ecosystem.”

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