4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Michael

Hurrying to my office, I ignored the raised eyebrows and hushed whispers of my coworkers I passed in the hallway. I was late, and in desperate need of a decent cup of coffee. My admin, Maggie, stood from her desk as soon as she saw me through the glass walls, meeting me in the middle of the room.

Ignoring her worried face and practically wringing hands, I said, "I desperately need a cup of coffee. Preferably from that one place. The one Tyler always brings the office coffee from."

She raised her eyebrows, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, "Michael–"

"I know, I'm late. Couldn't be helped. It was a hellish night, but I'll get changed as fast as I can. Thank God I keep extra suits here. I'll tell you about it when I'm back. I'm already late for my first case."

"Michael–"

Frowning at the youngish guy I could see through the glass walls of my office, who was seated at my desk, staring at my computer screen, I frowned. "What's the IT nerd doing?"

He didn't even look up from my screen, just said, "Virus."

Rotating my neck from side to side, I let out a relieved sigh as it gave an impressive crack. Dropping my briefcase into one of the vacant chairs in front of my desk, along with my laptop bag, I opened the closet door. Grabbing one of my extra suits I kept at the office, I asked, "Seriously? Fuck. How does that happen? Is my laptop affected?"

Maggie was standing in the doorway that separated our spaces, her eyes wide, face pale. "Michael!" she hissed between clenched teeth.

"What?" Shaking out my suit, I shot her an annoyed look, at the same time the IT guy–I didn't know his name–said, "I can take a look at it when I'm done here."

Maggie pursed her lips into a thin line, then motioned for me to follow her back to her desk.

"I need to change," I told her impatiently, "it's been a crazy twenty-four hours, but you know Judge Townsend hates people being late to her court. "

"They want you on the top floor," she whispered, her eyes darting back to the guy working on my computer.

"What?" All the air left my body with that one word.

Maggie took a deep breath, smoothing her graying auburn hair with one hand. "They want you on the top floor. Harry has called three times asking if you were here yet. I made an excuse. Where have you been? And why are you dressed like that?"

Glancing down at my gray sweats and black hoodie, I shook my head. "My condo building caught on fire last night. This morning? It was late, or early. Whichever way you want to look at it."

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in horror, "Oh my God, are you alright? I mean, you look okay. But what happened? What about your neighbors? Did the Lees get out?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a steadying breath, because my world was still reeling from her telling me I was being summoned to the top floor. Where not only my boss worked, but also his boss.

No one ever got summoned to the top floor for good news.

"I'm fine," I assured her, "the Lees are fine. I helped them navigate the stairs." The Lees and I shared the penthouse floor, as it only contained two units. They were a lovely, elderly Chinese couple, who treated me like a second son. "There's a lot of smoke damage, but the fire started in a vacant unit on the first floor. It was contained to the first three floors, and no one was seriously hurt. Some minor smoke inhalation. I spent the rest of the night in a hotel room. I managed to grab my laptop, keys, and wallet before I vacated. Mrs. Lee gave me hell for grabbing them already, so please don't start with me. Why am I being summoned above?"

Maggie was one of the longest working admins in the district attorney's office, and she had the tea on everyone and everything. She kept my office life running incredibly smoothly and was one of few people that was ever a step ahead of me when it came to getting things done.

She shook her head, "I honestly have no clue. But–" she gave me a sympathetic look and my heart fell straight into my stomach.

As if the last twenty-four hours hadn't been bad enough, it felt like I had walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone . My scraped hands gave a throb, and I remembered tripping yesterday evening after leaving the office.

My mind had been on the cases of the day, still whirling with all the losses and what had gone wrong, and I had tripped on the curb. Falling straight into busy Boston traffic. Somehow, all the blaring horns and screeching tires had managed to miss me and I hadn't been hit by any of the cars. I had scraped my palms on the pavement pretty badly, but otherwise I had been unharmed .

Finally making it safely home, I had spent the next several hours pouring over each case from the day, trying to decipher what had gone wrong with them. Then another two hours going over all my notes for today's schedule. I did not want a repeat of yesterday.

I had barely fallen asleep, when the fire alarms in the building had started blaring. Gray smoke had already been seeping under my front door, and the hallway had been hazy with it, but the fire hadn't reached us yet. The advantage of being on the top floor, I supposed.

Thankfully, all the residents had made it safely outside, but the building was off-limits to all of us until it was cleared for our return. The fire captain had said it might be next week before we would be allowed back in to collect any of our belongings. Even then, depending on how things turned out, we might not be able to stay in our homes for a while, as the structure might not be safe.

All of that paled in comparison to Maggie telling me that they were waiting for me on the top floor. I could only guess it was Harry and his boss, Charles, who were waiting on me. But apparently that wasn't where my bad luck was ending as Maggie had tacked on a ‘but' to her last sentence.

"What?" I was almost afraid to ask.

She sighed heavily, not quite meeting my gaze. "They had me reassign all your cases. "

At my sharp inhalation of breath, she hurriedly added, "Just for the next two weeks. The rest of this week and next. But–"

Sinking down on wobbly legs into the chair in front of her desk, I gripped the edge of her desk tightly. "I'm really starting to hate you saying that word."

She gave me a soft look, her brown eyes glistening with what I hoped weren't tears. Maggie didn't cry. Like ever. She was tough as nails, didn't put up with anyone's bullshit, especially mine, and she knew the in's and out's of this office like I knew how to deliver closing arguments. Pretty damn well. "They told me to be on standby to reassign the week after that."

"Fuck," I whispered, my vision going spotty. Raising my head to give her an imploring look, I whispered, "Am I fired?"

"No!" She leaned against her desk, her arms crossed over her chest. "No, this–whatever this is–isn't being handled like a termination. And they aren't going to terminate their best prosecuting attorney because of one bad day in court."

"Every single case, Mags," my voice was rough and hoarse. "I lost every single case yesterday."

"Oh, Michael, get over that ego of yours," she admonished sharply. "Do you think you're the only lawyer in this office that loses cases? Please," she rolled her eyes, "Kevin loses more than he wins and he's still here. Fuck knows why. Taking up space is all he's good for." Her desk phone rang, and she eyed it with distaste. Glancing over her shoulder so she could read the caller I.D., she told me, "That's them. Again. I'm going to tell them you're on your way up. Go. Stand tall, shoulders back, and remember that you're Michael Endicott, their golden boy hotshot."

"Michael," Harry stood from the seat in front of Charles' desk, his concerned eyes taking in my disheveled appearance, "are you alright?"

I probably should have taken the time to change into my suit and make myself look halfway presentable. But since Maggie had picked up the phone and told them I was coming up, I didn't have the time.

Shaking his hand, I shook my head, waving off his concern. "I'm fine. Rough night."

Charles nodded, "The fire at your building was on the news. Everyone got out? "

Harry indicated for me to sit in the only other vacant chair next to his, so I did. "Yes, thankfully. Some minor smoke inhalation, but no other casualties."

"I'm sure you're wondering why we asked to see you," Charles didn't waste any time getting down to it.

Nodding, I sat up straighter in the chair. "And why you've reassigned my cases for the next two weeks?"

"Ah," Harry sighed, "Maggie told you, then?"

Turning narrowed eyes to him, I asked, "Did you think she wouldn't? What's going on? Are you firing me?"

So much for playing it cool.

"Of course not," Harry hurried to assure me.

"But–" Charles cut in, his bushy white brows frowning as he slid a file folder in front of him and flipped it open.

I was getting really tired of all the ‘buts' people were throwing my way this morning. They weren't at all the usual kinds of butts I enjoyed.

Turning my full attention to Charles, I waited for him to continue, wondering what exactly was in that file folder he was perusing, his finger running down the page, looking for something. "It has come to our attention that you routinely clock eighty or more hours in a week."

"And? That's about normal for most of us."

"Kevin clocks about fifty," Harry said quietly.

"Kevin is an idiot!" I snapped. "He graduated last in his class and failed the bar three times. "

"Be that as it may," Charles flipped the folder closed with a snap of his wrist, "Kevin–and most of your colleagues–take time off. You have never taken any time off. We aim to remedy that. You are on leave–paid, of course–for the next two weeks. We will decide together at the end of those two weeks if, perhaps, another week is needed."

At my stormy expression, Harry jumped back into the conversation, probably trying to do damage control between Charles and me. "We've had Maggie reassign your workload for the time being. We just feel, after yesterday, that you might need a bit of a break. A breather. Just some time to clear your head."

"After yesterday," I repeated, my lips pursed into a tight line. "So, I'm being punished for yesterday? Your Golden Boy doesn't deliver one day, and I'm out."

"No one said anything about you being out," Charles growled, leaning back in his chair. "Michael, we aren't firing you. We're trying to help you. The fact that you can't see that is your ego getting in your own way. You're quite frankly our best prosecutor. However, I–we–" his gaze fell to Harry, who nodded his agreement, "feel you might be on your way to burning out. And none of us want that to happen. You're too brilliant for that. You're taking a break, Michael, just the rest of this week, and next. More if you need it, but this is non-negotiable. "

Slumping back in the seat, feeling defeated, I asked, "What about the Marcone case? We expect the judge to sign off on the warrants any day now? The cops already shut down two of his factories. We've got two of his top guys locked up now. One of them is bound to turn on him."

Francesco Marcone was becoming one of the top drug dealers in Boston. He was tied to a dozen other crimes, including prostitution, human trafficking, kidnapping, and murder. Unfortunately, no charges had stuck yet, and there had been no solid evidence linking him to anything.

However, I strongly believed where there was enough smoke there was bound to be a fire.

My office, along with various police task forces, including Derek, had been working for months to gather enough evidence to get the necessary warrants to bring him down. Or at least to allow us to search and find something that would lead us somewhere.

It was a huge case, which would likely end up with the Feds being called in, and it had been mine from the beginning. I had been the one to link his name to several drug crimes that had come across my desk. Derek had linked his name to some missing person cases, and when we had put all of our cases together, Francesco's name had been smack in the middle of them all.

There was no way in hell I was sitting on the sidelines for this case .

Harry and Charles exchanged a look between them I couldn't decipher.

"For the time being, we've assigned it to Shelby," Harry held up a hand at the garbled sound I made, "just for the next two weeks, in case anything breaks on it while you're gone. She is well aware it's your case. It's doubtful anything will happen in that time, anyway."

"So, that's it then?" I ran a hand through my hair in agitation. "I'm just supposed to do what for the next two weeks?"

"Enjoy yourself?" Charles said.

"Take a vacation?" Harry suggested, then added, "I had lunch with your dad yesterday. He mentioned he and Jessica haven't seen you in quite a while. Not since Christmas, and you barely stayed for dinner. Maybe go visit your parents. They don't live that far from the city."

Sometimes I forgot Harry and my dad were old college buddies. No wonder my dad had called me yesterday. No doubt they had been gossiping about my unusual losses, which had continued well past their lunch.

Salem would be the last place on my theoretical list of vacation destination spots.

Unless…

Could all of this–all the bad luck–have been caused by my one-night stand? Had the guy actually put a curse on me ?

I didn't believe it, not for a minute, but…there was a part of me, deep down, that was wondering if whatever was happening in my life was possibly caused by something…supernatural.

Yep, it was official, I was losing my fucking mind.

Maybe I did need a vacation. Or a break.

Or someone to break a curse?

Well, Salem was a good place to find someone to do that. There was someone advertising that they were a witch practically on every corner. It was a great tourist attraction.

Was I honestly entertaining the idea of driving to Salem and finding a…what? A witch? A real one? Someone who could undo whatever that angry little twink had done to me?

I didn't believe in witches, but I couldn't deny that my life had been turned upside down and on its head ever since that guy had uttered his complete nonsense of a…spell? A curse? Complete drivel that I was letting fuck with my head?

Was I so cocky I was trying to blame something–anything–on the bad luck that had fallen over me the last couple of days, instead of admitting that I might possibly have been at fault for any of it?

And wasn't that just a kick in the ass. No, I knew I had tried those cases competently and well. I definitely wasn't to blame for the fire. The only thing that I truly knew I was to blame for was my tripping over the curb into traffic. Because my mind had been muddled with the day's events, and trying to figure out where everything had gone off the rails, I hadn't been paying any attention to my surroundings.

The rest of it, though…while I didn't believe in witchcraft, or any of it, there was a small part of me that kept landing back on the quietly chanted words from my hookup. A part of me that felt like I could feel some evil force at work.

It was official. I was losing it.

Which explained why later that day, after stopping to buy some clothes and essentials, my car was pointed North out of Boston and headed for my hometown.

Salem was only about a thirty-minute drive from the city if traffic was light, but it usually ended up taking me about forty-five minutes. It wasn't like I could even get back into my condo anytime soon, I reasoned with myself. I'd rather wallow at my parents' house, in my old bedroom, than a hotel room, at least for a few days. And I hadn't seen them since Christmas, which was almost a year ago.

I couldn't believe I was even entertaining the idea of finding an honest to God witch and breaking whatever curse that little fucker had put on me.

I was never picking up a random twink in a club again, as long as I lived.