Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

UGH. ANDERSON.

Holly

I lead my bewildered client through the warren of hallways that attach the police station to the courthouse and then up a narrow staircase that leads to the DA’s offices. There are lawyers who don’t even know these three buildings connect, but as a former assistant district attorney, I know all the ins and outs, nooks and crannies, and shortcuts.

I hang a sharp right with Jack on my heels and push open an unmarked door. We emerge in the hallway behind the lobby of the district attorney’s office. As we circle around to the front of the reception desk, Chantal Taylor greets me with a genuine smile.

“Holly Jolly, long time, no see.”

“Hey, Chantal,” I reply warmly. “Is Anderson around?”

One eyebrow shoots up to her hairline. I hurry to explain so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I have a case with him. I’ve been assigned to represent Mr. Bell in the criminal trespass case.” I gesture to Jack, who gives Chantal a friendly wave.

“Oh?” She draws out the syllable. “That’s … something.”

“It’s something, all right,” I agree. “Is he here?”

She gives a nod. As she taps a candy cane-striped fingernail to buzz his office, she informs me he wants us to call him Anders.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Anders, opposing counsel for the criminal trespass is here to see you.”

I note that she didn’t tell him it was me, and I’m glad. I’d like to have the element of surprise for this conversation.

She nods and hangs up the phone. “He said to show you and your client to Conference Room B and he’ll be there in a few minutes. I assume I don’t need to show you the way.”

She gives me a pained smile and I know she’s realized the hallway that leads to Conference Room B will take me right past the supply closet where my love life fell apart. During the office Christmas in July party last summer, I opened the closet to grab more swizzle sticks for the bartender and found Anderson and our boss half-naked and exploring each other’s tonsils.

“I like your nails,” I tell her, both because I do and because it forestalls any discussion of Anderson’s very public betrayal.

She waggles them at me. “Thanks. Hey, Holly?”

“Yeah?” I turn.

“I hope you jingle his bells,” she stage whispers.

I’m not entirely sure the euphemism holds up but I appreciate the sentiment. I suppress a laugh and give Chantal a wink. “Thanks.”

I turn and lead Jack toward the conference room.

“See you at the tree lighting!” she calls. I wave my hand without turning around.

My cheeks burn as I pass the closet. I’m dreading seeing Anderson, but at least there’s no danger of running into Tabitha Waterson. The district attorney famously drives into Burlington for a marathon day of shopping on Black Friday. In fact, I’m surprised Anderson didn’t go with her. Last I heard, Anderson and Tabitha were still together.

But then, I’m not exactly in the loop on the office gossip. After my humiliation at the party, I couldn’t bear to work with the two of them, so I resigned. Our family attorney, Marley Jacobs, offered me a job as an associate. I almost took it. And maybe, someday, I’ll join her. But I wanted more criminal law experience first, and the public defender’s office is always hiring. What it lacks in pay, it makes up for in a heavy caseload and long hours, so the positions are hard to fill.

But even though there are only a handful of PDs and ADAs in the county, my office has been careful not to schedule me on any cases with Anderson. And I assume the District Attorney’s office has been doing the same. But nobody tells a judge no. So here I am.

“Are we going in?”

Jack’s question interrupts my reverie and I realize I’ve come to a stop in front of the conference room door and am standing frozen, like one of the ice sculptures that will be on display in the town square all month.

“Right. Yes.”

I push the door open and gesture for him to take a seat. Then I walk around to the credenza and pour each of us a glass of ice water from the pitcher sitting on a pretty red and green tray.

“You seem to know your way around here pretty well,” he observes as I slide a coaster onto the table in front of him and take one for myself.

I place his glass on the coaster. “I used to work here.”

“You switched sides?”

“I did. I started my career in the ADA’s office right out of law school. Last summer I moved over to the public defender’s office.” I take a sip.

“How is it?”

I put my glass down. “The water?”

He laughs, and I try not to notice how his eyes crinkle sexily. I fail miserably. Darn you, Delphina.

“No. The new job.”

“Oh, right.” I pause and think. “I’m glad I made the move. When you’re representing the government, you have this sense that you’re working for the greater good. But I’m representing people. Real people. And it’s different. The accused deserve representation. They deserve someone to advocate for them. To protect them. I see the system differently now that I’ve been on both sides of it.” I feel compelled to add, “Of course, there’s not much crime around here.”

He’s about to respond when the door swings open. Anderson stops in the doorway, his dark eyes wide, his jaw hinged open.

“Holly?” he croaks.

“Anderson,” I answer coolly.