Adrienne Giordano - The Prosecutor

“At the time, that was true, but I’m intrigued by this video you’ve obtained. If the video is accurate, we might be able to prove that your brother’s constitutional rights were violated. Any information regarding witness testimony should have been turned over to the defense before trial.”

“It’s Giglio material, right?” Emma asked.

Penny cocked her head. “You’ve brushed up.”

“Yes. I’m also a first-year law student at Northwestern. I left a job at a public relations firm so I’d be available during the day to work on my brother’s case. With the hands-on experience, I figured I might as well go to law school. I waitress at night and work my classes in around everything else.”

“Wow. You’re good.”

Emma shrugged. “Not really. My brother is innocent and he’s slated to spend the next twenty-five years in prison. I can’t let that happen.”

Penny’s expression remained neutral, her lips free of any tightening or forced smiles. No pity. Good. They didn’t need pity. They needed a shrewd legal rainmaker.

“That’s why I’m here. I’d like to review the information you’ve collected and possibly take your case. Pro bono. I’m not going to lie: this will be tough. The victim’s father is a Chicago P.D. detective. The State’s Attorney will go to war with us to keep your brother in prison, but I won’t back down. If Brian’s rights were violated, I’ll prove it. Besides that, I’m hungry for a big case and I think yours might just be the one.”

Suddenly, Penny Hennings seemed young. Idealistic maybe. Not the battle-hardened defense attorney her father was. Did it matter? Her wanting to step out from under her father’s shadow and make a name for herself was a great motivator.

She’s a rainmaker, smart and determined.

Emma gestured down the hall to the basement door. “Would you like to see what I have on the case?”

Penny smiled. “You bet I would.”

* * *

ZAC PUSHED HIS ROLLING cart stuffed with case files from the courtroom to his fifth-floor office. Along the way he passed other prosecutors dragging their own heavy loads and their stone faces or smirking, sly grins told the tales of their wins and losses.

Zac’s day had consisted of jury selection for a murder trial he was scheduled to prosecute. The pool of candidates wasn’t ideal, but his evidence was strong and he’d parlay that into a win.

He nudged the cart through his doorway and turned back to the bull pen for Four O’clock Fun. On most days, prosecutors coming from court gathered to compare notes, discuss the personalities of judges and opposing lawyers, anything that might be good information for one of the other ASAs. Some days, Four O’clock Fun turned into a stream of stories that would scandalize the average person, but that prosecutors found humorous. For Zac, gallows humor was a form of self-protection. A way to keep his sanity in the face of the day-to-day evil he grappled with.

“Zac,” Stew Henry yelled, “Pierson got his butt kicked by Judge Alred today.”

“Seriously?”

Alred had to be the easiest-going guy on the bench. It took a lot to aggravate him. Two steps toward the bull pen, Zac’s cell phone rang. He checked the screen. Alex Belson, the public defender on the Sinclair case, returning his call.

“Have to take this,” Zac yelled to the bull pen before heading back to his office. “Alex, hey, thanks for getting back to me.”

“No prob. Got to say, screwy timing since your sister called me today, too.”

“My sister?”

What’s that about?

“Yeah. She’s taking the Sinclair case. Wants copies of all my notes.”

Zac dropped into his chair to absorb this info.

“You didn’t know?” Alex asked.

Penny had left a voice mail earlier in the day, but he’d been in court and hadn’t had a chance to get back to her. “I haven’t talked to her today.”

Another call beeped in and Zac checked the screen. Penny. “Alex, let me call you back.” He flashed over to his sister. “Pen?”

The sound of a horn blasted. Outdoors.

“Hi,” she said. “Are you in your office?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m walking into the lobby. Be there in two minutes.”

She was here. “What’s this about your taking the Sinclair case?”

“Word travels fast. How’d you know?”

“The PD told me. Pen, I caught this case.”

Silence. Yeah, little sister, soak that up. If this case went forward, Zac would be battling his baby sister in court. At twenty-nine, only two years his junior, she was equally competitive when it came to winning her cases. Plus, she had their legendary father as co-counsel.

In short, it would be a bloodbath.

Unfortunately for his sister, Zac planned on winning and giving Dave Moore justice for his daughter.

“So,” Pen said, “I guess my calling you to find out who Ray assigned proved fruitful.”

“You don’t want this case. It’s a dog.”

“Not a chance, big brother. See you in a minute.”

Zac hung up and stared through the open doorway where raucous laughter from Four O’clock Fun raged on. That Alred story must have been a good one. He should have stayed and listened. He could use the laugh.

Two minutes later, Penny swung into his office. Behind her strode a woman wearing tan pants and a black sweater. Emma Sinclair. He’d never met her, but had seen photos of her, including the one from the morning paper still sitting on his desk. That photo hadn’t done Emma any favors. In person, her dark hair extended below her shoulders and, when Zac took in the soft curve of her cheek and her big brown eyes, something in his chest pinged. Just a wicked stinging that reminded him he was in desperate need of a woman’s affections.

Except she was his opponent.

Why the hell was Penny bringing her here?

“Hello, Zachary,” Penny said in that sarcastic, singsong way she’d been addressing him for years. She stepped forward to give him the usual kiss on the cheek, but caught herself.

Yeah, welcome to Awkwardville. For the first time, they were squaring off against each other in the professional arena. Considering that his father and his two siblings were all attorneys, Zac had known he’d eventually face one of them in court. The only thing that had saved him thus far was the Chicago crime rate providing enough cases to go around.

Until now.

Pen gestured to Emma. “Zachary Hennings, meet Emma Sinclair. Brian Sinclair’s sister.”

Zac stepped around the desk and shook hands with Emma. What he expected, he wasn’t sure, but for some reason her warm, firm grip surprised him. Their gazes met for a split second and the intense, deep coffee brown of her eyes nearly knocked him on his butt. But he couldn’t think about Emma Sinclair and her alluring eyes and how they affected him. He had to think of Chelsea Moore.

Dead Chelsea Moore.

He released Emma’s hand and stooped to clear the files off the second chair in his office. The place was a mess. “Have a seat.”

On his way back to his desk, he shot Penny a what-the-heck? look. She grinned. She wanted to play, he’d play.

While doing so, he’d also remind his baby sister that he wasn’t a guy who liked to lose.

* * *

EMMA WATCHED ZACHARY HENNINGS—did he really want people calling him Zachary?—head back to his desk while she took the seat he’d cleared for her.

He relaxed back in his desk chair, Mr. Casual. As if she’d believe he could be comfortable with Penny as the attorney on a high-profile case and the sister of the convicted sitting in front of him. He certainly looked the part, though. Then again, he had that yacht-club look about him. His short, precisely combed blond hair and perfect bone structure just added to the patrician image. The only thing slightly ruffled about him was the unfastened top button on his shirt and his loose tie. The look fit him, however. Country-club rugged.