Cover-up (39 page)

Authors: Michele Martinez

BOOK: Cover-up

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“Sure, of course, we all know that, and something needs to be done to relieve the pressure on you,” Mark said. He pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket and smoothed it open. “I took the liberty of ordering a statement of your accrued leave. Do you realize you have five use-or-lose days? Add weekends on both ends and you could get away for nine. I would strongly urge you to take a vacation before making any big decisions about your future. We’ll cover for you here.”

“I really appreciate the concern, but—”

“We think very highly of you, Melanie,” Mark interrupted. “I personally think very highly of you. Bernadette has never backed you the way she should. She doesn’t watch out for her subordinates. She’d rather have people under her thumb than create potential rivals by helping them succeed. And I can promise you Bernadette won’t feel any more generous toward you once she learns Shekeya Jenkins is getting promoted and that you were one of three prosecutors who recommended her.”

“That’s great news. Shekeya will make a fine paralegal,” Melanie said.

“Great news for Shekeya, not for Bernadette. But don’t you worry about a thing. I’m in your corner from now on. I’ll protect you. I’ll also make things happen for you. You have my word.”

“That goes double for me,” Susan said. “I told you how I felt last week. This ain’t no song and dance, Mel. Mark and I are behind you in a big way, and we count for a lot in this office. Stick around, fight the good fight with us. We’ll accomplish great things.”

“So what do you say?” Mark asked.

Melanie looked into their faces and saw people she could trust. They were not without their complications, these two, but they were honest and committed, and genuine public servants. They were colleagues to spend a career with.

“I’m grateful. More than that, I’m touched. And I promise to give your proposal the serious consideration it deserves.”

D
an drove Melanie
to Peter Terrozzi’s funeral. When she cried, he put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, grateful for the comfort of his strong presence. It was Dan’s second funeral in two days, since he’d attended Seamus Fields’s the day before. Melanie appreciated his coming, especially because he hadn’t known Terrozzi.

Afterward, Dan asked if she was hungry. For the first time in days, she had an appetite, and he took her to a romantic little Italian place in Brooklyn with tablecloths and candles. They ordered a bottle of Chianti and talked about work for a while. After the second glass of wine, Dan took Melanie’s hand.

“You and me have some other things to talk about,” he said, holding her gaze with those baby blues.

“I know,” she said, sighing. “We should talk.”

Dan laughed. “Here I am, the strong and silent type begging to talk, and Miss Bare Your Soul here acts like I’m asking her to get a tooth drilled.”

“It’s just, we were having such a nice dinner.”

“And you’re worried this will ruin it? What could we have to say that would be so bad?” Dan asked.

“A lot of things. What’s going on with you and Diane? Why have you never introduced me to your parents? What’s in our future? All those questions seem hard to me. But sitting with you in this restaurant, looking at your face, hearing your voice, that feels good.”

“Live for the moment,” he said.

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Normally, I’d be all for that. But I almost lost you the other day. Standing outside LaserMania when the SWAT guys went in, when I couldn’t find you? It hit me, I’m dependent on you. Couldn’t get along without you in my life. I’m a guy who hates to be dependent on anything, but here I am dependent on Melanie Vargas.”

“You make it sound like some disease.”

“It’s not a disease,” Dan said. “It’s love. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Looking back on it, the fight we had was bound to happen,” Dan said. “People hit those bumps in the road when they start getting serious, sweetheart. You freaked out. I freaked out. Totally normal.”

“I was worried that you still had feelings for Diane,” Melanie said.

“You were right to be upset. Not because I have feelings for her, but because the way I behaved was wrong. Having dinner with Diane meant nothing, swear to God, but I should never have done it without talking to you first. Not with your history. I’ve been cheated on, and I’ve been left. I should have known better, and I apologize.”

“Thank you,” Melanie said, her eyes misting up for a second. She couldn’t have asked for a sweeter apology. “But—I have to ask. You
don’t
still have feelings for her, do you?”

“I won’t lie. Diane looms large in my past. But what do I actually feel for her now? Nostalgia, maybe. Regret. Anger. Any lust? No, I can
honestly say I’m over her for good. Love? Never. Love is only for you.” He squeezed her fingers.

“But then, why didn’t you tell me? I want to understand, so I can feel confident that it won’t happen again.”

“Let me explain something. This relationship we’ve got, it’s new for me. I’m still learning. The example my parents set growing up wasn’t something you’d want to imitate. My old man worked himself bitter. He’d come home late and retreat to the den with his bottle. As for my mother, after P.J. died—he was her favorite—she didn’t have any use for the rest of us. She spent all her time in church. I never saw them talk, let alone show any affection for each other. That’s what I knew when I married Diane. And Diane—she was a cop’s daughter. I could disappear for days at a time working a case, and she’d never ask where I was. If she got pissed about how much I was gone, she’d go sleep with some other guy instead of yelling at me. I’m not saying that’s good, but it’s what I was used to. I’ve never been much for talking, or for having a woman looking over my shoulder, and that’s why I got upset when you questioned me about Diane. I thought, hey, this chick is fencing me in. I have my pride. But that lasted about as long as it took to realize I’d hurt you. Then I felt like shit, and all I wanted was for us to make up. You’ve changed me, see, and I think I could change more. I think I could even get good at talking. Anyway, I have no choice.”

“Why not?”

“You know me. I’m a homebody at heart. I imagine being married. Having kids, taking care of the yard. Sharing the couch and watching a little TV on a Saturday night. That what I want. Now that I’ve been with you, I’m ruined for anybody else. You’re it. So I guess I’m gonna have to keep on talking.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Melanie asked.

He grinned. “Strange, but I am. I’m actually having fun right now.”

“Me, too,” Melanie said.

“Satisfied?” Dan asked.

“Yes. This was good, and I feel like we’re done for now. I don’t need to know what happens in the end.”

“Oh, I can tell you how it ends,” Dan said. “You really want to know?”

Melanie took a sip of wine. “Nah. Too serious for a Friday night. I’m on a campaign to lighten up and relax.”

“How’s this for now? You and me sitting by a pool, sipping piña coladas.”

“Mmm, sounds good. You know, Mark Sonschein told me to take a vacation.”

“And he’s the big boss. Count me in,” Dan said.

“There’s only one problem. I can’t leave Maya for that long.”

“Who said anything about leaving her? You know where I’ve always wanted to go my whole life, but never had the chance?”

“Where?” Melanie asked.

“Disney. What do you say we take cutie, hit the Magic Kingdom in the morning. Then do the pool and the drinks with umbrellas in ’em in the afternoon.”

“That would be great. Sounds expensive, though.”

“What the hell, sweetheart. I’ve got a Visa card, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Acknowledgments

I have the amazing good fortune to work with three of the best women in publishing. My agent, Meg Ruley, my editor, Carolyn Marino, and my publicist, Dee Dee DeBartlo, not only contributed hugely to this book, but they make every day of this job fun. I am also grateful to all of the other wonderful people at the Jane Rotrosen Agency (especially Don Cleary, Peggy Gordijn, and Christina Hogrebe) and at HarperCollins (especially Lisa Gallagher, Michael Morrison, Lynn Grady, Liate Stehlik, Jennifer Civiletto, and Wendy Lee) who do so much for me.

I’m lucky to be able to call upon colleagues from my law enforcement days when memory fails or when I need to catch up with changing times. I am indebted to Eric Friedberg, former chief of narcotics in the EDNY U.S. Attorney’s Office, now one of the nation’s leading experts on computer crimes; Christopher Falkenberg of Insite Security, formerly a special agent with the U.S. Secret Service; and Special Agent John Kleczkowski of DEA, who’s still fighting the good fight. They gave generously of their time and knowledge; any errors or exaggerations are mine alone.

Many thanks to Micah Fink for reading and commenting on an early draft of this book. His insightful comments improved it greatly.

I am grateful to Dean Larry Kramer and the terrific staff at the Stanford Law School Alumni Office for their extraordinary support. Susan Charlton is a happy and successful lawyer in large part because of the three joyous years she spent in Palo Alto.

Love and gratitude to Mom/M and Dad/B for giving me shelter and sustenance when I needed to disappear and write. And of course none of this would be possible without the love and support of my three great guys–my husband, Jeffrey, and my sons, Jack and Will–who have endless patience and enthusiasm for my writing career.

About the Author

A graduate of Harvard University and Stanford Law School, M
ICHELE
M
ARTINEZ
worked at a prestigious Manhattan law firm before spending eight years fighting crime as a federal prosecutor in New York City.

www.michelemartinez.com

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author?s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

COVER-UP
. Copyright © 2007 by Michele Rebecca Martinez Campbell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © FEB 2007 ISBN: 9780061863905

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