Chapter 26
"Ready?" Isaac asks when they step off the elevator and start down the hallway.
Leire glances at him sideways and nods, though she can't hide her nerves, and the tight expression on her face gives her away. He stops at a front desk, gives Leire's name — she looks like she's somewhere else entirely — and the receptionist types it into the computer.
"Ms. Solano is already expecting you. I'll take you back."
"That won't be necessary," Isaac says pleasantly. "If you just tell me the door."
The receptionist hesitates, then nods and gestures toward the other hallway.
"Second door on the left."
"Thank you."
Isaac puts a hand on Leire's back and nudges her forward, but she stops just before they reach the attorney's office.
"If you need more time to think it over, I can tell her we need to reschedule — it's fine if this is too much right now. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but it's the right thing to do, Leire."
"I know, and I'm fine. Just a little nervous."
"Okay. So we go in?"
She nods, and Isaac knocks twice and cracks the door open.
Patricia Solano is tall and slender, with brown hair like Leire's and sharp features. She's forty-five, with a long track record fighting harassment cases on behalf of public figures.
"It's a pleasure, Miss Cobos," she says, extending a firm hand.
"Just Leire," she replies, noticing how pale the woman's skin is.
"Of course — just Leire." The attorney turns to the agent and shakes his hand. "Good to see you again, Mr. Melero. Shall we sit?"
The three of them settle around a round table in the corner of the spacious office, and the attorney opens her laptop and puts on her reading glasses.
"So, Mr. Melero has already filled me in, Leire, which means we can skip the part where you have to walk me through the uncomfortable details. We'll work from what I know. Does that work for you, or is there something you'd like to add?"
"That works," Leire says. She's wearing a polo shirt and jeans, and she undoes the top button because she suddenly can't breathe.
"Based on what I've been told," Patricia begins, glancing briefly at Isaac and then back at her, "the conduct could be attributed to at least three offenses.
The first and most straightforward is unauthorized recording and disclosure of private information under Article 197 of the Penal Code.
Installing recording devices in a private space without consent is a crime, regardless of whether the images were ever distributed.
" Patricia pushes her glasses up with one finger, and Leire decides the woman is elegant and refined without even trying.
"The second is distribution of intimate images without consent, covered under Section 197.
7 — in this case it would be attempted, since the journalist never actually published them.
And the third, depending on how we frame the facts, could be coercion, provided we can establish that the intent was to pressure you into changing your behavior. "
At some point Leire has pressed her hands flat against the table, and she's staring at her fingers as she takes it all in.
"Are you all right?" the attorney asks. "Can I get you some water?"
Leire looks up and blinks.
"No, I'm sorry. I'm fine. Is all of that enough to file a report?"
"Absolutely, but you need to understand how this works in practice." The woman opens a notepad and jots down a word, underlines it.
It's a habit of hers — writing out the key points on a sheet she later hands to her client, a kind of mental map so nothing gets lost.
"Once a complaint is filed, the investigation can take anywhere from one to three years.
It's not a fast process." Leire isn't surprised; she's always known how slowly justice moves in Spain.
"What does happen fairly quickly is the evidence preservation order, which we'll request from day one — making sure the devices and the images are placed under court custody.
That matters because it takes away his ability to use them. "
"What if he's already deleted everything? I'm sure he has," Leire says.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Data can almost always be recovered, but if nothing could be pulled from his phone — in the hypothetical case that he's gotten rid of it — we still have the journalist's.
" Patricia searches for her name on the laptop.
"Candela Valle. Though that does complicate things, because we'd have to prove that the number the images were sent from was your father's.
Either way, we'll work through it as we go. "
"Okay," Leire says. She feels like a six-year-old being walked through a lesson.
"I also need to know whether the other party — Kate Brogan — intends to file as well, or whether you'll be doing this on your own."
"She's filing too," the tennis player offers, and the attorney notes it down. "But she's not in the country right now. She won't be back for a couple of weeks."
"That's not a problem. We'll prepare her portion of the complaint and have everything ready for her to sign when she gets back.
It's not something we can submit by mail — she'll need to ratify it in person at the courthouse — but we can do all the groundwork now.
" Patricia closes the laptop and scribbles something else in the notepad.
"My recommendation is that we file the complaints jointly.
It carries more weight and simplifies the investigation, but that's your call. "
"We've already talked about it. We're doing it together," Leire says.
"Good." Patricia adds a line. "One more thing: at some point in this process, you'll both need to speak about your relationship — about the circumstances under which the recordings were made. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes. That's not an issue," she answers without hesitation.
"Perfect. Then I'll get everything ready, and when Brogan is back, you contact me and we'll coordinate the filing. Any questions?"
Leire takes a few seconds to think, but the woman has explained everything clearly.
"No. All good."
Patricia stands and walks them to the door.
"We'll be in touch, Leire."
Five minutes later, Isaac and she step outside and stop on the sidewalk. Leire looks up at the sky and breathes in deeply as the late-afternoon sun warms her cheeks.
"You okay?" Isaac asks.
She nods, gives him a small smile, and they say goodbye when she turns down his offer to drive her home. She's decided she wants to walk and clear her head, and when she gets tired she'll grab a cab back.
She walks with her phone in her hand because yesterday, when she talked to Kate — as she does every afternoon — they'd agreed that the Australian would call as soon as she got out of physical therapy to hear how things went.
When her phone starts ringing, Leire is passing by a park and decides to sit on an empty bench to take the call.
"Hey, baby," she says softly as she settles in.
"Hey. I'm guessing you're out already — how'd it go?" Kate asks, her voice gentle.
"Good. I think Isaac made the right call. The attorney seems really sharp. She said filing both complaints together carries more weight, so she'll have everything ready and we'll sign it when you're back."
"That works. How are you doing? I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."
Leire smiles to herself, but it's a bitter smile, because no matter how much they've talked about it, she can't stop thinking about all the times Kate needed her and she wasn't there — and it's a guilt she knows she'll carry for a long time.
"I'm okay. Isaac came with me. He's been really great."
"I'm glad, sweetheart. I miss you."
"I miss you too. How's your back?"
"Good. Thomas switched up some of my exercises — we're adjusting as we go. Once we're settled, I'll need to find someone local, but he said not to worry, that he'll make sure to explain my situation thoroughly to whoever takes over."
"It'll be fine, Kate. I can ask Isaac to tap his contacts and put together a list of the best people available. If we need to, we could spend some time in Madrid before we move to the island — at least until you don't need as many sessions."
Kate hadn't thought of that, but Leire is right: it'll be much easier to find specialists in the city than in a small, out-of-the-way town like hers.
"Good idea."
Leire smiles.
"How's your family? They must hate me now that they know the whole story."
"They're fine. They might hate you a little," Kate teases, trying to lighten the weight she hears in her girl's voice. "Especially my brother Conor — but they'll come around once they meet you. Don't worry."
Leire's stomach knots, but she nods, ready to face whatever comes.
"Leire…" Kate whispers. "Come on, talk to me. You seem far away, and you don't have to be strong for me."
Her throat closes for a second. Then she swallows and manages a small smile.
"I feel strange after all of this. Like I keep doing things I put off for too long, and now I don't know what to do with myself — I'm not sure how to explain it better than that," she admits.
"You explained it just fine, sweetheart. It's a lot. So many changes at once, and wrapping your head around reporting your own father — that's not easy."
"No. But I'm committed to it and I don't regret it. If he did this to me, what could he do to someone he doesn't even care about?"
"Exactly."
"I really want to see you," she murmurs suddenly, and Kate, sitting in her parked car, feels her stomach flutter with longing.
"I want to see you too, but it's two weeks. They'll go fast."
"I know. Listen, there's something I wanted to run by you."
"Go ahead."
"What would you think if I gave Candela Valle an exclusive interview?"
"For what?" Kate doesn't follow.
"To talk about me — and about us. I want to tell the whole story from the beginning," Leire explains, standing and resuming her walk.
"Why?"
"I need you to tell me first whether it would bother you if I did."
"As long as you don't get into the details of what we got up to in your room, I don't mind," the redhead says, trying to ease the tension she can feel in her girl's voice.
Leire lets out a small laugh.
"You know I wouldn't. But the rest of it — would you be comfortable with that?"
"I don't have a problem with it, sweetheart. But I need to understand why you want to do this. You've always been so private about these things, Leire. And if you're doing it for me—"
"I want to do it for me, Kate. I need to. But I won't do anything if it makes you uncomfortable."
"Then go for it," the Australian says.
"Thank you. I love you," Leire says before hanging up.
She keeps walking for another hour before heading toward a cab stand, using the time to turn over what Kate said — that so much has changed in her life all at once — and she's right.
Everything came at the same time, but she doesn't regret a single decision she's made, because ever since she went public about being in love with Kate, she goes to bed every night without that flash of guilt lodged in her chest that used to suffocate her every day.
She feels free, and happy, and all she wants is for the Australian to come back so she can show her, every single day, that she was right to give her a chance.