Page 157 of Lorenzo

“It tastes like wine.”

I look at her. “Philistine.”

She laughs into the glass as Mocha comes charging back toward us.

Mocha drops the ball between us, but this time Donna bends to pick it up.

She throws it deep into the yard, and he races after it without hesitation.

“You didn’t answer me,” I say.

“I know.”

“Was he with you then?”

She watches Mocha disappear into the shadows near the fence.

“No. I got him after I left.”

There is enough in her tone to tell me the subject goes deeper than the simple answer.

“Can you tell me what happened there? You obviously weren’t there that long.”

She's silent for a moment.

“No, I wasn’t,” she finally says. “I was at the top of my class. I became one of the youngest field agents. I was assigned to a task force, which is very rare for someone my age.”

She goes silent as Mocha comes bounding back, but this time, she doesn’t throw the ball; she just puts her hand out to pet him. He seems to sense her mood and drops the ball to go to her.

He presses against her legs, and she lowers her hand to the back of his neck.

“Something went wrong. Somehow a big bust got leaked; evidence went missing.”

I turn to her. “They blamed you?” I ask incredulously. “There’s no way you would—”

But she shakes her head. “No, they knew I didn’t do it. In fact, they knew exactly who did it. A senior agent. A senior agent who was a legacy. His father and grandfather were in the Bureau. Which meant that someone had to take the fall for him.” She takes another slow sip of wine. “I saw the signs. I knew they were going to pin it on me, so I cut out of there before they could ruin my reputation.”

Anger burns hot in my chest.

“They protected him and sacrificed you.”

Her mouth twists. “That was the plan. I didn’t let it get that far.”

“You should have exposed them.”

“I was going to,” she says. “That’s how I met Julian. I hired him to represent me. I wanted to bring the whole thing down. The agent, the supervisors covering for him, everyone who knew what they were doing.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“With what proof?” she asks. “The evidence they were already making disappear?”

I have no answer for that.

“Julian was the objective realist I needed. He recognized that I had nothing. Suspicion, motive, and a very convincing story. But that’s all. If I fought them, they would destroy my career and make me look vindictive while they did it.”

“So you left.”

“Yes.” The admission costs her. “Julian negotiated my departure, made sure I left with my record intact, and told me to build something they couldn’t take from me.”