Page 1 of Pursuit of Happiness

Chapter One

Senator Meredith Mitchell struggled to concentrate on thewitness’s testimony, but the woman’s long, slender neck and waves of goldenblond hair generated a buzz of attraction that blocked out the captivatingstory told by an obviously accomplished storyteller. Despite what sometimesaired in prime time on C-SPAN, these Senate Judiciary Committee meetings wereusually notoriously dull and dry, but Stevie Palmer, the public defender currentlyfielding questions from Meredith’s fellow senators about proposed changes tothe federal sentencing guidelines, was riveting.

“Leroy Johnson’s only real crime was loyalty,” Stevie said.“Loyalty to his older brother, the only father figure he’d ever known, and theonly person who’d ever supported him or cared for him. When the police camecalling, threatening to take away the only constant Leroy had ever known, helied to protect his family. A lie that would land him in federal prison for thenext ten years of his life.”

“Well, isn’t that a sad tale.”

Meredith glanced at her colleague, Senator Connie Armstrong fromTexas, who’d made the remark, and wondered if she’d missed something inStevie’s testimony that had gotten under Connie’s skin. God knows she mighthave zoned out on the actual words Stevie was saying. But who could blame her?Stevie Palmer was breathtaking.Youshould be ashamed of yourself for ogling the woman.She should, butshe wasn’t. It had been way too long since she’d paused to enjoy the beauty ofanything, let alone a gorgeous woman, and she couldn’t help it if thesentencing commission, which was normally composed of stodgy old men, haddecided to send a young, hot public defender to testify before her committee.

“Senator Mitchell?” Connie asked.

She tore her gaze away from Stevie. “Yes, Senator Armstrong?”

Connie raised an eyebrow but pressed on. “I’ve heard all I cantake about the woes of Ms. Palmer’s drug-dealing clients. It’s your turn toquestion this witness.”

Meredith cleared her throat to buy a moment of time. She’dprepared a long list of tough questions for the witness, but that was when shethought she’d be sparring with someone who didn’t look like a movie star andwasn’t as compelling. No way out now. “Thank you, Senator.” She took a drink ofwater and jumped right in.

“Ms. Palmer, you argue that mandatory minimums in drug cases areinherently unfair, but isn’t it true that over half of the offenders subject tothese laws receive sentences below the minimum in exchange for cooperating withthe government?” Stevie’s eyes locked on hers, and the room was silent forseveral beats. When she finally spoke, Meredith realized she’d been holding herbreath.

“Stats like the one you just quoted only add to the problem,”Stevie said. “When you say ‘over half,’ most people assume something in theseventy to one hundred percent range, but the truth is that the total number ofoffenders who received some reprieve from mandatory minimums as a result oftheir cooperation was less than fifty-two percent, barely over half.”

“But isn’t the goal to raise that number, and doesn’t doing sobenefit society as a whole? The more incentive offenders have to give up othercriminals, the safer we will all ultimately be?” Meredith kept her tone even andher gaze trained on Stevie, but she shifted in her chair as she asked thequestions, unaccustomed to the sudden and stirring attraction Stevie roused inher.

“It makes for a nice sound bite, but it’s not that simple,”Stevie replied. “Basically, you’re rewarding people involved in bigconspiracies and slamming the door shut on solo operators or the low-levelparticipants unlikely to have any useful information. The current system onlybenefits people who have a bunch of bad friends. If I have a client who wasgoing it on their own or too incidental to the conspiracy to know much, theyare sh—” Stevie grinned. “Well, let’s just say they out of luck.”

Meredith cocked her head, wishing Stevie had gone ahead anduttered the curse if only to see how the Republicans on the committee wouldreact. Most of them were predisposed to think someone like Stevie, a publicdefender who argued for the rights of accused criminals, was de facto wrongabout anything having to do with public policy. As a former assistant US attorney,she didn’t necessarily agree with Stevie’s arguments, but she wasn’t about todismiss them out of hand either. “Do you object to the imposition of mandatoryminimum sentences or only the effect they have?”

“Both. There’s no denying that the result of minimums is unfairand not just to offenders who happen to be loners, but there are other issuesas well. Studies show that the very act of incarceration increases recidivism.Close to forty-five percent of offenders convicted of an offense that carries amandatory minimum have no criminal history yet they will be detained at higherrates than many who are repeat offenders. That is not just.”

Meredith admired Stevie’s certainty, and brushed away theinternal voice that whispered she might be letting attraction get in the way ofobjectivity. She sparred with Stevie a few more rounds and was surprised whenConnie signaled their time was up by gaveling the session to a close. Meredithremained seated while her colleagues fled the building, everyone anxious to getout of town for the weekend. She noticed Stevie talking to another one of thecommittee members, Bob Lawton. She could’ve predicted Bob would home in onStevie. He had a habit of sleeping with every attractive woman inside theBeltway whether they were available or not—the bonus of never aspiring tohigher office. Wondering if Stevie were available and wishing she had Bob’skind of freedom, Meredith tucked her head down, organized her notes, and filedthem in her briefcase so they’d be easy for her secretary to locate and type upfor the file.

“That was quite the grilling.”

She looked up to see Stevie standing next to her, and her heartraced. “That was nothing. I barely got warmed up.”

Stevie grinned. “Duly noted.” She folded her arms. “I’m not a fanof this format. It’s extremely limiting when it comes to sharing information. Idon’t suppose you have time for a cup of coffee, or are you headed out of townwith everyone else?”

Meredith silently gave thanks for her plans to stay in DC for theweekend, but still she hesitated. Coffee was harmless. Coffee was easy. Therewas a coffee shop right here in the building. A couple of grande somethings,some casual conversation, and then they’d go their separate ways. Anyoneobserving would think it was exactly what it looked like—a business meetinglike the dozens she conducted every day in the Russell Building across thestreet from the nation’s Capitol. But she wanted more and decided to be bold.“Let’s have dinner. I have a table at the Old Ebbitt. Meet you there at seven?”

“The Old Ebbitt? I’m up for dinner, but I’d prefer someplace abit more casual.”

“I like casual.” Meredith did her best not to sound too eager.

Stevie leaned down and plucked a pen off of the table andscrawled a note. She handed it over. “Perfect. I’ll meet you there at eight.”

Stevie turned and started walking toward the door before Meredithcould answer, but it didn’t really matter because there was only one possibleresponse, and Stevie clearly knew she was going to say yes. That kind ofconfidence was intoxicating, and Meredith couldn’t wait to have another drink.

* * *

Stevie could barely believe her own nerve, but hell, it wasn’tlike she had anything to lose. She knew the hearing hadn’t gone her way, butmaybe if she had a chance to talk to the senator without C-SPAN filming theirevery word, she could convince her to see the light. It didn’t hurt thatMeredith Mitchell was breathtakingly beautiful.

Stevie walked out of the Russell Building and cut acrossConstitution Avenue to stroll by the Supreme Court building. It was alreadygetting dark outside, and the lights on the building captured the majesty ofthis place in a way that daylight never did. She took a few moments to enjoytwilight before she walked to the Metro and took the Orange Line to her office.She’d welcomed the opportunity to appear before the Senate committee, but theday spent waiting to testify meant that her desk was likely piled high withwork. For a brief moment, she regretted challenging the senator to meet her fordinner. What she should do is make a sandwich from whatever random fixings shecould find in the fridge at the office and get caught up on her files, but itwas too late now. She wasn’t about to call the senator’s office and cancel. Thelook in Meredith Mitchell’s eyes told her she was intrigued, and a littleintrigue could go a long way toward persuasion.

She strode through the door of her office and shoved the stack offiles on her dinged up wooden desk to the side. Everything was as she’d left itthat morning with the exception of one new file with a neon green Post-itprominently placed that read “See me before you do anything on this.” Shepicked up the file and walked to her boss’s office and knocked.

“Joe, what’s up with this?”

“Have a seat.” He waved her toward a chair. “Tell me about thehearing. How did it go?”

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