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She doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t give her a chance to ask more questions. I grab all of Cole’s messages and head back to his office, where I weed through the ones I can handle, and pull out the ones I know he needs to deal with today. Next, I sit down at his conference table and go through the caseload his team is handling and look for the red flags he needs to address. Most of the staff is gone when Cole walks into the office. “Alex and Reese just left for dinner alone. They need to make sure they connect one-on-one.”
“How do you feel about it?” I ask as he sits down next to me.
“Like it’s magic. This is what we need. He’ll take Houston to the places I would have had I stayed, which means taking on the state of Texas and beyond.”
His office phone buzzes. “Cole.”
“Yes, Julia?” he says to the receptionist.
“There’s a woman here asking for Lori, but ah—I think you both need to come here—” She lowers her voice. “Now. Come now.”
Both of our eyes go wide and we’re on our feet in two flat seconds. We cross the office side by side. “Do you think it’s a reporter over the Roger thing? Or maybe a reporter that found out I met with the DA?”
“A reporter wouldn’t surprise me,” he agrees.
We reach the lobby and find Julia standing, waiting on us. “She’s in the conference room. She says she needs immediate representation and she’s got blood down her neck. I don’t think she knows. Do you want me to call the police?”
I look at Cole, a question in my eyes. “We’ll call the police,” he says. “Just not yet.” He looks at Julia. “We’ll handle it.” He eyes me. “Let’s go talk to her. We’ll call the police with her, regardless of whether we represent her or not.”
I nod and we round the reception desk and walk down a hallway to enter the conference room. The woman is facing the window but turns at our entry. She’s pretty, brunette, petite, mid-thirties—maybe forty—but her hair is a bit wild and her pink blouse is missing a button. Cole shuts the door. “I want to hire you, Lori,” she says, glancing at Cole and then me. “I need a woman. Only a woman can understand. I need client-attorney privilege.”
“We need to know the facts of the case,” Cole says, “and we need to know before we commit to represent you.”
She cuts her gaze and when she looks at us again, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m Jenna Reynolds. My husband is Mike Reynolds, as in the famous sportscaster. I killed him. He was hitting me again—again, he just—he hit me all the time and I didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice lifts on the final words. She sucks in air and exhales. “I grabbed for something to get him off me and I hit him. I don’t even know what it was. I just reached. His head—his head started—bleeding.” She yanks up her blouse and there’s massive bruising down her ribs, some yellow and some dark black, like she’s taken multiple beatings at random times. “There are plenty more. My back. My head, but you can’t see that. He hit me in places that no one would see.” She grabs the back of a chair. “I didn’t call the police. I saw Lori on TV. I saw her closing arguments. I need help. He’s powerful. He’s friends with the police commissioner. Please help.”
I step forward and press my hands to the chair across from her. “Why didn’t you leave him?”
“He threatened to ruin my mother, to bankrupt her, and I believed he would. She—she has investments and—he could have done worse, I believed that, too. She’s all I have.”
My gut knots. Like my mother was for me before Cole. Cole’s hand comes down on my arm. “Let’s go talk.”
I nod. “We’ll be right back.”
I turn and exit the room with Cole on my heels. The minute we’re in the hallway and the conference room door shuts, I face Cole. “I want this case. I know the police commissioner might be a problem, but Cole—”
“It’s your case, Lori,” he says. “It’s the one. It’s your case.”
“She needs you. I’m still too green. I know this. I’m objective.”
“Anyone who has you or me has us both, but she wants you. This is your case to lead.”
“You want me to lead?”
“Yes. I do, and she does, too.”
“Am I ready?”
He kisses my hand. “You were born ready, sweetheart.”
“I need you on this,” I say.
“I’ll second.”
“You can’t second. You own the firm.”
“I will happily second to you and not because you’re my wife, but because she does need a woman. As another female, you’ll give her credibility. If you believe in her, the jury can, too.”
“I want to take it, but can we handle the police?”
