CHAPTER 4
C HAPTER 4
R ae had intended to go straight from the meeting to the county courthouse to take care of semitrivial matters that a larger firm would assign to a staffer. But she was the one-and-only. A young mother desperate to escape her twin infant daughters worked part-time, handling office work and keeping the practice’s books. Otherwise, Rae was on her own. Which was precisely the way she wanted things to stay.
But the conversation with her uncle, the way Colton had stressed his warning and hammered in his concern, slowed her movements. She felt as if she was already under a federal microscope. Being watched, studied, judged.
She stopped at the coffee shop favored by many of the attorneys and courthouse workers. Ever since starting her solitary practice, there had been moments when Rae had felt overwhelmed by everything she didn’t know. The practice of law was so different from school that Rae sometimes felt as if she had studied another subject entirely. One only slightly related to what she dealt with out here in the real world.
This was definitely one of those times.
Her initial response to Colton’s warning was to grab hold of another attorney, put together a joint sale, have this outsider check her work, ensure everything was aboveboard. But the more she pondered, the more certain she became that something else was required.
She was still sitting there, reviewing options, when her phone chimed. She had a special tone for her aunt. Emma’s health remained a very real concern, made worse by the woman’s stubborn refusal to accept the medical assistance her worsening condition required.
Her aunt texted: Come for dinner.
Can’t. Working.
Girl, this was not an invitation.
Same answer.
Curtis just left. I have news that can’t wait.
Rae sighed in defeat. Six o’clock work for you?
Emma chimed a smiley face. Happy to have won. Again.
Rae left the café, crossed over to the courthouse, then halted midway around to what local attorneys called the minions’ entrance. She stepped off the sidewalk and entered the shade of two blooming dogwoods. The spot was so often used by attorneys needing a quiet spot the ground had become hardpacked. As she dialed the familiar number, Rae wondered why it had taken her so long to realize this was the logical next step. Perhaps the only one.
“Dana Bowen’s office.”
“Hi, this is Rae Alden.”
The words should not have shamed her like they did. But Rae had allowed the contact with her favorite professor to gradually fade to nothing. She could not remember the last time she had been in touch.
Despite the lapsed time, Dana Bowen’s personal assistant recalled her well enough to brighten. “Oh, Ms. Alden. Good afternoon. I know Dana would like to talk, but she’s in court all this week.”
“I have something urgent that’s come up. I need to speak with her on a legal matter. On the record. And on the clock.”
The PA was aged in his mid-thirties and knew both law and his boss. “It has to be this week?”
“As soon as possible. Please.”
“I know she would want to make this happen. Let’s see. Depositions the day after tomorrow aren’t supposed to begin until ten. I know Dana had planned on handling other business that morning, but I’m sure she would be more than willing to make time. How about eight-thirty?”
“Booked. Thank you so much.” Rae cut the connection and carried her flood of relief into the courthouse.
She completed her work in half an hour. Less. Then she returned to the café, opened her laptop, and accessed her legal files by thumbprint and code. Rae spent the next two hours burrowing through everything she had on the long-overdue Landon Barrett, her power of attorney, and all the documents related to the property. She wanted to have everything there at her fingertips, ready for whatever Dana Bowen might toss her way.
Rae had been involved in Barrett’s acquisition of Cape Fortune since the very beginning. Her success in bringing together the disparate owners and getting them to agree to the sale—and the price—was why she had gained Landon Barrett as a long-term client. She sought any hint of illegality, any item however small that might suggest a wrong move. Something that the DEA could use as a lever to pry open her life.
She found nothing.
For over a century, the property had belonged to a local fishing clan. Soon after the Second World War, the two brothers had argued, and the land had been divided. A generation later, it was rendered into six separate parcels, all still held by distant relatives of the original settlers.
Rae had no illusions as to why she had been selected to represent Landon Barrett. The man wanted a local. Someone who could speak with all these family members as one of their own. And it had worked. For a sizeable amount of cash, Barrett had managed to acquire the entire nine acres. Three hundred forty feet fronting the Intracoastal Waterway. Six piers, multiple dwellings, options for commercial and private usage guaranteed through its continuous use, going back to the island’s early days. All so Barrett could build Cape Fortune, his dream home.
When the courthouse closed two hours later, she had identified nothing that explained why her client was being investigated by the DEA.
But Rae definitely had her suspicions.