Power of Attorney (10 page)

“Yep. That looks like blood,” Dana said matter-of-factly.

“I told you! She must be hurt! We need to do something.” Trog sounded like he might cry at any moment. I half expected Lena to slap him in the face and tell him to “Snap out of it” but instead, she just came up with a good suggestion.

“We should check the other rooms, in case, you know,” she said.

“Right,” I agreed putting my hands on my hips and looking around. We were standing in the living room. The puddle was just to the right of a small kitchen that framed one end of the space. There was a short hallway to the left and there two doors that opened out to it, probably the bedroom and the bathroom. “So, who wants to do that?” I asked. Nobody moved.

“What if someone is hiding in there?” Trog asked plaintively.

“Let’s check it together,” Dana suggested.

“Okay,” I agreed walking over to join her. Lena came over at the same time. We looked up at Trog, who hadn’t budged. He made a sad face but slunk over to join the effort. We all pulled in together as tightly as a Roman Legion and moved
en masse
to the first door.

“Okay, I got this one,” Lena said bravely.

She broke ranks just enough to lean forward and grab the doorknob. “On three, One ... Two ... Three!” She thrust open the door and a light immediately turned on startling all of us. We made various surprised noises and hit the ground. After a moment of silence, I looked up. All I saw was white tile, porcelain and linoleum.

“Okay, clear!” I called, standing up. “It looks like the bathroom, and it also looks like nobody is presently using it.” I looked around and saw nothing but a bathroom.  The shower curtain on the tub was open and there were shelves rather than a closet.  Unless a murderer could fit into a three-foot whicker clothes hamper, we were probably safe in this room at least. Which was actually a good thing, because that last shock had presented a close call. After we each took a turn using the facilities, we reformed our legion and proceeded to door number two.

“Okay, this one’s mine,” I said stepping forward. I didn’t waste time with a countdown. I just pushed it open.  There were no automatic lights in this room, however, so I had to lean inside and feel around on the wall for a switch. I quickly found it and as light flooded the room, I saw nothing more than an innocuous looking bed, dresser ... and light saber hanging on the wall.  Okay ...

Lena swept in quickly, took a quick look under the bed and checked the closet. I had a feeling that Lena was the one always picked
first
in gym class. I knew that I always wanted her on
my
team. While she was doing that, Dana and Trog wandered around admiring the various objects d’arte that went with a light saber.  I was still standing in the doorway, letting my eyes travel around the room.  Something seemed wrong.  Yes, Deon was a computer geek, so that fit. Then I looked over at a chair in the corner of the room.  There was a man’s tie slung over it and a pair of men’s loafers beneath it.

“This is a guy’s apartment!” I said suddenly.

“Yes, it is,” a familiar voice behind me said. “Would you like to tell me what you’re doing in it?” My stomach dropped to the floor. I spun around to face the living room.  There was Sachs, frankly looking more annoyed than inquisitive.  That probably wasn’t a good sign. I noted that Agent Wright was taking a sample of the blood, and Agent Wong was on the phone with someone. Great. The gang’s all here. Too bad Agnes missed it. She could have mooned him.

“I
don’t suppose that you would believe that we’re visiting a former sorority sister?” I asked, hoping diffuse the tension with humor.  Hopefully, Sachs would think that this was a good “context” for humor.

“Not unless she lives in Randall Greene’s apartment,” he answered with a slightly dangerous note in his voice. Nope, not a good context for humor.

“Randall Greene’s apartment?” I asked, feeling stunned and confused.

“You didn’t
know
that this was Randall’s apartment,” Sachs asked in a clearly skeptical tone of voice. “So you randomly decided to go out on a Sunday night burglary run and it was just a happy coincidence that you picked the apartment of a missing federal prosecutor?” Apparently, it was a good context for sarcasm though.

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a burglar,” Lena said, looking miffed. “Just what ‘happy coincidence’ brings
you
here tonight?’

“What brings me here is an anonymous call to the FBI reporting a possible break in at this address. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was Randall’s condo.”

“I’ll bet it was the poodle guy,” I said crinkling my nose with disgust.

“There wasn’t enough time,” Dana pointed out. “Besides, how would he have known which apartment we entered? I didn’t hear the elevator come back up and Trog closed the door behind him.”

“So it couldn’t have been the couple in the courtyard either,” I noted.

“They probably just thought we were drunk,” Lena replied. “What time did this call come in?” she asked suspiciously.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Sachs answered.

“And who calls the freaking FBI about a possible break in?” she asked heatedly.  The hands were moving now. He really shouldn’t have implied that she was a criminal.

“Let’s work on that one later, shall we?” Sachs replied. “Perhaps you would first please explain to me what all of you were doing touring Randall Greene’s apartment at ...” he checked his watch “10:30 at night?”

“Trog has been trying to get in touch with his friend Deon,” Dana explained. “She finally contacted him tonight and told him to meet her at this address. You’ll see that there was no forced entry.  She gave him the building code.”

“And did you fail to notice the pool of blood on the floor when you got here?” Sachs asked. Yeah, he didn’t seem to have a problem with sarcasm.

“No, we didn’t fail to notice it,” I shot back. “We came in
because
it was here.”

“Oh! You came in
because
it was here. Now, I understand.” He smiled.

He did? “You do?” I asked uncertainly.

“Are you insane?” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “You learn somehow that there’s blood here and so you decide that you want to come investigate? What are you, a CSI team? Why didn’t you just call the police?”

“Because we weren’t convinced that Trog hadn’t made a mistake. We wanted to be sure before we started getting police down here. Perhaps you would understand if anyone had ever implied that
you
were being a hysterical female,” I answered tartly.

“So Mr. Collins was initially here alone,” Agent Wright spoke up.
Whoops.

“Only for a second!” Trog squealed,  “Like Dana said, Deon sent me a message. Look!” He took out his smartphone and started frantically pushing buttons. A moment later he stopped and just stared at it, first with a look of confusion, and then of horror as all of the color drained out of his face. “It’s gone.  Her message is gone.  I’ve been hacked.
Me
.
I’ve
been hacked. Oh, the irony.”  His voice sounded vacant. He might have been in shock.

“Perhaps you should come to our office to explain things to us in a little more detail,” Agent Wong said, making it sound like a friendly invitation.  I didn’t believe for a second that it would be friendly though.  Trog was screwed thanks to my big mouth. I knew that I had to do something.

I turned to Sachs. “Trog will voluntarily come in for an interview tomorrow, with counsel of course, but I want to talk to you first.”

“Okay, we can talk while you give me a ride back to my office,” he said surprising me as much as he had obviously surprised the two FBI agents. Wong’s mouth actually popped open for a second before he caught himself and snapped it shut again.

It figured that Sachs wanted a ride to his office.  Where else would he be going at 10:30 on a Sunday night? I agreed and after a quick word with Dana and Lena, I left with Boy Wonder beside me.

We stepped into the elevator together and both of reached out for the button at the same time. When his fingers pressed against mine I nearly moaned.
Yeah, that was normal.
The doors slid closed and we both stared up at the numbers above the steel doors.  Why did people always do that? Did we worry that the elevator might take an alternative route? Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I was very much aware of him in the confined space. He seemed to take up an awful lot of it, incidentally. Which might be why it felt like there was no air in there.  What air was left, though, smelled very nice thanks to whatever soap he used. Who smells that good on a Sunday night?

We reached the lobby and the doors slid open, revealing, you guessed it, Poodle guy. What, had been waiting there for us to come back?

“Where are the rest of your friends?” he asked as if he had every right in the world to know exactly what every visitor to his building did.

“They’re still at the orgy,” I said brightly and then I walked right past him, ignoring both his apoplectic look and Marcello’s.

“At the orgy?” Sachs asked, sounding amused as he held the door for me.

“Let him wonder,” I answered and headed toward my car, pulling my jacket around me more tightly. We exited the courtyard and Sachs walked beside me quietly for a moment, just a moment though. As soon as we hit the pavement he started talking.

“Let’s discuss the fact that your client was alone in Greene’s condo with a puddle of blood for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Don’t you want to wait until we get back to your office to discuss this?” I asked, trying to buy myself some time to collect my thoughts.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have started the conversation by saying “Let’s discuss the fact that your client was alone in Greene’s condo with a puddle of blood for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you really don’t have a problem with sarcasm.”

“After we discuss that, maybe we can review the conversation we had the other day, in particular, the part where you promised not to put yourself in any danger on my watch. You recall that, don’t you?”

“I could be wrong here, but I’m sensing some tension.”

“Ya think?” he asked with a laugh.

“I got a call from Dana, who got a call from Trog. He got an email message ...”

“Oh, right! That would be the one that seems to have vanished.”

“Deon is a computer geek and she knows him, at least a bit.  She hacked him to get rid of the evidence.”

“Right, right. Abby, has it ever occurred to you that there may not be a Deon?” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“What did you say?”

“I said has it ever occurred to you ...”

“You called me Abby,” I interrupted.

“That’s your name isn’t it? Do you go by Abigail or Gail or something?”

“No, Abby. You just never used my first name before.”

“We’ve only met once,” he reminded me. “I figured because we were sort of working together ... but I’m sorry if that was presumptuous.”

“No! I like it.  You can call me, Abby ... Jacob.”

“Um, okay.” He gave me an odd look.  “Do mind if we keep walking? I still have a lot to get done tonight.” Of course he did.

“Sure, that’s my car up ahead, the gray Mazda 3.  Now wait, what were you saying about there not being a Deon?” We started off again.

“I’m saying what proof do you have that this person even exists. How do you know that this isn’t some kind of elaborate plan your client is involved in?”

“That includes announcing to the public that he hacked into a system and committed theft? Never mind that, you think he’s involved in some brilliant criminal scheme that involves framing himself for murder?”

“I’m just wondering if he’s really just this innocent dupe or if this all meant to be a distraction from whatever his real agenda might be.”

“Trog’s only ‘agenda’ is to collect comic books and try to impress females who collect comic books. We reached my car and I clicked the electronic locks and hopped in. I put the key in the ignition as he slid in beside me.

“So, that’s what this meeting is about? What you wanted to tell me was ‘My client is innocent.’ Wow I’ve never heard that one before.”

“I wanted to tell you that ...” I turned to face him. If he took up a lot of elevator, you can just imagine how much space he dominated in a Mazda 3. My eyes fell to his lips and I quickly pulled them back up to his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes. “Um, I wanted to say that ...” I swallowed. My train of thought had left the station.

I was definitely going to have to Google “pheromones.” The reaction that this man seemed to create in me was just not normal. I wanted to grab him by the coat lapels, climb into his lap and kiss him stupid. That could have been a very awkward moment.

“Even though we’re supposedly working together, we’re on opposite sides in this matter,” he said before I could ramble incoherently any more. “We have conflicting interests. Legal interests I mean.” He turned to look out the windshield ahead of us.

“You’re going to file charges because of tonight?”

“I have to see what Forensics says.  But maybe I’ll have to, and then we will
officially
be adversaries.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“That happens a lot with prosecutors and defense lawyers,” I noted, furrowing my brow. “What’s your point? Would you rather take a cab back to your office?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Okay, that was an interesting non sequitur.

“Yes,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Is it my imagination, or does there seem to be some attraction between us? I mean, I know that I find you attractive, and I sense that it’s mutual. Am I wrong about that?” He was still staring out the windshield, which definitely helped. I think that if he had been looking right at me I might have passed out. That’s why he had been staring at me at the press conference and in court that day. That’s why he wanted to meet with me. Not because I was the weakest link. He wanted me.
Well, hot damn
.

“I think you know that it’s not your imagination,” I said trying not to gulp. There was nothing more embarrassing than the loud swallow.  Okay, there were some things that were more embarrassing, but the loud swallow was definitely up there. He breathed out heavily and seemed to wrestle with something for a moment.