Adrienne Giordano - The Defender

The war.

“This may shock you, Zachary, but I will follow his advice. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. Still, the idea that Dad was targeted because he defended someone’s rights seems hypocritical. Not that I understand the criminal mind.”

“Amen to that,” Zac said. He rapped his knuckle on the door. “Get packed up. I’m hungry and I’m tired.”

“A deadly combination,” Emma deadpanned.

Zac threw her the king of hairy eyeballs. Oh, boy. Knowing just how crabby her brother could be when his sugar crashed, Penny closed her laptop, unplugged it and shoved it into her messenger bag. “Don’t fight. Please. I’ve had enough conflict for one day. I mean, seriously, it’s not every day someone tries to kill me.”

Chapter Three

Russ badged his way into Gerald Hennings’s office, parked in one of the guest chairs and waited for him to get off the phone. It was 10:00 a.m. and the day had already gone to hell. As of 7:43 a.m., after surviving a surgery that would have killed most, the reporter who’d been shot on the courthouse steps was no longer among the living.

This development had Russ reprioritizing his caseload just when he’d gotten traction on Heath. He wanted to nail that guy and send him away for a good long time.

For years, Russ had been chasing guys like Heath, guys who would rob senior citizens and hardworking people of their life’s savings. His own parents had been victimized by a mortgage scammer, and from the day his childhood home had been foreclosed on, Russ let his hurt and anger fuel him on the job. On the days he got sick of the lowlifes, he thought of the morning, at age twelve, he’d stood on the front lawn watching his father turn over the keys to their home. A sight like that didn’t leave a man.

Ever.

Hennings set his phone in the cradle and relaxed back in his chair. Fit for a man his age, he was legendary in Chicago for his pristine appearance. Rarely had his expertly cut salt-and-pepper hair been seen out of place. Add to that his custom shirts and flashy suspenders, and reporters all over the city now referred to him as Dapper DL, short for Dapper Defense Lawyer.

“Good morning, Agent Voight.”

Russ leaned over the desk and shook his hand. “Morning, sir.”

“You have an update for me?”

“I do. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but the reporter involved in the shooting died this morning.”

“I did hear that. Tragedy. We’ll send our condolences.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand what drives someone to do this.”

Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t defend these monsters. That was another conversation, though. Right now he had news and, figuring Gerald Hennings liked his bad news brief and to the point, he dived in. “I’m not at liberty to give you details, but we’ve seen enough evidence to suggest you may have been the target of the shooting yesterday.”

To the man’s credit, he didn’t react. His face remained neutral. No raised eyebrows, no frown, not even a blink. Russ supposed years of defending scumbags had honed his body-language skills.

“I see,” he said. “And you’re sure it was me? Not Penny?”

That, Russ couldn’t say. “We’re not a hundred percent. You and Penny were in close proximity to the shooting and reporters generally aren’t targeted that often. With the location involved, there is likely a bigger issue as opposed to a random shooting.”

Hennings finally gave him some body language and rolled his bottom lip out. “Something tells me that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

Smart man. Russ nodded. “We’re arranging protection for you, Penny and Zac.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“We’d rather play it safe while we’re investigating. You can expect more questioning today, and we’re coordinating with the U.S. Marshals to get you protection.”

If the man had any issues with the plan, he gave no indication of it. Too bad he was a defense lawyer. He’d make a damned fine FBI agent.

“I appreciate that,” Hennings said. “When can we expect someone? I need to tell Zac. And my daughter.”

Lucky him. “It’ll be today.”

“Good.” He propped his elbows on the desk, ran both hands over his perfect, albeit thinning, styled hair, then cracked a smile. “Would it be considered bribing an officer if I paid you a hundred dollars to tell Penny?”

And damn if he didn’t like this guy. “You’re apprehensive about the protection?”

“No. I’m apprehensive about telling my stubborn daughter a marshal will be tagging along wherever she goes. You’d better find someone with stamina. She’ll debate everything.”

Don’t I know it? Then again, an assignment like this, minus the hundred bucks, might be one Russ could cherish. He’d hold this sucker in his heart for the rest of his life.

“Sir, five months ago, your daughter subjected me to the most brutal cross-examination I have ever endured. She whipped me so hard I’m still bleeding.”

Hennings’s smile went full-blown. Clearly the man adored his daughter. “I taught her well.”

“You did. Which I should be ticked at you about, but I’m going to help you out here. You keep your hundred bucks, because after that beating she put me through, I’d love nothing more than to tell her that when it comes to her safety, she’ll have to do exactly what I say. That will be the most fun I’ve had in years.”

* * *

PENNY HUSTLED ACROSS the flooded Chicago street barely beating the walk signal and almost getting plastered by a cabbie who’d obviously had too much caffeine.

Caffeine overload was exactly her intention on this short trip from her office in the adjacent building. Considering sleep had eluded her most of the night, the double-shot latte might do the trick. Being the freak of nature she was, five hours of slumber each night was all she needed. Mostly. Last night she’d been woefully short. Apparently, being the victim of a crazed sniper wasn’t conducive to restful sleep.

Don’t think about it. She pushed through the revolving door of Erin’s Gourmet Coffee, where the frigid air—a lovely relief from the unseasonably vicious heat—and the aroma of fresh coffee welcomed her. Add Erin’s acclaimed hot scones and Penny went into sensory overload. Come to me, baby.

She stepped to the back of the four-deep line and glanced around. Not an open table to be had. Just as well. She’d told the receptionist she’d only be a few minutes. No time to dawdle. And since when did she like to dawdle? If this was what a lack of sleep did, she wanted no part of it. Building a great law career meant no breaks when she should be studying case files.

Her cell phone rang and she slipped it from her jacket pocket. Blocked number. This should be good. Being a defense attorney, blocked numbers always proved somewhat entertaining. Could be a paranoid client. Could be a potential client. Could be a whole host of things that would turn her ho-hum day into one heck of a humdinger.

She hit the button before the call went to voice mail, then stuck a finger in her ear to silence the echoing conversations of the packed shop. “Penny Hennings,” she said in her tough-as-nails lawyer voice.

“Ah, the lovely Penny Hennings. I’m surprised you took my call.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be, since your number is blocked and I don’t know who this is. If you didn’t expect me to pick up, why call?”

“This is Colin Heath.”

Penny shoved the phone away and stared at it. Had the thing shifted to animal form? Never before had she received a call from a man one of her clients was about to testify against.

Suddenly, her father’s voice boomed in her head, advising her to forget her nerves. To approach her subject in that cool, collected way she’d practiced for years and then, when the moment presented itself, to slowly lure her prey in and strike.