Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Reading Sara’s uneasy expression, Conrad shut the door behind Guff. “Let me guess what this is about.”

“I know it’s awkward, but we really have to talk about it.”

“Sara, you don’t have to say anything. I know how you feel about Jared. He’s your husband.”

“It’s not just that he’s my husband. He’s-”

“He’s the man you love,” Conrad interrupted.

“No,” Sara said. “He’s more. Much more.”

Conrad sat down on the sofa. “I’m sorry, Sara. I never planned for that to happen.”

“You don’t have to tell me. When you leaned in, I didn’t exactly run away.”

Leaning his elbows on his knees, Conrad kept his head down. “Damn,” he muttered.

“Please don’t beat yourself up.”

“It wasn’t right – I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Conrad, every friendship has a few awkward moments. This one’s ours. And regardless of how much we apologize, I think the only way to get past it is to let it go.”

“That easy, huh?”

Sara looked away. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Watching her reaction, Conrad knew there was no other choice. “I swear to you, I never-”

“No explanations necessary,” she said, putting on her strongest face. “We’ll live.”

“I’m sure we will. But I truly am sorry, Sara. I read you the wrong way and I won’t let it happen again.”

“Deal,” Sara said with a smile. She extended a handshake. “Onward and upward?”

Conrad shook her hand. “Sure can’t get any lower.”

“Are you ready for Thursday?” Rafferty asked when Jared answered the phone.

“I’m trying,” Jared said. “I’m just having a hard time getting organized.”

“You’ve been getting organized for weeks. What else do you have to do?”

“I have to finish my opening statements, I have to finish my direct examinations, I have to finish my cross-examinations, I have to think about jury selection, I have to decide what kind of juror is most likely to see Kozlow as sympathetic. All in the next three days. It’s overwhelming.”

“I don’t care. Figure it out. Any other news from your wife?”

“Just that I’m back in the house. I told her I didn’t like sleeping at Pop’s, and after that disaster with Conrad, she felt too guilty to keep me out. Otherwise, there’s not much to report.”

“Are you sure?”

Jared didn’t even pause at the comment. “Absolutely,” he said. “And according to the notes in her briefcase, she’s not calling Patty Harrison as a witness unless she needs her.”

“Believe me, even if she calls her, Ms. Harrison isn’t the same witness she used to be.”

“Please do me a favor and stay away from her until we know what Sara’s going to do. I don’t want to have to add witness intimidation to the list of Kozlow’s crimes.”

“Don’t worry. We have that side under control.”

“I know you do,” Jared said deferentially. “Now let me try and get some work done. I’ll speak to you later.” As Jared put down the receiver, he looked up at Kathleen, who had been listening to the entire conversation.

“Do you think he knows?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Jared said. “He’s getting antsy, but I still think he’s too nervous to suspect anything. I just hope Sara gets some answers before the trial.”

At quarter past eight that evening, Jared arrived at home, slamming the door as he stepped inside. “Sara!” he barked the moment he saw her standing in the kitchen. “When the hell are you planning to hand in a witness list?”

“Whenever I’m ready,” Sara shot back as she walked toward the bedroom. “And I’m not ready yet.”

“Don’t walk away from me,” Jared shouted, following her. “You’re turning this into a trial by ambush.”

“Call it what you want, but I have until opening statements to finish my discovery work.”

“Are you nuts? Nobody takes that long. Common courtesy says you should-”

“Common courtesy can kiss my ass. Those’re the rules, and I plan to take full advantage of them. Now if you want to move back in, you better make yourself comfortable on the couch. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone.” With a quick shove, Sara slammed the door in Jared’s face.

A moment later, Jared carefully opened the door and tiptoed into the bedroom. Sara was already sitting in front of their computer, at the desk in the corner of the room, hunting and pecking at the keyboard. As he approached her, he read the words on the computer screen: “How was your day, dear?” Leaning over, he kissed the back of Sara’s neck and took over the keyboard.

“It was fine,” he typed back. “Spoke to Rafferty. I think it went okay. I don’t think he suspects anything. He’s too nervous.” He let Sara use the keyboard again. As she laboriously typed, Jared pulled up a chair, so they were both seated in front of the computer screen.

“Why do this?” Sara typed. “Conrad says we can have this entire place searched for bugs. They’ll be in and out in two hours, and then we can speak as freely as we want.”

With a quick flourish at the keyboard, Jared wrote back, “No way. If we have this place searched, Rafferty will know something’s up. I say we play it safe until the trial.”

Typing in her one-finger-at-a-time mode, Sara wrote, “But my typing sucks.”

Jared laughed to himself. This was what he missed. He put his hand on the back of Sara’s head and pulled her toward him. Ever so slightly, he kissed the side of her forehead. Then her cheek. Then her earlobe. With his lips brushing against her ear, he whispered, “I really do love you.” As he worked his way down the side of her neck, he slowly undid the top buttons of her blouse.

Closing her eyes, Sara was ready to lose herself in the moment. Suddenly, though, it hit her. Pulling away, she typed, “Forget it. Not while they’re listening.”

“They’ll never hear,” Jared typed back.

“That’s right,” Sara typed. “They won’t.”

“Are you serious?”

Sara pounded out nothing but an exclamation point.

“Fine, I’ll just sit here and suffer,” Jared typed. “Here I am suffering. I’m suffering. I’m suffering.” He paused. “I’m still suffering.” When Sara slapped him on the back, he wrote, “What else happened at work? Any news?”

“Not yet,” Sara typed. “Tomorrow.”

When Sara and Jared had sat down to start typing, neither of them noticed that their desk had been moved about a quarter of an inch to the right. They didn’t notice the additional upward tilt of their computer monitor or the brand-new splitter and extra wire that had been connected to the main monitor cable. And they certainly didn’t notice the way the split wire ran behind the desk and into a perfectly drilled hole in their wall. Or how that wire snaked its way down alongside the gas furnace’s vent pipe, which led directly to the basement. When it reached the basement, the wire connected to another monitor. And on that monitor, he read every word Jared and Sara typed.

Early Tuesday morning, Sara stepped onto the elevator with her shoulders back and her chin high. Darnell took one look and smiled. “My, oh, my, you must be eating those Wheaties,” he said. “You got the look of a champion.”

“That’s my secret,” Sara said.

As the elevator doors were about to shut, a young man wearing a short-sleeve dress shirt jumped inside. Sara instantly recognized him as the man who not only delivered the booking sheets to ECAB but had also originally suggested that she steal Victor’s case.