Chapter 24
Allison
I’ll make this right, I tell myself, the only thought that brings even momentary relief. I’ll get a judge to temporarily reinstate him. And then, when the DNA and print results come back, I’ll bury Trinity—
A knock at my door. Aaron, the associate, holding a stack of papers. Still as formal as ever, dressed in a three-piece suit, his necktie taut against his collar and perfectly dimpled. “May I come in?”
I wave him in. “Those are the revisions?”
“They’re in final, yes.”
He hands me the papers. With Aaron doing much of the grunt work, we have put together a complaint, a motion for a temporary restraining order, and a supporting legal brief, asking the court to force Mortimer College to keep Luke on as coach until the matter is more fully litigated.
“May I sit?” he asks.
“You don’t have to ask for permission to sit,” I snap. “Or call me ‘ma’am.’ This isn’t the army.” I look over the papers. All my edits have been incorporated. I peek at him. “Sorry, I’m a little tense.”
“It’s your brother. Understood.”
“This is terrific, Aaron. And done so quickly. What’s your take on our chances?”
His head bobs side to side. “A private school gets a lot of leeway in these situations. We’d have an uphill climb. Maybe a TRO, but not an injunction that lasts more than a few days.”
That’s my take, too. The odds are against us. The school can probably do whatever it wants in this situation. But sometimes you win by simply out-lawyering the other side.
“Knock knock.” In my doorway is Harp, as always with the leather jacket and jeans, and something tucked under her arm. “I can come back. Just call.”
“No, come in, we’re done. Jennifer Harper, meet Aaron Starks. Aaron’s an associate working on the congressman’s case. Harp is our ace investigator.”
Aaron gets to his feet and offers his hand. “Look forward to working with you.”
Harp gives him a once-over first and isn’t subtle about it. “Likewise,” she says.
“Unless there’s anything else? I’ll leave you.” Aaron all but clicks his heels and salutes before leaving.
Harp drops into the chair where Aaron had been sitting, fanning herself with her hand.
“Down, girl,” I say. “We work together.”
“You can look, even if you can’t touch.”
“I’m his boss.” Aaron is no doubt easy on the eyes, broad-shouldered and trim, warm eyes. But it’s like something clicked off inside me long ago. My mind doesn’t move to that next level of imagination, of fantasy. I may not be cut out for being single. I don’t know how.
“And that’s a problem because…?” She tosses today’s Tribune on my desk.
I’ve seen it. Several people have taken photos and sent it to me.
The Chicago Tribune’s front page, bottom right.
The headline: Accused Coach Hires Big Gun—His Sister.
The photo of us outside the courthouse. The story continues inside with a shot of Luke in his uniform and a stock photo of me from our law firm’s website.
“Talk about unintended consequences,” says Harp. “I tip off the state police about Trinity, but your brother gets busted.”
“Tell me about it.” I rub my temples.
“At least your suspicions about Trinity were right. There were pills in her car.”
I don’t respond. When I asked Harp to play informant, I left out the part about my planting those Oxy pills. No one can ever know about that.
My phone buzzes. A text from Luke. Suspension with pay, it reads. Will call later.
“Fuck,” I blurt out. “He should’ve let me go with him.”
“Sounds like you need to handle something.” Harp gets up. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay.”
I call Luke. It rings three times. I’m expecting voicemail, but he answers.
“We’ll sue,” I say. “The complaint’s ready. We can file this afternoon.”
“No, don’t,” he says. “We worked out a deal.”
“A—a deal? What kind of deal?”
“They agreed that Alan would be the interim coach. The team’s in good hands.”
“But what about you?” I plead. “You’re getting screwed.”
“Well, I’m making the best of the sit—”
“Luke, let me help you. Please let me help you. Let’s at least try.”
Those words linger. I don’t know if he’s debating what I said or rolling his eyes.
“There’s no harm in trying—”
“There’s plenty of harm in trying,” he says.
“Harm to the team. They need to know who their coach is. If we battle it out in court, what happens? One day, I’m the coach.
A week later, I’m out. Then a higher court puts me back in.
How’s the team supposed to focus on their goals when the coaches are playing musical chairs? ”
“Luke, please—”
“No. We already made our deal. Alan’s the coach this season.”
“Meaning forever. Your contract runs out this year. Crisham won’t rehire you.”
“I’ll worry about that later.”
I drop my head in my hand. “I don’t get you. What happened to my brother, the ultimate competitor? You get arrested and the first thing you tell me is you want to plead guilty. Now the school boots you on your ass and rather than stand up for yourself, you lie down and take it?”
Luke begs off the call, saying he needs to get some air, go for a run, clear his head. I can’t believe he won’t let me help him. I don’t understand this.
I pick up my phone and call Harp. “Are you still in the building?”
“Yeah, I’m with Vivian. Want me to come back?”
Two minutes later, she returns to my office. “What’s up?”
“I have an assignment for you,” I say. “Trinity Casto. Good, bad, ugly.”
“We’re pretty strapped on Childress,” she says. “My whole team’s on it.”
Right. “Could you fit it in around the Childress stuff?”
She nods. “Sure. For Luke’s case? Client work, not personal?”
“Client work, yes, privileged and confidential,” I say. “Something’s going on here. Luke isn’t being himself. He’s like a puppet. And I’ll bet anything that Trinity’s pulling the strings.”