He wondered if her sleep had been as restless as his.
"Good morning." About to ask her how she'd slept, he was interrupted by the ringing of his cellular phone, which sat on the table. He'd already spoken with Brandon this morning, and with Jackie, who had asked him if he was going to come in to deal with the increasingly furious Deputy Director Crandall.
Yes, he would, but not until he was ready to. Not until he knew what he was going to do with the woman watching him with sleep-heavy eyes from across the table.
He glanced at the caller ID and saw the name G Vincent with a Virginia area code. "Boyd's attorney," he said, nodding in approval. He'd suspected the woman wouldn't be able to resist returning the call Wyatt had placed to her less than a half hour ago. Lawyers were nothing if not predictable, and she was probably strutting her stuff over her big win in appeals court. The chance to throw that win in the face of an FBI agent-so often the enemy in a criminal trial-would probably be irresistible.
Placing his finger over his lips to instruct Lily to remain silent, he flipped the phone open. "Blackstone."
"Hello, Agent Blackstone, this is Claire Vincent. I just arrived in my office and was given a message that you called."
"Yes, I did. Thanks for returning the call." He winked at Lily. "I wasn't sure you would."
The woman on the other end of the line laughed softly.
"Oh, don't be silly. I'm always happy to talk to law enforcement." Her laugh ended abruptly. "Especially when they do me such enormous favors."
He sat straighter in his chair. "Favors?"
"Of course. If not for you, my client Jesse Boyd might still be sitting in his prison cell."
Wyatt slowly rose to his feet, tucking the phone into the crook of his neck. He lifted his coffee mug and walked to the edge of the patio, sipping slowly, waiting for the lawyer to explain.
"You are calling about Jesse, aren't you?"
"I am."
"I'm not surprised. It must be difficult for you. I mean, you must know that your exposure of the shenanigans in the FBI crime lab couldn't have helped my client any more than if you'd gotten a signed confession from another suspect."
He lowered his mug to his side, closing his eyes. This was what he hadn't wanted to hear, but what he'd feared he would discover from Boyd's attorney. The details hadn't been laid out in the article. It had said only that there had been some problems with the original case against the man. Problems involving evidence and, of course, the loss of the witness.
"The fact that the victim's aunt was your employee didn't hurt, either. But the real icing on the cake was you reporting that evidence tampering when you did. I mean, if you'd blown the lid off that a few months later, I might not have had as much legal maneuvering room. As it was, the timing was just close enough for the judge to buy it as a reason to throw out the evidence."
An almost tangible wave of red washed over his vision and a vicious headache began to pound in his brain. Each thud of his pulse ratcheted it higher until the pressure felt likely to blow through his temples.
"Can't imagine how tough it must be for you, since Fletcher worked for you. Thank God she's not alive to know your whistle-blowing helped get the guy accused of killing her nephew off the hook."
The woman's chipper voice assaulted him with every syllable. No, he hadn't been taken completely by surprise. A tiny part of him had worried that his actions might have had something to do with this case.
He had long ago accepted the fact that, by doing what he had done, reporting what he knew, he could be costing the convictions of some pretty horrific criminals. That knowledge had kept him up night after night, racking his brain, trying to find some other way. In the end, there had been no other way. He was an officer of the law surrounded by lawlessness. He'd done what he had to do, fully prepared to accept all consequences.
But not this one.
Jesus, not this one. He did not want to put the phone down, turn around, and admit the truth to Lily.
"Now, is there something I can actually help you with, Agent Blackstone? Or did you simply call out of morbid curiosity?"
Wyatt pulled his thoughts together, focusing only on getting information. Not on past cases, not on old mistakes. Only on now.
"I'm curious," he said, wondering whether she could hear the tightness, the barely controlled anger in his voice, "about how you got involved with the case."
The woman didn't answer.
"I mean, you weren't the original attorney of record. Who brought you into the case at this late date?"
Ms. Vincent sounded a little less amused and a lot more cool when she answered. "I am not at liberty to discuss my clients You know that."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm simply curious. From what I remember, Boyd doesn't exactly come from a wealthy background. He couldn't afford more than a public defender at the original trial."
"I repeat, I'm not at liberty to discuss my clients, nor who's paying their bills. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am due in court this morning. Good-"
"One more thing," he interjected smoothly. "I was wondering, since I haven't seen your name in any local cases, where your practice is located."
A brief hesitation said she was considering whether to respond. The question was a perfectly innocuous one, though Wyatt very much wanted to know the answer. Finally, as if realizing he could get the information if he dug for it, anyway, she admitted, "My firm is located in Williamsburg, Virginia, Agent Blackstone. Now, I really must go. Good-bye."
Brandon lived close to headquarters, so rather than taking the Metro down to Alexandria first thing in the morning, he went to the office first. He had something he needed to retrieve.
As soon as he got there, though, Jackie waylaid him, pulling him into her office before he could even get close to his. "Anspaugh's here again," she explained as she softly closed the door behind him. "And he's been barking your name since yesterday. The minute he sees you, he's going to want to question you."
"Does he have a warrant?" he snapped.
"Get real. You know you can't refuse."
Right. Which meant he better make sure he remained scarce so Anspaugh never got the chance to ask.
"Where's Wyatt?"
"At home, as far as I know," he replied.
"Crandall has called twice and he sounds like he is going to shout his office walls down if Wyatt doesn't show up this morning. He calmed down about yesterday when I forwarded him Wyatt's actual airline itinerary, proving he'd gone up to his place in Maine, and couldn't come in. But that also means he saw the trip was for one day only and he was coming back last night."
Brandon smiled. Forwarding the itinerary as a way to get Crandall off their backs for a day had been his idea. It had, however, as Jackie had just reminded him, bought them only one day. Which wasn't enough.
He and Wyatt had already been on the phone this morning, and they'd both agreed they needed more evidence before they allowed Lily to turn herself in. Evidence in both cases-to show that not only was she not the lily killer, but somebody else was setting her up to take the fall. And that she was in very real danger.
They needed time. They also needed help. Which was why he was about to take one of the biggest gambles of his life.
"Jackie, do you have some sense about what's going on around here?" He stared at her directly, letting her know he was done covering up, skirting around the real story.
"It involves Lily."
"Yes, it does."
Jackie lifted a shaking hand to her throat. "You know what happened to her."
He nodded once. But before he could say another word, the door to her office burst open. Kyle Mulrooney stuck his head in and said in a loud whisper, "Anspaugh heard somebody say you were here, Cole, and he's looking for you. He's in Alec's office right now, but Alec won't be able to stall him for long. Get outta here unless you want to be questioned all day."