Reasonable Doubt (18 page)

Within a few moments, she slipped into a rhythm and let her rising endorphins take over. While the rush did nothing to cool her feelings, it did give her a sense of clarity, and she used the time on the path to review everything she knew so far. After ticking through the events of the week, Sarah discovered a couple of things that bothered her. She’d spent every evening this week going through the files that the agents from HSI had hauled off from her office on Monday. No one knew she had them on her home computer, and she hadn’t felt the need to share that little tidbit, especially since she’d seen nothing truly remarkable other than what she’d already flagged. The connection between Amir Khan’s charity and Saheed Jafari’s foundation was significant, and the overseas bank account was a red flag, but none of what she’d seen definitively pointed to terrorism, and she hadn’t seen anything that pointed to Ellery.

Going after lawyers was a big deal and the justice department had a reputation of treading softly in this area. Although Ellery hadn’t been detained, the fact that her home and former office were searched and her accounts frozen meant someone in one of the agencies working this case had solid evidence against her. Judging by how fast they moved against her, she found it hard to believe this evidence had popped up just this week.

Two miles in now, she ached with the delicious slow burn of her muscles pulsing through the run. She kept running and used the rhythm to give her clarity. She examined every aspect of last Monday. She’d come to the office with donuts. She’d reviewed files with Liz. She’d called Ellery. They’d met for coffee. She’d gotten a phone call to return to the office. Upon her return, she’d found Liz with Mason and they’d been going through her desk. She’d given them the paper files and Liz had admitted she’d gone to Mason with her concerns about the charities. She hadn’t thought a lot about it at the time, but she’d been slightly ticked off at Liz since she’d asked her to wait so she could run down the facts before she put everyone on alert. Liz had agreed on her strategy, so what had happened that day that had changed Liz’s mind? And why hadn’t she come to her to discuss it first?

The unanswered questions jogged her out of her rhythm and she looked up at the bright blue sky and the still rising sun. It was going to be a beautiful spring day. The kind meant for patios and beer and grilling. When she’d taken this job, she’d thought weekends like these would be hers for doing all of those things, but here she was, whirring through the facts of a case that was determined to elude her. The faster she got some answers, the faster she could resume her new life. She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. Plenty of time to go home, shower, change, and show up ready to take a certain woman to brunch and see if she could get some answers.

Ellery parked Leo’s car in a metered space on McKinney Avenue. Before she stepped out, she pulled up the hood of her dark blue sweatshirt. Between it and her Ray-Bans, there was little chance she’d be recognized. She didn’t care so much about being spotted as a suspect in the case—last night had already placed her front and center in the public eye. Her desire to be incognito today had more to do with what she had planned for this little outing.

The distance from the car to her old firm was about a quarter mile and the weather was perfect for a Saturday morning walk. Any other Saturday, she might have been in this part of town for pleasure, enjoying brunch at one of the many restaurants here in Uptown or browsing the shops. As it was, she blended in with the hipsters strolling the streets even if her plans had nothing to do with weekend leisure.

The Victorian house where she’d spent her entire former career was on a side street sandwiched between a real estate office and a print shop. She’d always loved the character of the place, despite the attendant troubles of maintaining an older building. The house had so much more charm than the many sterile skyscrapers further south, and clients had a much easier time navigating their way to appointments since it was located outside the crowded downtown area. The best thing about this place right now was that her parents had maintained ownership of the building, even after she’d left the firm.

The arrangement had been a sore spot for Meg who had offered higher than market value to purchase the building along with the firm’s book of business, but Gordon had resisted selling. The building had been in the family for generations and, while he would have had no problem passing ownership to his daughter, he didn’t want the house to leave the family. Meg hadn’t wanted to move, so she leased it from the Durants. Before she’d put him in a cab that morning, Ellery had insisted he get her a copy of the key from the local company that managed the property in his absence, and now she stood at the back door to the building ready to unlock the door.

There weren’t any cars out front or in the small allotment of spaces out back, so she was reasonably certain no one was inside. She turned the key slowly and gently pushed the door open, stepping quickly inside and punching in the code for the alarm. She walked past the kitchen, coveting a cup of coffee, but she needed to get in and out before anyone discovered her here.

The flash drive Meg had given her contained the search warrant affidavit and she’d spent the night reading the thirty-page document. A lot of it was fluff, ramblings about how the lead HSI agent had expertise in these matters and, based on his expertise, he expected to find evidence of these crimes in the following places and in the following formats, thereby justifying the warrant. The boilerplate language was followed by a series of specific allegations about Welcome Home International and a sister foundation, Global Enterprise Alliance. She recognized the name of the GEA founder. She didn’t think the firm had ever had any dealings with him, but she couldn’t be certain and that was one of the reasons why she was here this morning. She could’ve called Meg and asked her the questions that had popped up since last night, but she hadn’t wanted to use the phone to ask anything about the case. More importantly, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. The fact that Meg had neglected to include on the drive the forms that had been drafted by her father for WHI, gave her pause. Why would she go to all the trouble to meet her late at night with the search warrant affidavit and tell her about the other forms, but not bring them with her?

She owned the fact she might be overly suspicious, but at this point she had nothing to lose by being cautious, although coming here was the opposite of caution. If Meg or one of her associates showed up at the office right now, she’d make up some lie about checking on the property, but Meg would know better, so she’d have to work fast if she wanted to avoid detection.

She headed straight for Meg’s office. When she’d moved out, Meg had taken over the space she’d inherited when her father moved to Chicago. The large office occupied two thirds of the top floor of the building. When she’d had this space, she decorated it with handmade pieces of furniture she’d created in her spare time, enjoying the juxtaposition of her hobby and her profession in the same environment. Meg, in contrast, had populated the space with more modern touches, glass and chrome, which gave the place a lighter, less substantial feel. Now, it looked more like an advertising agency than a law firm, but the office still had two perfect features: a second, private stairwell that she could use to escape when a particularly trying client was waiting downstairs and an amazing balcony that overlooked the quiet street below. Her father used to invite everyone in the office out to the balcony for drinks after a particularly good win in court. She’d continued the tradition and even added a grill.

She resisted the urge to walk outside, sink into one of the cushioned chairs on the deck and enjoy the beautiful spring day. There was no time to indulge in memories, especially since not all of them were good. Instead she sat behind Meg’s desk and moved the mouse, happy to see the large monitor on her desk spring to life. The box on the screen asked for a password and she took a shot, hoping Meg’s habits hadn’t changed.

Within seconds, she was in. She looked around the screen for something that would give her access to the cloud where the firm’s documents were being backed up to, and her eyes landed on the Dropbox icon. She put in Meg’s e-mail address as the user name and drummed her fingers on the desk as she considered whether Meg would be so careless as to use the same password for these files as she used everywhere else. She held her breath while she typed in the word 1Litigator and waited while the spinning beach ball on the screen did its thing. One, two, three seconds passed and the program opened to an array of folders, all neatly labeled with the names of the firm’s clients.

Ellery scanned the files and located everyone who had even the slightest connection to Amir Khan, but she didn’t find anything she didn’t already know. His son Naveed’s case was here along with minor infractions she’d handled for his older children and his businesses. She didn’t see a file folder for Sadeem Jafari, the founder of GEA, but she typed his name into the search box anyway. Within seconds, several files appeared and she clicked on the first one, labeled Certificate of Formation. She’d never seen the particular document before, but recognized it as one a new business filed with the state upon incorporating. She scanned the entire document which listed Jafari as the President of GEA, curious why Meg hadn’t mentioned that she’d represented this individual who was named in a search warrant for an investigation into her.

Nothing about the filing itself raised any red flags, but she copied the document onto the flash drive she’d brought along. Next she searched for the documents her father had supposedly created for Amir. She found several versions, but all of them appeared to be drafts. None of them were signed and the space for the person appointed to hold the power of attorney for WHI was blank.

Maybe her father had told the truth and he’d merely given hypothetical advice to Amir and Amir had chosen on his own to put her name down to give legitimacy to his enterprise. Or maybe her father had given him tacit permission to do so. She knew he had a habit of not wanting to put some of his shady advice in writing. She could see him handing Amir a flash drive with the draft document on it and telling him exactly what to do to give the organization legitimacy.

But none of these speculations gave her any real insight into why the feds were targeting Amir and, by association, her as suspects in the bombing. The search warrant didn’t even mention the bombing directly, but it talked about aid from the specified charities going to fund terrorist organizations and how some of those organizations had increasingly been recruiting American citizens to take part in terrorist activities both here and abroad. It had even mentioned the recent arrests of American citizens traveling to Syria to enroll at terrorist training camps. The agents who’d searched her house had as good as told her father they suspected she was involved in the bombing, but the allegations in the search warrant affidavit weren’t enough to implicate her directly. Since she knew the evidence to tie her to the crime didn’t exist, she would have to prove a negative if she was going to clear her name, but she wasn’t going to prove anything sitting here. She copied the draft documents onto her drive with the rest of the files and signed off Meg’s computer. The screen had just faded to black when she heard a door open downstairs.

“Shit,” she whispered and looked around for a place to hide. Meg’s office was a big open space and she’d be spotted in an instant if someone climbed the stairs. She pocketed her flash drive and walked toward the partially open door, careful to step softly on the wood floor and avoid the boards she knew would squeak. She saw a shadow pass through the hall below, but she couldn’t tell who it was before the person slipped into the supply room. She considered her options. She could walk down the back stairwell, but without knowing exactly where the person downstairs was, she might be discovered. She could walk down the main stairs and bluff through some story about how she’d just come by to check on an issue the property manager had reported, or she could find a way to sneak out. The outside balcony was an option, but it was a steep drop from the railing to the ground below and she was likely to attract attention from someone passing by if she tumbled into the front lawn.

While she ran through her options, she heard a voice and she strained to listen. She recognized the male voice as that of one of the associates that Meg had hired just before she’d quit the practice, Karl Lundberg. Young and ambitious, it was no wonder he was here working on the weekend. She only heard one voice and decided he must be talking to someone on the phone.

“Are you sure you set it?” he said. “I just got here and it wasn’t on…No, nothing looks out of place. Do you think the agents came back? I know they aren’t supposed to come in without letting us know, but do you really think they’re above coming in on their own? Maybe I should call the cops.”

Ellery waited through the long pause and then heard him say. “Okay, but stay on the line while I check around.”

She glanced over the railing and saw him head to the first of three downstairs offices with the phone still to his ear, apparently deciding to have a look around before involving the police. This was her chance to get away. She watched him walk from room to room, but the moment she heard him start up the main stairway, she slipped through the door to the back stairs. Thankful for her soft soled running shoes, she took the steps two at a time until she reached the first floor. She leaned against the door to the kitchen, but she didn’t hear anything on the other side. Ready to risk it, she gently pushed open the door and looked around the room. Karl was nowhere in sight, but she could hear his voice and it sounded like he was still upstairs. Praying she hadn’t left anything out of place, she tiptoed her way out the back door, shutting it carefully behind her before speed-walking back out onto the street, in the opposite direction of the house.

Once she was several blocks away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Funny how she could get so worked up about visiting a place that had been her second home for so many years. Her feelings were mixed. Being back in the office was disconcerting, but she’d experienced melancholy as well, and she had to admit she missed some aspects of her former life. Her hand-crafted furniture made people happy, but it didn’t change lives. She’d represented so many people whose lives and liberty hinged on her ability to do her job. By sheer advocacy, she’d been able to help them get back on track—from the falsely accused to the ones who’d strayed and just needed a second chance to find their way. Overall, the work she’d done had been fulfilling, but the toll it took on her day in and day out had been consuming.