Page 113 of Defend Me

“You were the one going on about ethics shmethics,” I protest weakly.

“Yeah, that was a thought exercise. This is…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Okay. So. This is real, huh?”

I run my fingertip along the rim of my glass. “This is real,” I admit.

“You took a huge risk, Siobhan,” he says.

“I know.”

“You’ll get fired if Harold finds out.”

“Are you planning on telling him?”

“Moi?” Grayson puts a hand to his heart, aghast. “Of course not. But let’s stop for a minute and think about what this means. The bigger picture, so to speak.”

“The bigger picture is how do we keep our client out of jail.”

Grayson cocks his head thoughtfully. “Do you even see the change in yourself?” He gestures to my hair, flowing loose down my back. “You’re softer here. You’rehappyhere. You’re helping this whole town out, not just Noah. And you like it. I can tell.”

“Sure, but it’s just temporary. I don’t have my usual caseload. Once the trial is over, I’ll be back in the city full time.”

“You know what they call you around the office,” he says.

“Ice Queen,” I say. It never bothered me before. Fuck those petty men—they were just pissed that I was better than them, smarter, worked harder. And that I wouldn’t sleep with any of them.

“But that’s not you,” Grayson says gently. “I think—and correct me if I’m wrong here—thatthisis the real you. Have you ever actually liked working at Phillips?”

“It’s one of the best defense firms in the country,” I say.

“I am aware of its reputation,” Grayson says dryly. “I, too, have parents with high expectations. But that’s not what I asked. Do youlikeworking there?”

“How is that relevant? Ihaveto be at a firm like Phillips,” I insist “It’s part of my plan. To make partner, start my own firm, make a name for myself.”

“Oh honey,” Grayson says. “You’re a freakingbillionaire. Start your own firm right now! You don’t need anyone’s permission.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Could I? Start my own firm now? A tiny seed of an idea sprouts in the back of my mind. I could represent whoever I wanted. I couldhelppeople.

A slow smile spreads across Grayson’s face and he pats my knee. “I think maybe you’re getting it now,” he says.

I feel my mind whir and expand. Setting up an office here. Doing the work I’d started at the public defender’s office, but on my terms. Running my own firm. Choosing my own clients. Fighting the good fight, the way I did today in the courtroom against the sheriff. God, it felt good to shock him with that logbook. To slice and dice his testimony and create reasonable doubt. That’s the part I love most about being a lawyer.

I’m still frozen with bewilderment when Jake comes over with Grayson’s martini.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Just a little mid-trial crisis,” Grayson says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

I chuckle sadly, coming back to earth and the problem at hand. “Not unless you know someone who was awake at the ass crack of dawn on the morning my mother was murdered.”

I already interviewed Jake, so I know he was fast asleep, like most of the other people my age.

“Hm,’” Jake murmurs, rubbing his chin. “You know…I bet Mr. Sanderson was awake then. He’s a big fisherman and birdwatcher. Did you talk to him?”

The name pricks something at the back of my mind, and I sit up straight. “Who’s Mr. Sanderson?”

Grayson is already searching his email for the witness list Wilbur sent us. He looks up at me and shakes his head. “Not on here,” he says.

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