C.J. Carmichael - A Little Secret between Friends

“I hear you, Pam.” But if Rick wasn’t working, he had no income. “What did he do with the proceeds of his business?”

“He wouldn’t tell me, but a mutual friend says he bought some land down by Pincher Creek. He isn’t renting it or anything, so there’s no income from that source, either.”

Land. Sally smiled. “We can register a support order against his property to create a lien.”

“What does that mean?”

“You need to contact Maintenance Enforcement again. They’ll file a writ against the land on your behalf. Unfortunately, that won’t put any cash in your pocket right now, but when he goes to sell—which he’ll undoubtedly want to do soon—he’ll have to pay you arrears plus interest.”

“Sally, I need money now. Or the kids and I are going to have to go back to the shelter.”

“Phone Maintenance Enforcement today. Hopefully just the threat of action will get Rick to pay. Besides, how much longer do you think he’ll be able to stand living with his mother?” Pam had told her before how the woman drove both her and Rick crazy with her nosy interference.

“I guess it’s worth a try.” Pamela glanced at her watch. “I should be getting back to work. The last thing I need right now is to lose my job.”

“Okay. Try not to worry. Rick’s not going to get away with this.” As Sally walked Pam to the elevators, she asked about the kids. Samuel was now five, Tabby three. Like most mothers, Pam’s face lit up as she talked about her children. She was smiling when they parted.

Back in her office, Sally found it more difficult to keep up her own good spirits. She was so tired of dealing with men like Rick. Didn’t he see that by lashing out at his former spouse he was hurting his own children?

If only he could be in the position of holding a crying child at night and not having the money to buy the medicine to make her better.

Or would he even care?

Weary already, though it was only ten o’clock, Sally picked up her pen and began to jot notes for the file. The phone rang before she was through the first sentence.

“Sally Stowe speaking.”

“Hi, Sal. Hard at work already, are you?”

It was Neil. Sally dropped her pen and ran her hand through her hair until she’d found the neat line of stitches at the side of her head. She traced the line back and forth with her index finger and contemplated hanging up without another word.

“How’s Lara?” he asked.

No mention of what had happened Friday night. She’d been half expecting an apology but wasn’t surprised he chose not to bring up the incident at all. Maybe he was embarrassed. She hoped so. “Lara’s fine. Gearing up for the big race next weekend.”

“I’ll be taking her to that,” he said.

It was Neil’s weekend with Lara coming up. “I know.” If she and Neil were able to get along better, she would have loved to watch the races, too. But Lara became anxious whenever she and Neil were in close proximity.

“Lara needs to be in top condition for the weekend,” Neil warned. “Feed her lots of meat—a good steak dinner or a roast beef. Not just those god-awful tofu stir-fries you like to eat.”

“I’ll make sure Lara has plenty of protein.” Sally rolled her eyes, though in truth she was comfortable with this, the negotiating of care for their daughter. She didn’t really mind Neil checking up on her this way, even though his concern was totally unnecessary. She was thankful that Neil was a good father. She could put up with his crap as long as he treated Lara right.

“And don’t let her stay up too late at night. She needs to be rested.”

“Of course.” Lord, Neil could be so overbearing.

Suddenly his voice switched from a lecturing tone to something soft and intimate. “Oh, and Sal?”

On guard, she said cautiously, “Yes?”

“How’s the new boyfriend?”

“What?” He’d caught her completely by surprise with this one.

“Don’t play innocent. I saw the SUV in your driveway on Saturday morning. It was still there until just before Lara got home.”

Neil had seen Colin’s vehicle? Sally felt suddenly ill to her stomach. How long had he been watching her house? Was this something he did often?

“This is none of your business, Neil.”

“Maybe not. Still, you ought to be careful. A judge has to be circumspect about the men she’s keeping company with. Especially a judge who hasn’t yet been officially appointed.”

The bastard was trying to threaten her. She remembered the last words he’d uttered on Friday night before he’d left her half-unconscious on the kitchen floor. He’d said he would make sure she was never appointed to the bench. He’d promised to see her disbarred instead.

Sally hung up the phone firmly. She wouldn’t let her ex play these mind games with her. He might be a very successful criminal lawyer with political connections of his own, but he couldn’t touch her. She’d done nothing wrong.

Even as she had that thought, she pictured Colin Foster reclined on the chair in her bedroom, watching her with a light in his eyes that she recognized all too well.

Had he realized how much she’d wanted to invite him into her bed with her?

Oh, Lord. How could she feel this way about the man who had been her best friend’s husband?

SINCE BETH’S DEATH, Colin had started getting to work late. This was a direct corollary to his sleeping pattern, which involved tossing restlessly in bed until about four or five in the morning, at which time he would finally drop off, only to be awoken by his alarm a few hours later.

Inevitably, he hit the snooze button. Once, twice, a third time.

There was no warm body beside him to kick his shin. No cranky voice to say, “If you hit that thing one more time…”

As a teacher, Beth’s workday had started an hour later than his. A good thing, since she’d never been a morning person, while Colin loved the peace and quiet of dawn, the opportunity to savor the beginning of a day filled with possibilities. In an ideal world, he was the first to arrive at the office. He’d turn on the photocopier, start a pot of coffee, then sequester himself in his office to review the list of cases he would be prosecuting that day.

This Monday morning, however, was turning out far from ideal. After too many jabs of the snooze button, he rushed into the office only thirty minutes before he needed to be in court. Aware that his jacket was improperly buttoned and his jaw still bled from a rush job of shaving, he tried to hurry into the sanctuary of his office.

“Good morning, Mr. Foster.” The front-desk receptionist eyed him with an indulgent, if slightly worried, smile.

He ducked his head and aimed for the main corridor where he almost bowled over a prosecutor he’d worked with for years.

“Hi, Colin. Any chance you can make lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ll get back to you on that.” He nodded and picked up his pace. Only a couple more steps and he would be—

The articling student he’d hired last summer materialized in front of him. “I have a question about that file you left on my desk yesterday.”

He held up a hand, in a gesture that meant later, and finally slipped gratefully into his office. He closed the door, sighed then turned around.

Only to see one of the junior prosecutors waiting by the window. Judith Daigle had entered the law profession late, after a messy divorce at age thirty-three. She was now thirty-eight, a member of the bar and, since Beth’s death, unremittingly attentive.

“Good morning, Colin. Did you have a good weekend? I hope you enjoyed the casserole.”

Colin didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth—that he’d tossed it, and the aluminum pan it came in, straight into the garbage. Once, when he’d stopped by Judith’s house to drop off a writ, he’d seen a fat orange tabby—one of several of Judith’s cats—parading on her kitchen table. With that picture in his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to eat any of the meals she so thoughtfully prepared for him.