Authors: Unknown
his grandparents. So I’m guessing it’s someone from your offi ce.
Just answer it already. Whoever it is obviously isn’t going to leave a message.”
Th e phone weighed in with another
bzzzt.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
She’d promised not to work during the trip and, so far, had
kept her word. But her curiosity was killing her. And if he really
didn’t care . . .
“Just make it quick.”
He stretched over and gave her a small kiss on the crown of her
head then stood and headed toward the stream.
Before he could reconsider, she snatched the phone up from
the blanket.
“Aroostine Higgins.”
“Finally. I hope I didn’t wake you,” said a familiar voice. Th e dry tone made clear that whether Aroostine had been awoken at six o’clock 5
MELISSA F. MILLER
in the morning during her vacation was of no actual concern to the
speaker.
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Sid?”
Sidney Slater, director of the Criminal Division of the Depart-
ment of Justice, was not on the list of people she expected to hear from.
Not on this trip.
Not ever.
Her former boss hadn’t even bothered to say “don’t let the door
hit you on the way out” after he’d summarily demoted her from hot-
shot trial attorney in the Criminal Division to lone AUSA assigned
to the backwater outpost of the Johnstown, Pennsylvania, offi ce.
Not that she was complaining, exactly. Th e reassignment meant
she’d been able to return to Walnut Bottom, settle back into her
cozy, sun-splashed home with Joe and Rufus, and put her ill-fated
stint in Washington, DC, out of her mind.
But the circumstances that had landed her in Sid’s bad graces
still stung.
Some
bosses might hav
Some
e commended her for what she’d
done. After all, she’d rescued two kidnapping victims and shut down a vicious plot to control the United States government and private
industry by hijacking essential technology.
But not Sid.
Sid had focused on the fact that she’d failed to show up for a
court appointment in order to save Joe’s life. First he’d suspended her, and then he’d summarily transferred her out of his division.
“I’m awake,” she said, ignoring the way the memory of his treat-
ment made her heart race and her palms sweat.
“Good. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Pardon?” She couldn’t imagine what he wanted from her, but,
unless it involved picking up a souvenir mug at the airport, it wasn’t going to happen.
His tone softened. “Let me rephrase that. I realize you don’t work
directly for me anymore, but I’m really in a jam and I need your help.”
6
CHILLING EFFECT
“Sid . . .” she fumbled around for the words to explain that this
was not a trip that could be interrupted.
“Let me fi nish. We both know you’re an exceptionally compe-
tent and capable attorney. I also recognize that what you did last
winter was a service to the department. Hell, it was a service to the entire country.”
Finally
, she thought. But in true Slater fashion, he ruined the moment as he kept prattling.
“But rules are rules, Aroostine. And rules governing attorney
conduct, in particular, are not optional. I had no choice.”
She had no intention of wasting a gorgeous morning listening
to this drivel. She cut in, “Come on, Sid. Th ere’s always a choice. I made mine, and you made yours. What do you have, almost a hundred AUSAs working for you? Give one of them a chance to shine.
Th ere’s a mountain here waiting for me to hike it.”
And a husband
to hike it with.
She was surprised by the fi re in her own voice, but he hadn’t
supported her when she needed him. Sid could have defended her
to the director, but he chose not to. Now he could go pound salt.
“Wait, please. I know you feel betrayed by me, and I understand
that. You think I failed to stand up for you. I won’t waste your time or mine trying to justify the decision I made. But you should know
two things: it was an extraordinarily diffi cult choice for me. I hated losing you—you’re a rising star. But, I’ll be honest, I’d make the
same decision again. Th e rules matter. All that said, you’re uniquely situated to help me right now, and if you do, I’ll make sure it’s taken into consideration.”
She stared out at the endless sky and watched as a golden eagle
stood on a cliff and spread its massive, dark wings, prepared to take fl ight. Th e majestic bird soared overhead and circled the meadow
looking for prey. She tried to shake the feeling that she was the help-less baby rabbit in this conversation and cleared her throat.
7
MELISSA F. MILLER
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning you come up for annual review in October. Because
I was your section chief for part of the year, I’ll be contributing to your evaluation. And I carry a lot of weight. I can bring you back
to Main Justice with the press of a couple of keys.”
A shot of adrenaline raced up her spine, but she forced herself
to slow her breathing. “I’ll be honest with you, too, Sid. I’m not sure I want to come back.”
“Fair point. But I presume you don’t intend a stint as AUSA in
a small, unimportant offi ce to be the capstone of your career. I can help you advance, Aroostine.”
She bristled at the description of her current post, but she had
to put that aside and deal with the unspoken component of Sid’s
statement, which came through as loudly as if he’d shouted it.
And
I can sink what’s left of your career.
“Why don’t you tell me what the favor is? Let’s start there.”
It almost didn’t matter. She’d made a promise to Joe. She wasn’t
going to work on her own caseload during this trip, let alone take
on whatever mind-numbing research task Sid was about to spring
on her.
“Th ere’s a Native American reservation located about eighty
miles from your resort. It’s made up of three tribes in the Chinook Nation. Th eir casino and hotel are the region’s largest employers.
And they turn a tidy profi t, although judging by the poverty level on the reservation, they aren’t much for sharing the wealth.”
“Tell me something new.” She didn’t need Sid to tell her about
the broken promises and despair that permeated the native popula-
tions. She’d lived it—at least until the Higginses had adopted her
and saved her from that bleak life.
“In any event, an accountant for the casino, a fellow by the
name of Isaac Palmer, contacted the FBI in Eugene about possible
8
CHILLING EFFECT
embezzlement. As you may know, the Bureau is sensitive about
sticking its nose into issues on the reservations.”
As far as she knew the Bureau simply ignored the reservations,
turning a blind eye to the rampant criminal activity that threatened to destroy so many native communities.
“Sensitive?”
Sid sighed. “It’s complicated. Th e Bureau has jurisdiction to
prosecute crimes that occur on the reservations, but the agents are often unwelcome. Th e tribes resent their presence, and the residents usually refuse to cooperate with investigations.”
“Well, Mr. Palmer reached out, so presumably that’s not an
issue in your case.”
“It wasn’t. Th e Bureau forwarded the report on to the Offi ce
of Tribal Aff airs. Th e liaison there reviewed the initial information and determined there was suffi cient evidence to open a white-collar investigation, so she turned it over to our Eugene branch offi ce.
Unfortunately, at that point, Mr. Palmer fell off the face of the earth.
He’s not returning phone calls. His AUSA sent him a registered let-
ter; it was returned. We’re at a dead end—unless you can help us.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’d like you to contact Mr. Palmer and ask him to meet with
you. Go see him and convince him to follow through with the
investigation. From what the Oregon US Attorney has gathered,
this could be a signifi cant case from a fi nancial standpoint.”
“Why me?”
He coughed. “You’re uniquely qualifi ed to make him feel com-
fortable. I think he’ll talk to you.”
“Because I’m a Native American?”
After a long pause, he answered slowly, choosing each word
with precision. Th e careful speech was a hallmark of her former
boss’s deliberative thought processes.
9
MELISSA F. MILLER
“I do think your shared heritage as Native Americans will help
to break the ice, yes. But the reason I thought of you was the rap-
port you manage to build with your witnesses, regardless of their
background. It’s one of your strengths.”
“And the fact that I just happen to be in Oregon right now is
gravy, huh? You would have tracked me down in Johnstown and
fl own me out here for this assignment, right?”
She generally wasn’t a fan of sarcasm. She found it petty. But
Sid deserved to squirm a little.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m sure there are other Native
American attorneys in the Department who are geographically
closer. In fact, there’s likely at least one already assigned to the Oregon Offi ce. But yes, I was aware you’re out there—thanks to
the wonders of our electronic calendaring system I know where
just about every assistant US attorney is at a given moment—and I
know you’re good. So I’m asking you. What do you say?”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Her instinct was to say no.
But.
Th is could be her chance to redeem herself in the eyes of Main
Justice.
So what? Remember, you chose Joe.
Joe, who was this very moment crossing the meadow with a
fi stful of wildfl owers and a smile that tugged on her heart.
“Aroostine?”
“Let me think about it, Sid. E-mail me the fi le and Mr. Palmer’s
contact information.”
“Th ank you. I knew you’d do the right thing.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“You will.”
She ended the call and let Joe sweep her into one of his big, tight hugs.
10
Joe cocked his head and appraised his wife. She was curled up in the window seat with a light cotton blanket wrapped around her. But
instead of gazing out at the endless mountain vista that stretched
across the sky, she had her nose in a book—or her electronic tablet, to be exact.
With the diff use light behind her, she was a slightly softer, more mature version of the Aroostine he’d dated in college. He could
almost always fi nd her studying—engrossed in a book with her legs
hooked beneath her, a blanket around her shoulders, and that long
curtain of dark hair partially obscuring her face.
He smiled at the memory and crossed the room to stand near
her.
She swiped the device to mark her place, pushed her hair out of
her eyes, and gazed up at him with an open expression. Not annoyed
at the interruption, but curious about what he wanted.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”
MELISSA F. MILLER
He tucked a stray strand of her glossy hair behind her ear as he
asked the question, just as an excuse to touch her. He still couldn’t believe he’d almost lost her because of his pigheaded refusal to meet her halfway. He shoved the thought out of his head and let his hand drop to her shoulder.
She considered him with sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes.
“You’re sweet, but that hike kicked my butt. I think I’m going
to take a nap and then maybe check out the sauna. You go have
fun; you’ve been excited about this craft beer thingy ever since the concierge mentioned it.”
It was true. Oregon was known for its artisanal beers, and the
resort had organized a tour of several local breweries for interested guests. Good beer was one of his passions. But Aroostine rarely
drank and loathed the taste of beer.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
He watched her face, searching her expression for a hint of
annoyance or hurt.
“Sweetheart, please. We’re not Siamese twins. Th is is something
you know you’ll enjoy. It’s not a personal aff ront to me if you have hobbies, you know.”
“I know. It’s just . . . this trip is about rediscovering each other.”
She gave him a lazy smile. “So go discover some new beers and
then come back here and rediscover me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard.
She leaned into him. Her honey-scented body lotion wafted
from her skin and enveloped him. All thoughts of amber ales, extra-
hoppy IPAs, and chocolaty porters faded from his mind. He pressed
closer against her.
She leaned back and gave him a playful shove.
“Go already. Let me have my nap and recharge.”
He sighed in mock resignation.
“Th anks, baby.”
12
CHILLING EFFECT
“Go.”
She waved him toward the door then woke up her screen and
returned to whatever it was she’d been reading.
Aroostine yawned and switched off the tablet. Her entire body was
stiff . A nap and a steamy sauna were defi nitely on her agenda.
Th e climb up Broken Top had been worth it—the view from
the top was spectacular, breathtaking even, and they’d stood there
in silent communion for a very long time drinking it all in—but
the hike itself had been strenuous. Th ey’d chosen the more challenging of the two marked paths, and she was paying for it with sore