Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Josie
A few clichés about the lawyer world had proven to be true within my first year.
Ruthless competition? Check.
Long hours? Double check.
The adage that if you don’t have a mental breakdown your first three years, it means you’re cut out for it? Also true.
I had found ways to cope with my stress, especially since I’d received my own office. Behind the closed door, I could do whatever I wanted, and I took full advantage of that.
Usually that meant kicking off my heels and walking around barefoot. I had various tools to help with the back strain from sitting too long. I was currently sitting on a medicine ball, pressing my feet on a small reflex therapy mat.
September was a busy month for us, and I already needed a time-out. I couldn’t believe the honeymoon was already a month and a half ago.
I only had phone conferences for the rest of the day, but no physical appointments. Which was why, when one of my assistants called me, telling me they had someone here to see me, I was perplexed.
I checked my calendar, frowning. “I don’t have anything on my schedule.”
Drop-ins were highly unusual.
“It’s someone from the immigration office.”
I gripped the mouse so tightly that I almost couldn’t feel my fingers anymore.
“Should I tell her to come in?”
“Of course.” I forced my voice to remain calm. I couldn’t kid myself that this had anything to do with any of my cases. Immigration officials didn’t just come to one’s office. But I could pass it off to my superiors as research for one of my cases if anyone got wind of it.
Assistants usually didn’t discuss our business.
My legs were shaking a little when I rose from the ball. I immediately rolled it away, drawing my chair closer. I also put on my shoes as I watched the door open.
A woman in her midforties strode in. Her white-blond hair was styled in a strict bun. She wore a suit that made her fit right in here with the rest of us.
“Hello. I’m Josie Gallagher. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I stepped from behind my desk, extending my hand. She shook it briefly.
“I’m the immigration worker in charge of your husband’s file.”
Nodding, I pointed her to the chair in front of my desk.
“Please, sit down. Do you want anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”
There. I sounded calm, as if her visit didn’t stress me out. I didn’t know if I looked calm, though. I felt as if I was in front of a judge, about to be sentenced. My entire face felt hot. My mind was racing a mile an hour. I wished I had gone to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
The more I tried to calm myself down, the more I panicked. What if I said the wrong thing? What if the agent could read between the lines?
“You know why I’m here?” she asked.
“You said you’re working on my husband’s case, so I’m assuming it’s about that. How can I help?”
I set my elbows on the table, clasping my hands, hoping I was projecting a calm image.
“I won’t beat around the bush. You’re under the suspicion of having committed marriage fraud.”
My stomach bottomed out, but I held my chin high, didn’t allow any emotions to show.
“What do you have to say to that?” the officer pushed.
“I’m a lawyer. I work by the credo, innocent until proven guilty. Of course, it’s not true.”
“The timeline of your marriage is very suspicious.”
“And why is that?”
“You went from engaged to married in three weeks.”
“My parents met at a wedding, and they were married within the month.” It wasn’t even a lie.
“Ms. Gallagher, you are aware of the penalties for a sham marriage, right?”
“As I said, I’m a lawyer. You can rest assured I wouldn’t do anything against the law.”
“I see. And yet your marriage has raised several red flags. Why did you keep your name?”
“You consider that a red flag? I’m a lawyer, I have a reputation. People know my name. I didn’t want to lose that brand awareness.”
“Or you didn’t want to have to go through the process of changing it back after Mr. Caldwell received his green card.”
“Look, you can twist this however you want. I can just tell you the facts.”
“If you were to confess to the sham, I am sure I can work out a lower penalty for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. She thought she could turn me against Hunter? This woman didn’t know who she was dealing with.
“I know you’re just trying to do your job, but there’s a difference between questioning and intimidation. You cannot intimidate me. Frankly, your insinuations are offensive. So unless you have any more questions about facts, we can wrap this up.”
She scoffed, taking out a small notebook from her bag.
“When did you two meet?”
“In high school.”
“And you were friends for fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
“When did that friendship turn into a romantic entanglement?”
When he kissed me for the first time.
I couldn’t say that, of course. Instead, I pasted what I hoped passed as a dreamy expression on my face and repeated the story Hunter and I had concocted.
One night about a year ago, after he drove me home from an event we’d both attended, I invited him upstairs and we ended up in bed.
After that, we were friends with benefits for some months.
“But both you and Mr. Caldwell were seeing other people at that time.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Who had they been talking to?
“We were not exclusive.”
“When did things change?”
“When I told him that I could no longer do this casually. That I wanted more… some sort of commitment. I honestly thought he’d end things. You know men can be fickle when it comes to commitment.”
I got no sympathy smile from her.
“Anyway, he surprised me. Said his feelings for me had deepened too.”
“Did he propose then?”
“Yes. It was… as I said, completely unexpected. He didn’t even have a ring.
” In a flash of inspiration, I added, “He made this very romantic gesture where he had an employee from Tiffany’s bring by a selection at my place so we could choose together.
” I held up my hand, pointing to my ring finger. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
There. She could check with the store employee and confirm this story.
“How long have you lived together?”
“Two months, I think? He’d been house hunting for a while, but when we decided to take the next step, he involved me in the process too. We had an excellent realtor. Her name is Darla Lopez. She showed us this beautiful house, and I fell in love with it. Hunter bought it right away.”
She pursed her lips, jotting down notes.
“ He bought it? You didn’t buy it together?”
“It’s in both our names,” I said, almost through gritted teeth.
“What is your morning routine?”
“I do thirty minutes of yoga, then hop in the shower. He exercises in the evening, so he sleeps in every morning.”
“What kind of aftershave does he use?”
“You’re kidding, right? I barely remember the name of my own body lotion.”
“What’s his favorite food? What is yours?”
“We both like steaks.”
The officer threw question after question at me. I also detected some classic witness interrogation traps, such as rephrasing a question several times in the hope that the subject would give different answers.
My experience as a lawyer served me well. I didn’t fumble. Still, once she was out of my office and I slumped back in my chair, I discovered that I was shaking slightly. I needed to get a grip on myself, because I had a phone conference in twenty minutes.
I used the break to head to the bathroom and splash some much-needed cold water on my face. That went well, didn’t it?
Or was I being overly optimistic?
Shit. I had to let Hunter know—warn him in case he’d be questioned too. I hurried back to my office and sent him a quick message.
Josie: An immigration agent just came into work. I think it went okay.
I wanted to give him more details, but I came up blank. The adrenaline still hadn’t left my system and it was making it very hard to focus. Damn it, Josie. Pull yourself together. You have a conference call with a client.
I could ask my assistant to postpone it, but I didn’t want to give anyone any reason to doubt me. I could pass off the agent’s visit as work related. But if I cancelled a meeting right afterward? Someone might put two and two together.
The phone call was scheduled in one of the conference rooms, where we had a professional sound and image system.
I left my office armed with a legal pad and a pen, as well as the client’s file, and casually stopped by my assistant’s desk.
“Hey. Everything went okay with the officer?”
“Yes. She was here for some research I’m doing. I completely forgot to add her to my calendar.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s unlike you.”
I smacked my forehead playfully. “Freshly married brain and all that. Don’t fall in love. Messes with your memory.”
She chuckled, nodding.
“I’m heading to the conference room for the call. It might take longer. You know how these things go. Don’t wait for me.”
“Sure.”
I arranged everything in the conference room, armed with the summary page of the case, listening to the client. But half my brain cells were still rewinding everything I’d told our case worker. Had it been enough? Had it been too much—as if I was trying too hard? Had they questioned Hunter too?
Even though I didn’t like checking my phone while I was in a conference, I glanced at the screen, grateful that the client had preferred to do this audio-only.
My phone’s battery was dead. Great. Just great. What if Hunter had called or messaged, wanting more details? What if he didn’t remember my favorite food or whatever and he wanted to double-check?
“What’s that sound?” the client asked sharply. Shit. I was tapping my fingers against the desk. I needed to get a grip on myself.
“Better now?” I curled my left hand into a fist, laying it in my lap.
“Yes. So… Josie, do you think we can win this?”
I was great at my job. I loved helping people, fighting for them. But I didn’t like to give them false hope before I’d had a chance to sink my teeth into their case.