Law of Attraction (31 page)

“I appreciate you coming here and telling me. That took guts,” Carla said when Anna was done. “Let me ask you this: Is your relationship with Wagner over?”

“Yes. It has been since this case started.”

“Did your past with him affect your work on the Davis case at all?”

“No.”

“Between you and Jack, I assume Jack made all the charging decisions, plea offer decisions, and the like?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Carla sighed and paused for a moment, reflecting. “I think we have a chance to muddle through this. But it’s not going to be pretty.” Carla picked up the phone. “The front office has to be informed.”

A few minutes later, Anna found herself sitting here, in a guest chair in the U.S. Attorney’s office, as Carla summarized her story.

“I see.” McFadden pressed his fingertips together when Carla finished. He studied Anna for a moment, then picked up his phone and dialed Jack’s number. Jack didn’t answer. McFadden replaced the receiver, then turned to the muckety-muck on the couch. “Donald, what do you think?”

Donald didn’t look at Anna. “Well, Ms. Curtis is still in her probationary period.”

“Meaning?”

“Her employment can be terminated at any time, for any reason, without notice.”

“Hm.”

Anna sat up in her chair. Donald, whoever he was, was recommending that she be fired. She opened her mouth to respond, but Carla spoke first.

“No way,” Carla said firmly. “That is not an option.”

“Carla, you have to admit, this is a serious ethical issue,” Donald
said gravely.

“No, I don’t believe that’s true. Anna told me that her relationship with the defense attorney was over before this case began and did not affect her judgment or the team’s decisions in the Davis case. I believe her.”

McFadden sighed. “We all do. But we still have to report this situation to the Ethics and Professionalism Office. In turn, they might notify D.C.’s Office of Bar Counsel.”

Anna’s mouth opened. Just being referred to these committees was scandalous. EPO enforced ethics rules at the Department of Justice. If EPO found that she violated the rules, she would lose her job here. Worse, if they referred her to the D.C. Bar, her license to practice law could be revoked altogether.

“Why?” Anna asked. “If you believe me?”

“It’s not about whether
we
believe you, Anna.” McFadden’s tone was stern but not unsympathetic. “It’s about doing things by the book. We’re the prosecutors. We try to put people in jail every day, to take away people’s liberty. To do that, we have to stand on the moral high ground, and hold ourselves to the highest of standards. If you were seeing Mr. Wagner romantically during the time that you were opposing counsel, it would be an ethical violation. In this type of situation, it’s better if we allow an objective party to look into this and make the final call. I’m sorry, but there will have to be an inquiry.”

The last word hung in the air, conjuring images of the Star Chamber.

“Frankly,” Donald ventured, “it might be easier for everyone involved—including Anna—if we just let her go now.”

“No,” Carla retorted. “If you feel you need to refer her to EPO, so be it. But don’t pretend that you’re firing her for her own good. Being fired is never helpful on a résumé. Look, this young lady is an excellent prosecutor, and we’re short-staffed as it is. With the budget what it is, I haven’t been able to hire a new prosecutor in a year, and I’ve lost two to attrition. And believe me, crime isn’t going down. I simply can’t lose her. You owe me this.”

Anna watched Carla’s steely speech gratefully.

McFadden narrowed his eyes for a moment, then sat back in his chair with a smile of surrender.

“Okay, Carla,” McFadden said. “If it means that much to you, we’ll let Anna stay on. But we can’t have her appearing in court while EPO is investigating her.”

Anna felt a wave of relief—until she realized that she was qualified for only one position in this office that wasn’t a litigating position.

“Sure,” Carla answered easily. “Until this is cleared up, I’ll assign Anna to our Papering Room in the courthouse.”

Anna’s realized her ankle was jittering again. She pulled both feet under her chair. She was grateful for Carla’s efforts and relieved not to be fired. But papering was the worst job in the office. It was awful even on a once-a-month basis, possibly madness-inducing for longer.

“Full-time?” Anna asked.

“Until this is cleared up,” Carla said.

“What about my cases?”

“Someone will take over your caseload. Thank you, Joe, for your time.”

Carla stood up and motioned for Anna to do the same. She wanted to leave before McFadden changed his mind.

Anna followed her boss down the hallway. They walked to Anna’s office, and Anna turned to Carla in front of her door.

“Carla, thank you for that.”

“Of course. They won’t fire you, I’ll make sure of that. But they may keep you in Papering so long that you’ll be tempted to leave on your own. Frankly, they probably hope that you’ll do just that. Think of it as a test of will.” Carla gave her a small, sad smile. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to pack up your personal effects and take them to the Papering Room in the courthouse. They need a hand in Papering today anyhow.”

Anna nodded and wistfully watched her boss walk away. On top of everything else, she understood how much she’d disappointed Carla.

Anna’s office was empty; Grace was probably in court. Anna looked around the room. She’d never thought she would feel sad to leave this office: cramped, dingy, and full of mismatched furniture and Grace’s piles of shoes. But she’d always assumed she would leave when she was promoted to a felony section, to a private office with fewer scuff marks on the walls, to a world of bigger cases and more responsibility. Now she was leaving shamefully, to be a glorified typist in a windowless cellar for an interminable time, cut off from her friends and cases, while she awaited an “inquiry” into her sex life. By comparison, this cramped, dingy shared office seemed great.

Anna glanced at the file cabinets. All of her misdemeanor cases were in there. They would go to a new attorney. It felt like leaving a beloved
pet dog at the pound. She hoped the new owner would care for them well.

Then Anna’s gaze fell to her desk. Three redwells rested on the corner. Besides the boxes in the war room, these were her working files on Laprea’s case. Anna ran her hand across the files. Her fingers paused on the manila folder that she’d marked
PATERNITY TEST
yesterday. Last night, Jack had told her to cancel it, but she couldn’t do that now. She was off of this case, in no uncertain terms. Jack would do it. Jack would be doing everything from here on out. She hoisted the files and walked them down to Jack’s office. His door was uncharacteristically closed.

“He’s in a meeting, hon,” Vanetta called. “Can I help you?”

“Um.” Anna looked at the door, then back at the secretary. She wondered if Jack was really in a meeting or if he just didn’t want to talk to her. It didn’t matter. Anna handed the files reluctantly to Vanetta. “Can you let him know I dropped these off?”

“Sure.”

Anna walked despondently back to her own office and started packing up her things.

Half an hour later, she pushed out of the front doors of the U.S. Attorney’s office. She was holding a single box filled with scrunchies, Clif Bars, a package of knee-highs, her mug, and miscellaneous other stuff. A few passing people looked at her curiously. This was the grown-up version of the “walk of shame,” Anna realized, walking out of your office in the middle of the day, clutching a box of hastily packed personal effects.

She looked at the courthouse to the left. If she wanted to keep her job, she had to go to Papering, in the basement of the courthouse. Then Anna looked at the Metro entrance, to her right. She could simply head down the escalator and catch the next train home.

Everything Anna loved about the job was gone now. Quitting would save her a lot of grief, and unlike being fired, it wouldn’t destroy her résumé. There would be no EPO inquiry if she didn’t work here, and no subsequent referral to the D.C. Bar. She would keep her license for sure. And she wouldn’t have to work in Papering for months, praying to be cleared, while her colleagues whispered about her demotion. With her qualifications, she could easily get a job at a law firm. She could go make a ton of money, have an office with a view, eat sushi every night. Get a clean slate. Start over.

It was tempting.

She stood standing there for a long time, looking between the courthouse and the Metro station, wondering which way to turn.

31

T
he route from Detroit Metro Airport to Flint was a flat line through snow-blanketed farmland. The November landscape was all browns and grays: pewter sky, bare trees, the stubble of dead grass poking through snowdrifts. Near the highway, the white fields were bordered with dirty snow and pockmarked piles of sooty ice that had been plowed into heaps along the shoulder. As the city of Flint drew closer, the farmland was replaced with warehouses, strip malls, box stores, and fast-food chains. The fields became parking lots planted with rows of road-salted SUVs, the metal crops of the modern Rust Belt.

Anna sat in the passenger seat of her sister’s GMC Yukon, her backside pleasantly toasted by the built-in seat warmer. Everyone around Flint worked in the auto industry and bought fully loaded cars at a steep discount. The SUV’s big leather seat felt luxurious compared to the plastic seats Anna had gotten used to on Washington’s subway. But she had also gotten used to the District’s elegant embassies, its pruned flower beds and reflecting pools, the stately museums and monuments. She hadn’t missed this gritty suburban sprawl.

She had missed her sister, though.

She gazed at Jody, who was steering the truck down the wet gray streets. Looking at Jody had once been like looking in a mirror. Although Jody was two years younger and a little taller, they had the same honey blond hair, the same high Germanic cheekbones, the same pink-cheeked smile that Anna now associated with Midwesterners. Now, however, the sisters’ different lifestyles were carving their physiques into different shapes. Anna was thin from jogging, yoga, and the constant stress of her work, while Jody was built more solidly, her muscles forged by installing instrument panels into the cabs of trucks. Jody’s palms were calloused and her nails cut short; Anna had soft hands and a French manicure from her day at the spa with Grace.

Yet the one thing that used to differentiate them had mostly faded.
Anna studied Jody’s cheek. The long scar running from her mouth to her ear was barely visible now.

“It’s so good to see you, Jo,” Anna said.

“You too.” Jody took her eyes off the road and grinned at Anna’s camel-hair coat. “You look good. Like a real grown-up.” Jody was wearing the same puffy red ski jacket and hiking boots she’d had in high school.

“I’m glad I can fool
someone.
”

They were approaching a small, run-down trailer park. Anna grimaced as she saw the neighborhood where they had once lived, so long ago. A battered sign announced
MAPLEVIEW PARK: A MOBILE HOME COMMUNITY
. The rusting trailers might be called “mobile” homes, but none had moved an inch since being parked. The trailers, and many of their occupants, were stuck there. There weren’t any trees in view either, despite the Mapleview name. It was just a flat patch of dirty snow with a strip mall on either side and a stubbly cornfield behind it.

“They’re talking about tearing it down and building a Meijer there,” Jody said quietly.

“Good riddance.” Anna closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool glass.

They continued driving until they got to Swartz Creek, a suburb of Flint with small houses, neat yards, and several cars in every driveway. American flags hung from many porches and UAW bumper stickers adorned most vehicles. Although a lot of jobs had gone to Mexico, there were still enough left here to support this quiet suburb, at least for now.

Jody pulled the Yukon into the driveway of a little white ranch house with a green door. After years of diligently squirreling away her money, she had accumulated enough for a down payment and bought the house this summer. Anna had seen photos online, but this was her first visit.

“Home sweet teeny-tiny home,” Jody said cheerfully.

“Are you kidding me? In D.C., this house would cost half a million dollars. My apartment would fit in your garage.”

Jody laughed and helped Anna carry her things inside. Anna toured the house, oohing and aahing over the rooms, which Jody had painted herself in bright funky colors. Anna ran her hand over the multihued purple walls in the bathroom.

“Nice work with the sponge painting.”

“Yeah, I was a Benjamin Moore poster girl for a while there.”

Jody made hot chocolate and the sisters curled up next to each other on the couch as the sunlight faded. Jody dished the latest news about the troubles of the auto industry and the gossip about their high school friends.

Anna sipped her cocoa and listened for a while, then interrupted her sister. “Okay, enough about everyone else’s love life. Tell me about yours. How’s that guy you were dating? Doug. Is he a keeper?”

“Ugh, no. What a jerk. We’re done.”

“What happened?” Anna asked. “You said he was so cute.”

“Yeah, when he was sober. Johnny Depp by day, Johnnie Walker at night. I’m done with dating.”

“Oh, come on,” Anna chided. “You just have a talent for picking the bad ones. If there are ten guys asking for your number, you give it to the one with the mean streak.”

“You should talk!” Jody laughed. “What about that guy you dated, the one who ended up defending that murderer? Talk about not being able to sort the good from the bad. I’m glad you got rid of him.”

Anna paused for a minute, then looked down at her cocoa. She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug and took a deep breath.

“Oh no,” Jody said. “Don’t tell me you got back together with him.”

“No,” Anna insisted. “But—it’s complicated.”