Love, Lies & The D.A. (27 page)

I
giggle.

*     *     *

This
is even worse than I thought. Now she has to risk her life working with the
FBI. Someone must really have a sick sense of humor to catapult a woman into my
life who danger follows like a shadow. Despite how bad this looks, even at this
early stage, I can’t pull away.

I care
about her too deeply. As she sleeps in my arms, she seems free from worry and
stress, but I know on some level that the FBI visit had to bother her, or she
wouldn’t have taken a two-and-a-half hour drive over here for her to talk to me
about this.

I take
much comfort in the fact that she did turn to me. It’s a sign that she trusts
me. I am acutely aware of what a big deal this is. I remember the days when she
told me she couldn’t trust me, even if she wanted to. So much has happened since
then. It’s a miracle how Mother Nature intervened and, in one weekend,
completely changed the course of events. Now, she lies fast asleep in my arms,
and somewhere deep inside, I feel that she is the one for me.

*     *     *

After
an early breakfast with Jonathan the next morning, I return to Big Sur. It’s
after 2PM and I hear a horn outside. I guess the FBI decided to grace me with
their presence early. I look through the window, and I’m pleasantly surprised
to instead see a woman approaching the house with an exquisite orchid plant.
Only one person could be responsible for this… the card simply reads:

Thinking
of you.

Johnny

I know
he’s in court, but I send him a message anyway.

JM: You do know
how to make a girl smile. I got your lovely orchid. I can’t wait to see your
handsome face tomorrow. Thank you
J

I am
surprised when my phone beeps with a response.

JK: In court.
Dying to see you too.

JM: Counselor.
Shouldn’t you be paying attention to what the judge or defense attorney is
saying?

JK: We’ll if you’d
stop distracting me with your words, I’d be able to focus on the task at hand.

JM: Stop texting
and go do the state’s work.

JK: Yes boss. The
judge is eying me. Gotta go… xoxox

Agent
Cross and White arrive on cue at three o’clock, all decked out in their HVAC
service uniforms. I welcome them and their tools into the house.

I have
a pot of coffee and some pastries waiting on the kitchen island.

“So
gentlemen, after talking with my legal counsel, I think I have no choice but to
help you.”

“That’s
good news, Ms. McLean. We know this wasn’t an easy decision,” Douglas replies.

“No.
It wasn’t. So where do we go from here? How do I do this and make it out alive?”

“For
now, we play the waiting game. You should know that your phone’s tapped.”

“Okay.
So what do we do now?”

“We
want you to deal with these people only via phone for now. We’re not leaving
you to handle this on your own.”

“Should
I go back home to San Francisco?”

“Not
unless you want to. Under no circumstances should you meet anyone on your own.
We know you live in a pretty secure building, but as of when we leave here, it
will be under surveillance.”

“Two
weeks ago, someone placed a tracking device on my car. I found it while I
stayed in Lake Tahoe, days before someone followed me. The police there were
never able to find them.”

“What
did you do with the device?”

“I
stuck it on a big rig that was heading in Nevada’s direction. A private
investigator found another one on my car days later. He took it away; he was
heading to Sacramento.”

“From
what we’ve seen on your file at the SFPD, there is nothing to suggest at the
moment that you are under surveillance.”

“Yeah,
but that doesn’t mean that some dirty cop with his own agenda conveniently left
it out,” I reply.

“That’s
true,” Phillip agrees.

“Someone
also tried to break into a villa where I stayed, but the alarm went off and
scared them away.”

“Did
you call the cops there?”

“The
alarm company did. But an avalanche knocked out the bridge that came to the
house. The police weren’t able to come. I left before the bridge was repaired
or before I ever saw the police because my lawyer died.”

“If
the bridge was out, how did you get out?”

“The
house was on a lake. My neighbor got a boat to come pick me up and take me to
the other side of the bridge.”

“Anything
else worth telling?”

“You
can contact my lawyer Cooper Hicks. He’s expecting your call. He has all the
information, including the numbers of the private investigators.”

“Okay.
Well, you’re supposed to be getting this call tomorrow. Your job is to get the
perpetrator talking. We need to get clues as to who this person is. We don’t
want them to get suspicious, though.”

“Got
it. But if they’re police, won’t they be able to find out where I am?”

“They
might,” Phillip replies. “This house is being monitored from the house on the
top of the hill.”

“Should
anything happen, we’re moments away. A whole team of agents are at that house
working on this case,” Douglas continues.

“I
didn’t realize my privacy was going to be invaded as well.”

“Well,
we’re doing it for your own protection,” Phillip says sternly.

“Sure,”
I reply sarcastically. “And what exactly do you mean by monitored? Is my house
bugged? Are there hidden cameras?”

“We
have hidden cameras near all the entrances and overlooking the beach should
they try to come in by sea. There are no bugs.”

He
hands me a necklace with an oversized pendant.

“So
this here…” he says, showing me the onyx stone in the center of the pendant. He
presses it, and his cell phone rings. “You should wear it. It’s waterproof. If
for any reason there’s a problem here or you need help, you press that button.
It has a GPS tracker in it so we will know your location.”

“Do I
have to wear this during my private time? I feel like you are following me now.
I have no privacy. That’s not what I signed up for.”

“You
don’t have to, but we suggest you do for your own safety, at least when you’re
leaving the house.”

“You
think that’s why I came all the way out here? If I wanted my every move to be
known, I would have stayed in San Francisco and been followed by reporters all
day long.”

“We’re
doing this to protect you,” Douglas says softly.

“Fine.
I assume you’ll be listening in once they call?”

“Yes,”
Phillip answers. “We would have preferred to be here, but since we have no clue
when the call is coming in, we will have to do it remotely.”

“I
understand what you need me to do. Look for clues of who this person is. Where
they operate. Anything that might be helpful. String them along.”

“That’s
right. Hold onto this tablet as well,” Phillip says, handing me the device.
“Once that call comes through, make sure you have this on so we can communicate
with you remotely.”

“Fine.
Now, I’m having company over this weekend, so please don’t barge in here like a
bunch of lunatics. I know how to reach you all if there is a problem.”

“That’s
helpful. Thanks for letting us know,” Phillip replies, smiling, though I’m not
certain I know why.

“Oh,
and another thing… Since you all have ensured that I have no private life, I’d
appreciate it if I didn’t see all of my private business all over the
tabloids.”

“Ms.
McLean, with all due respect, we don’t report to the tabloids,” Douglas says,
grinning.

“Oh,
don’t be a smart-ass. You know what I mean.”

The
agents smile at me, and I know that they must know that Jonathan and I have
been spending lots of time together. His recusal from my case was almost an
announcement to the world that we were at the very least
friendly
with each other. To top it off, I’ve been driving his vehicle, a fact I’m sure
the FBI are fully aware of.

The
next morning,
I wake up with my stomach in knots. I go
through my usual routine, but I am ridiculously nervous. I suppose that looming
call has me feeling like this. I need to find some way to relax.

Perhaps
I should spend the afternoon fixing dinner. Cook something special. I will need
to head to the store. Unfortunately, the nearest supermarket is in Carmel—half
an hour away. Then again, that might be a good thing. I need to occupy my mind.

As I
drive, I realize I really have no idea what Jonathan’s likes and dislikes are.
I think he prefers red wine to white. I know he enjoys red meat and fish, but I
don’t know if that means he doesn’t have an appreciation for other seafood or
poultry. I guess I can use this weekend to learn about him as a person. I stock
up my cart with things I remember he might enjoy and I head home.

Dinner
is in the oven and the sun is getting ready to take its descent. I know
Jonathan’s often in court till four. It doesn’t look like we’ll be having
dinner at sunset, but I go about fixing things and prepare for his arrival.

I
am in my bathroom and I’m about to step into the shower when my
regular
phone rings. My heart skips a beat. I quickly slip into my robe and look at the
phone. The call is from a private number. This must be it. I head to the great
room, sit at the kitchen island, turn on the tablet, and answer the phone.

“Hello.”

“Jada
McLean?” asks the cold familiar voice.

“Yes.”

“You
should have been expecting this call.”

“I
have.”

“You
have that money ready?”

“
Um
….
no. I’m afraid.”

And
that’s the truth, because I can’t stop shivering.

“Afraid
of what?”

Stay
calm… relax…

“That
the media will find out, and everyone will really believe I’m guilty, or that
the police might find out and file extra charges.”

“You
don’t have to worry about that.”

“How
do I know?” I ask, sounding more composed.

“I
have the power to make these charges disappear.”

“Are
you the prosecutor? How do I know that you’re not some man off the street
trying to get money out of me?”

“Lady,
do you want to go to prison?” he shouts.

“Of
course not. But if you want me to give you this money, you have to give me some
sort of assurance that these charges will go away. What if I give you the money,
and I still end up going to prison?”

“You’re
going to have to trust me.”

“Well,
I can’t do that. And it’s not like I can get that kind of money without making
people suspicious. My banker would ask questions. My accountant would ask
questions. What I’m I supposed to say to them?”

“I’d
be happy to take the money in smaller amounts over a period of time.”

“I don’t
know… all of this makes me nervous. I have to think about this.”

“You
want to think about this? What’s there to fucking think about?”

He’s
getting angry.

“Why
don’t you give me your number? I’ll call you in a few days.”

He
hesitates. I wonder if he’ll take the bait. I don’t want him to get suspicious.

I
continue. “Or, if you like, you can give me your bank account number. If by
Wednesday you see no deposit from me, it means no deal.”

A
message comes in on the tablet—
offer money. Sweeten the deal.

“If I
choose to do this, I might be able to come up with a quarter of a million
dollars by then. After that, we’ll need to make some arrangement for the rest.”

“Who’s
telling you to ask me these questions? Did you talk to your DA boyfriend about this?”

“No!”
I exclaim. “I swear to God, I didn’t. If he knew, he’d immediately call the
police.”

He
goes silent once more.

“Look,
I realize this might be an opportunity for me to get out of this mess. But you
have to realize all the people around me that could get suspicious. I wouldn’t
be so stupid to tell anyone when I know this can help me. I don’t want to go to
prison. This is the best I can do.”

There
is silence, and more silence, and I pray to God he caves.

 “Okay.
I’ll call you on Wednesday for your decision. If you want to move forward, I
will give you the account number for a bank in the Cayman Islands.”