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Something about Vivian was lighter on Monday night. He didn’t feel right saying a burden seemed to have lifted off of her soul—especially since she still had a twinge of secret about her person—but her skin looked less tight around her face, and her eyes were brighter. He wouldn’t have thought contacting an aunt and emailing a couple of friends would be so rejuvenating, but then he’d never felt absolutely alone in the world as she had.
Their relationship was complicated. Until she found work of her own she was reliant on him, and he was surprised at how little that bothered him. Not that he wanted her to depend upon him, but when she’d first said she was pregnant and broke and unemployed, he’d felt as though someone had wrapped a noose around his neck, thrown it over a tree and at any moment would kick the horse out from under him.
The noose had disappeared without him noticing. He hadn’t even realized it was gone until they were in the echoing silence of the only empty space in a busy museum and he could take deep, relaxing breaths. She’d smiled when he grabbed her wrist and they’d finished touring the museum holding hands.
It was a pleasant memory that had carried him through to today when he picked up the CD left on top of his desk. The law department must have sent someone over with it first thing Tuesday morning because it hadn’t been here on Monday. He loaded the disc onto the computer and began searching for files. File after file was full of black where information had been redacted from the scanned documents.
He took a deep breath before he called for his assistant. The smell of cigarette smoke preceded her entrance into his office. “Did they send another disc, Greta? Perhaps one without half the information redacted?”
“There was a note on the disc.”
He picked up the jewel case and found the note, which was nothing more than a sticky with the excuses of “attorney-client privilege” and “work papers” written on it.
“The bastard didn’t even have the decency to type it,” he muttered. The lawyer, Ken Jorgenson, was skirting the line of complying with his subpoena and blatantly ignoring legal courtesy.
“What was that?” Greta asked.
“Nothing. I’ll need Kevin Jorgenson on the phone as soon as you can get him.”
“The courier who dropped off the CD said Jorgenson left for his annual fishing vacation last night.”
Coward. Jorgenson had known what he was doing and left some poor underling to deal with the angry phone calls.
“Track down whoever Jorgenson left behind to take the heat. It’ll give me someone to refine my anger on. Schedule a meeting for after lunch.”
* * *
“BAD DAY?”
Karl looked up from the computer, wincing when his neck protested the change in position. Malcolm leaned against the office door frame, his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. Working for the FBI had given Malcolm a decidedly off sense of humor.
“You know it is.” Between staring at the computer and trying to guess what the redacted words were, Karl had a headache to match the crick in his neck. “What law school Jorgenson went to that would give him the idea he could withhold this information from me by claiming attorney-client privilege is beyond me. Their accreditation should be revoked.”
Malcolm’s smile widened. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“There’s good news?”
“Sure. I found out why your wife was fired from her job in Vegas.”
Karl didn’t remember telling Malcolm that Vivian had been fired, and only Malcolm would think that was good news. Karl found himself in the awkward position of not wanting to know for fear he’d have to care. And, as ashamed as he was to admit it to himself, this was why he hadn’t tried to find out the information on his own. “And the bad news?”
The smile was gone. “Your lovely wife—and I know she’s lovely now because I’ve seen pictures—was fired because she cheated the casino out of money while dealing a table.”
Karl set his pen down on his notepad and minimized the computer window. Vivian’s secrets were worse than he’d suspected. “Explain.”
“After you as good as told me not to bother probing, I knew I had to figure out where your wife came from.” Malcolm could never pass a rock without turning it over. “If Middle Kingdom hadn’t been so cagey about my inquiries, I probably would’ve left it alone. Given how closely they were holding on to their secrets, you should be impressed it took me less than two weeks to get the information and I didn’t even have to go there in person.”
