Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) (28 page)

“Why’s that?”

He grinned.  “You’ll see.”

He pushed open the heavy door of the conference room and held it for
Sarah to pass.  There were already four people in there:  Calvin and the three
other lawyers Sarah had included on her recent e-mail.

Calvin stood up and shook her hand.  “Sarah, nice work.  We decided we
wanted to brainstorm this morning, since you’re probably leaving again
tomorrow.”

“I am,” she said.

“Where to?” Calvin asked.

“Portland.  Then Seattle, then . . . somewhere.”  She wished she felt
more alert, and knew she probably should have grabbed another hour of sleep
before she came in, but she couldn’t say she regretted how she spent her time.

“So, walk us through it,” Calvin said.  “You noticed a pattern . . . ”

“Right,” Sarah said, stifling another yawn.  “All the defects are from
a particular five-month span of time.  Any of the hair irons bought before or
after that seem fine, but from September to January two years ago, the products
suddenly started catching fire.”

“You think it’s someone else’s parts,” Calvin said.

“I do,” Sarah said.  “If you look at the documents Hector sent me,” she
said, indicating one of the young associates in the room, “you’ll see all the
internal memoranda about Mason Manufacturing’s labor problems.  They finally had
to notify their customers—including Atheena—that they wouldn’t be able to
deliver their orders on time.  When you compare all the various timelines,
you’ll see there’s a gap when Mason fell behind by about a hundred thousand
units.  I’m willing to bet Atheena went somewhere else during that period of
time, and found another supplier they’re not telling anyone about.”

“Why not?” Mickey asked.  He wasn’t one of the attorneys working on the
case, so Sarah wasn’t sure why he had been included in the meeting, but she
filled him in anyway.

“Atheena makes a big deal about how their hair iron is ‘Made in America,
with Genuine American Parts,’” she said.  “What if they decided they needed to
buy parts from say, China, to keep production moving?  Not something they’d
like to get out—especially if that part is catching people’s hair on fire.”

“Can we prove it?” Calvin asked.

“I asked Jeffrey,” she said, indicating another one of the associates,
“to send out requests for production of documents.  They’re due in a few weeks,
so we’ll see what’s in there.”

“Can we prove it otherwise?” Calvin asked.  “Just in case the paperwork
mysteriously disappears?”

“It’s math,” Sarah said.  “When you look at Mason’s shipping schedule,
you can see how long it took from the time Atheena received the part, to the
time they put the finished product on sale.  We can track it from the serial
numbers—Mason has those, even if Atheena destroys their records.  Then it’s
just a matter of comparing the timelines, and finding the five-month gap in the
schedule.  From what I’ve seen, the numbers match up perfectly.  Those aren’t
our parts.”

Calvin sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. 
Then he smiled.

“And you did all this while you were on the road,” he said.

“Told you,” Mickey said, grinning with a kind of pride.

“Sarah, I have good news and even better news,” Calvin said.  “I didn’t
just bring you in here to discuss your memo—I already got the gist of it when I
read it last night.  I brought you here because it’s time you joined us.”

Sarah told herself to remain calm.  To keep her face perfectly
expressionless.

“Join you, how?” she asked.

“We’re bringing you in,” Calvin said.  “In from Portland or wherever
you were going next, and into the firm, if you accept.”

“Are you . . . offering me a permanent job?”

“That,” Calvin said, “and I’d also like you to take a more active role
in this case.  If we’re going to run with this defense—and I don’t see why
not—I’d like you to direct it and see it through.  Handle all the discovery, the
motions, the oral arguments—all of it.”

Sarah felt too shocked to be pleased, but she knew the pleasure would
come.  In the meantime, she glanced at the faces of the three other associates
working on the case, trying to gauge their reaction to Calvin’s announcement. 
None of them seemed particularly happy to have been passed over.

“What do you say?” Calvin asked.

“I say yes, of course,” Sarah answered, and finally allowed herself a
smile.  Mickey caught her eye and winked at her.  Obviously he knew about
Calvin’s plan.

“But . . . what about all the depositions?” Sarah asked.  “I still have
a full schedule.”

“Bingham can take them over,” Calvin said, nodding toward the associate
Sarah knew was the most junior.  “Although I think it’s going to be a while before
he has to go out.”

It took Sarah a moment to process what Calvin just said.  But then she
asked, “Why would it be a while?  We’re scheduled almost until Christmas.  Then
we start up again in January.”

“Nobody’s going to care about depositions pretty soon.  Tell her,
Mickey,” Calvin said.

Mickey gave her a look filled with wicked anticipation.  “I have a
friend who works at the Justice Department,” he said.  “We were having drinks
the other night, and he let slip he’s working on a big case involving another
dirty L.A. law firm.”

Calvin interrupted.  “It’s because of that guy Fitzgerald in the U.S.
Attorney’s Office—he’s the one who went after your firm, too,” he told Sarah. 
“He has a hard-on for anyone in this town he thinks is making too much money.”

“That leaves me out,” Mickey said.

Calvin ignored him.

“Anyway,” Mickey went on, “they’re about to do the perp walk again,
parading a bunch of lawyers in handcuffs past the media.  It’s Fitzgerald’s early
Christmas present to himself.  So I’m guessing your depositions are about to be
the last thing on people’s minds for a while.”

It was too good to be true, Sarah thought.  Was Chapman’s firm going
down?  She wondered if Chapman himself would be one of the lawyers hauled off. 
She disliked the man—sorely—but she wouldn’t exactly wish this on him.  Mickey and
Calvin might think it was entertaining, but Sarah had seen for herself what it
was like to be caught up in the turmoil.  She almost felt sorry for the man.

“So,” Mickey finished triumphantly, “bad news for your old buddy Burke.”

Sarah knew she couldn’t have heard him right.

“Burke?” she repeated.

“Yes, sirree,” Mickey said.

“But . . . why?”  Sarah could feel the blood rushing to her head, could
even hear it pounding in her ears.  This couldn’t be what was happening—not
now.

“Seems the lawyers over there have been paying people to be
professional plaintiffs in their class action suits,” Mickey explained. 
“Strictly no-no, illegal.  Burke’s firm fronts the money for them to buy stock
in a tech company, then of course the stock prices go up and down the way they
always do with the techs, and as soon as they go down, boom, lawsuit.  I guess
they’ve filed something like twenty of them in the last three or four years. 
And finally someone in Fitzgerald’s office noticed that a few of the plaintiffs
were repeaters.”

“But who says Burke’s firm is paying them?” Sarah asked.  She wasn’t
going to just buy Mickey’s story—especially since he was obviously having such
a great time telling it.  She needed facts, not just innuendo fueled by some
leftover animosity Mickey might feel toward Joe.

“Apparently somebody couldn’t keep a secret,” Mickey said.  “Fitzgerald
caught wind of it, and now he’s ready to hand down indictments any day.  Could
even be next week.”

“Next week?” Sarah repeated, still feeling like she was two miles
behind, struggling to catch up with everything she was hearing.  “But . . . Burke
. . . you don’t think he was involved personally, do you?”

Mickey smiled.  “Had to be.  He was one of the lawyers on the most
recent case.”

No, Sarah thought. 
NO
.  It wasn’t possible.  Burke wouldn’t do
that—would he?  That wasn’t the man she knew.

But maybe that was the point.  Maybe she didn’t know him at all.

“So,” Calvin said, moving straight ahead with business while Sarah
still reeled from the personal, “what all this means is the plaintiffs will
probably be looking for new attorneys before the end of the year.  Which buys
us some time.  I doubt anyone will be worried about taking depositions in
Kalamazoo for a while, so Sarah, that’s why I want you to hammer this defense
now, go out hard against Atheena, and get us dismissed from the case before
anyone on the plaintiff’s side knows what happened.”

Sarah nodded dully.  What Calvin said made logical, strategic sense,
and she would have loved the discussion if not for the fact that right now her
insides felt like glue.

“So go ahead and keep to the schedule for now,” Calvin said.  “No need
to raise any suspicions.  But be ready any minute to come home and start
working on the case from here.  Hell, they might even indict everybody Monday
morning—you could be back by the afternoon.”

Monday morning . . .

Calvin stood up and reached out his hand.  “Welcome to the firm,
Sarah.  Glad to have you.  Assuming, that is, you accept.”

Sarah nodded.  Then she remembered she should probably speak.  “I
accept.  Thank you.  I appreciate the vote of confidence.”  She forced her
mouth into a semblance of a smile.

“None of these scholars could come up with what you did,” Calvin said,
indicating the other associates still sitting there.  Sarah could feel the
resentment wafting off of them.  “And you did it while spinning plates and
riding a unicycle.  Can’t wait to see what you do when you get to stay put in
one place, with a proper office and a staff.  Mickey did right in recommending
you.”

Sarah smiled again, for Mickey’s sake.  Even though right at the moment
she felt very little affection for the man.  Mickey had enjoyed himself far too
much.  Although if what he said about Joe was true, then maybe he had every
right.

Mickey walked her out.

“Buy you lunch?”

“No, thanks,” Sarah said, trying to remain neutral toward him, trying
not to bolt for the exit and get away from him and everyone else as fast as she
could.  She needed to think.  To process.  To sit somewhere alone and let it
all hit her again at a pace she might control.

“Amazing, huh?” Mickey asked.  “How greedy some people get.  I didn’t
take Joe for one of those, but you never know, huh?”

“Nope, you never do,” Sarah said.  Her mouth felt dry, but she could
feel the sweat still sticky on her skin.  “Listen, Mickey, I really appreciate
you getting me this job.  It’s turned out much better than I ever hoped.”  She
wondered if it sounded as false to his ears as it sounded to hers, but from his
smile, she guessed not.

He kissed her on the cheek.  “Any time, gorgeous.  Happy to be of
service.”

He stood too close to her, too long, until finally Sarah took a step
back.  “Thanks,” she said, aiming now for the door.  “I’ll see you later.”

“You did good, Sarah,” Mickey called after her.

She waved without turning around.

Make it to the car, make it to the car . . .

Then she had to talk herself through keeping it together while she
started up the Saturn and drove out of the parking lot.

Then, and only then—

Sarah pulled off at the first opportunity, shut off the car, and then
leaned forward and buried her head inside her arms.  Her breath came out in
heaves, almost like vomiting again, but this time just pressure and force and
nothing but pain and anger behind it.

Joe.  You stupid, greedy, idiot, bastard, lying,
cheating—WHY?  Why now?

But why not now? she thought.  He had no idea she was coming back.  No
idea she might even consider falling in love with him again.  No idea he was
about to get indicted, lose his law license, probably go to prison—

While Sarah once again had to pick herself up from the ground, wipe off
the blood, and force herself to keep moving.  Force herself to forget him. 
Force herself to stop believing they were ever meant to be together.

“Joe,” she whispered into the car.  “We could have had it this time. 
Why did you have to ruin everything?”

Thirty-one

“Ooh,” Angie said.  “You don’t look good.”

Sarah’s eyes were red and puffy from the effort of not crying.  Her
sinuses were swollen, too, and her throat felt thick with unspent tears.  But
she refused to do it, she thought.  Not this time, and not over him.  Not
anymore.

Sarah handed Angie an envelope of cash.  “I can’t work out today, but I
wanted to make sure I brought you this.  I just got a job offer this morning,
so I should be able to pay back everything by the end of the year.”

“Congratulations!” Angie said.  “That explains why you look so
depressed.”

“Yeah, well . . . it’s been a rough day.”