Deadly Aim (20 page)

“Why?” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

“He wanted me to admit I was wrong. He said we should try for a lesser charge and settle with Billy’s family.”

“Maybe you should.” Brandon kept his eyes focused on his plate.

“No way.” She brushed some crumbs from the table. “That would mean losing my job and being sentenced and put on probation. What kind of settlement is that?” She went on to tell him about Randy’s personal situation.

“Can’t you get another union lawyer?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I want one. I thought maybe you could...” Something in his expression stopped her. “What?”

He glanced around the room, still not meeting her eyes. “I can’t. We’re too close. It would be unethical.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you the other night when you offered to help.”

He set his sandwich down and wiped his hands on a napkin. “You’re going to hear about it eventually anyway, so I might as well tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I can’t represent you because it would be a conflict of interest.”

“I don’t see how. It’s not like we’re married or even engaged. We’re friends.”

Angel watched his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. He turned to look out the window. His gaze finally met hers but only briefly. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. Dad informed Carl and me about it this morning. I tried to talk him out of it, but he’s not budging.”

“Talk him out of what? What are you saying?”

He licked his lips. “Our firm is representing Ray Broadman in the civil suit against you.”

“Ray Broadman.” A lump the size of a soccer ball sat in the pit of her stomach. “That’s Billy’s uncle.”

“He’s filing on behalf of Billy’s mother.”

Angel rubbed her arms, hoping the friction of skin against fabric would warm her. She had felt adrift in Joe’s office; now she felt as if she was going down for the third time. One by one she felt the supports slip out from under her.

“I’m sorry.” Brandon reached for her hand.

Angel moved out of his reach, pulling together what little resources she had left. “I’m going up to see my dad.”

He got up and followed her out of the cafeteria. “Angel, wait!”

She swung around when he grabbed her arm. “I don’t think we have anything more to talk about.”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp and left him standing there. Beneath the anger, though, she felt sad. She understood that his father had put him in a no-win situation. That must’ve been what they were arguing about at the restaurant earlier. But the knowledge did little to ease the pain of betrayal.

When she got to the door of her father’s room, she hesitated and took a deep breath before going inside. “Hi, Dad. How’s it going?”

“I’d do better if I could get out of this place,” Frank grumbled.

“You need to stay a few more days. Hearts take time to heal.”

Hearts take time to heal
. Angel wondered if hers ever would.

“I saw the news last night.” Frank scooted himself up in bed. “Those vultures just won’t let it go.”

“The press is always blowing things out of proportion. You know that.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. When he didn’t open them again and his breathing deepened, Angel kissed his cheek then whispered good-bye and left.
Were you there, Dad? Did you shoot at Billy? Did you steal the evidence
? No, she wouldn’t ask. Not now. Maybe never.

When she joined her brothers in the waiting room, she avoided their questioning gazes. “What happened to Brandon?” Peter asked.

“He had to go back to the office.” She dropped into the nearest chair. “Where’s Ma?”

“Tim took her down to the cafeteria.” Paul shook his head. “I don’t think she’s had anything decent to eat since she got here Monday night.”

Angel nodded. “Do you guys know a good lawyer?”

They eyed each other then turned their gazes back to her. “Didn’t the union provide one for you?”

“I fired him.”

“What about Brandon?” Paul asked.

“Brandon is sleeping with the enemy.” Angel went on to explain the situation.

“How could they do that to you?” Peter scowled.

“You can’t really blame Brandon, though,” Paul said, obviously trying to be rational. “He’d have to quit the firm in order to represent you. Besides, he’s not a criminal lawyer.”

“I’m not a criminal!”

“That’s beside the point, and you know it.”

“Okay, okay. I need someone who’ll work cheap.”

Peter chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think we should be using the words
lawyer
and
cheap
in the same sentence.”

“Well, with things going the way they are, I need someone fast.”

“How about Rachael?” Paul pursed his lips.

“Good idea, bro.” Peter patted his brother’s back.

“Who’s Rachael?”

“You don’t know Rachael?” they asked at the same time.

Angel frowned. “Should I?”

“Duh. Rachael Rastovski is the babe renting an office at Tim’s church.”

“She’s more than a babe,” Paul said, rolling his eyes at his brother. “She’s a lawyer, and I’ve heard she’s very good.”

“I haven’t met her,” Angel said, “but then, I haven’t been to church lately. Let me guess. She’s new and working on charity cases.”

“Not new exactly. She was working with some big firm in L.A. Don’t know the specifics—just that she’s starting over. Talk to Tim about her.”

Angel hesitated. Maybe she could check Rachael out. First, though, she wanted to know why someone would leave a cushy job in L.A. to work out of a church in Sunset Cove. “Thanks for the tip.” She sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “I’d better get going.”

“Have dinner with us tonight,” Peter said. “We’re taking Mom out. She needs a diversion.”

“I don’t know.”

“We can do Asian. That Vietnamese place you like.”

Paul glanced up at her. “Come on, Ange. You have to eat.”

“Our treat,” Peter added.

“All right. I’ll meet you there. What time?”

“How’s 6:30?”

“Good.” Angel turned to leave and nearly ran down the hall to the elevator, though she wasn’t sure why. She still had thirty minutes before her appointment with Janet.

Going out the hospital’s revolving front entrance, she spotted the headlines on the
Oregonian
, Oregon’s primary newspaper, announcing that Billy Dean Hartwell’s funeral would be held the next afternoon. She bought the paper and tucked it under her arm.

Angel wanted to attend the funeral and yet she didn’t. She felt an obligation but at the same time worried that her appearance might cause more trouble. She would go, she decided, but she’d disguise her appearance and bring a camera so she’d fit in with the media that would undoubtedly be there.

Angel parked near Janet’s office and spent fifteen minutes walking through the nearby park. Five minutes before her appointment, she went inside the building.

She didn’t have to wait long; Janet met her as she came in and ushered her to her office. “I’m glad you decided to come back.”

“I don’t need psychoanalysis,” Angel said after they were seated. “Just let me come in here and talk to you once or twice a week to satisfy my boss.”

“That’s fine with me.” Janet leaned back in her chair and put her feet on the coffee table. “So talk.”

“About what?”

“Whatever you want. I’m here to listen.”

“Right.” Angel settled herself into the cushioned chair and tipped her head back. Closing her eyes, she waited. The silence built to deafening proportions, and she finally had to break it. “You want to hear about the shooting?”

“If you want to tell me.”

“I don’t really. Besides, you know about it.”

“Not from your perspective.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” So Angel told her what had happened that day. From the call to investigate the robbery at the drugstore to finding Billy Dean and pulling the trigger.

“The papers said you shot him three times. You only mentioned shooting him once.”

Angel opened her eyes. “I only remember shooting once. The guys told me it happens like that sometimes. You get so caught up in an adrenaline rush and can fire off an entire magazine without realizing it. I wish I could remember for sure. I mean, obviously I shot him, but...”

“I may be able to help you remember for sure.” Janet lowered her feet and leaned forward.

“How?”

“Hypnotherapy.”

Angel shook her head. “You’d hypnotize me? I don’t think so.”

Janet smiled. “It’s not what you think. A lot of people freak out about the idea of hypnosis, but it’s a valid tool. I don’t put you under or anything like that. It’s really all about relaxation.”

“I don’t know.”

“No pressure, Angel. Just think about it. Sometimes after a traumatic experience like yours, the memory does odd things. You may remember what happened at any time—or you might not remember at all. Do you still have my card?”

Angel nodded.

“How are those sleeping pills working for you?”

“I haven’t gotten the prescription filled yet. I just haven’t had time. I mean, first there was the break-in, and then my father’s heart attack.”

“I understand that,” Janet said. “But I have a feeling that isn’t what’s kept you from getting the medication. It’s okay to take something, you know. And you can quit acting like everything is fine. We’re old friends, remember? I know you like to stay in control, but you also need your rest.”

“Humph. I’m not sure I know what control is anymore.” Angel’s lips curved in a half smile. “I know. I’m defensive, but I can’t afford to let this get to me. I have to stay on top of things.”

“I understand. But not getting enough sleep will wear you down faster than dealing with this situation. A good night’s sleep will help you cope much better with everything.”

Later in their conversation, Angel brought Janet up-to-date on her dad’s condition and told her about the latest bombshell, being brought up on charges. Janet was easy to talk to, and pretty soon Angel was thinking counseling might actually do some good.

When their time was up, Janet walked her to the door. “I meant what I said, Angel. Call me anytime. And why don’t you come in Friday at 11:00, and we’ll try the hypnosis? Sooner if you want.”

“Thanks, Janet. And thanks for taking me on as a patient. I know it’s unusual to take on a friend as a client, but I just don’t think I could trust anyone else.”

On the way home, Angel struggled with her anger toward Brandon, or more specifically, Brandon’s father. How could he do something like that? It was a slap in the face, and she was furious with Brandon for not standing up to his father. If he really cared about her, wouldn’t he just leave the firm? But maybe Brandon didn’t have the backbone for it. After mulling it over, though, she decided she was more disappointed than angry—at least with Brandon. Michael Lafferty was another story.

When she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, she was surprised to find the place clear of reporters. She eased into her regular spot and hurried up the stairs.

Angel paused at the landing and cautiously slipped her key into the lock. She held her breath. Would the intruders be back? At Callen’s insistence, she had gotten the locks changed after they’d cleaned the place up, but she doubted if it would make a difference. If the vandals wanted to get in, they could. Angel hauled in a deep breath as she let the door swing open. She doubted coming home would ever be the simple act it had once been.

She stepped inside. Her breath caught. Someone had been there, only this time was far different from the last.

Whoever it was had left the place immaculate. Someone had cleared out all the garbage. In place of the old sofa and chair were a matching set with a soft floral print. Her slashed mattress had
been replaced, and the bed made with a new comforter set in her favorite pastel colors. Though she hadn’t checked the cupboards or the linen closet, she had a feeling nearly everything she’d lost had been replaced.

Tears gathered in her eyes at the unexpected act of kindness. She didn’t even know who to thank but suspected Tim and Susan had instigated the project. She opened the cupboards and shook her head. Whoever her benefactor was had stocked her kitchen with everything that had been destroyed, and more. In one cupboard she found a new set of pottery mugs, a set of dishes for six, and glasses in all shapes and sizes. Canned goods, flour and sugar, spices, and all kinds of stuff kitchens were supposed to be stocked with filled the pantry. If her mother hadn’t been spending most of her time at the hospital with her father, Angel would’ve suspected her of masterminding the cleanup effort.

After pulling down one of the mugs, Angel heated water in the microwave and fixed some herbal tea. She carried the mug over to the new stereo. Propped up against it were three CDs,
Celtic Romance, Classics
, and
Quietude
. Angel put them in the CD player, thinking she’d get an idea of who to thank by listening to their choice of music. It wasn’t the type of music she usually listened to, but it soothed her, and by the time the changer had gone through one of the disks, she had fallen asleep on her new sofa.