But went to find a corkscrew and tend to the wine.
She’d set the small table in her kitchen. It was just an eat-in alcove, and the table—a high-top—only sat four. But the walls were decorated with French cooking art and the alcove was cozy. This wasn’t dining room entertainment. They weren’t an item.
“I figured us for the table I saw this morning out by the pool,” he told her, bringing their glasses of wine to the table. She’d said she was fine, but the drapes were all drawn and...if she was scared, they should talk about it.
“Since this is personal and we’re not starting something, I’ll just tell you that I had an incident last night and would prefer to stay indoors.” She put the plate of pork in the middle of the brown wood high-top. Added a gravy boat of sauce. Pulled some little red potatoes and fresh green beans out of the oven.
“Let’s toast,” he said, holding up his glass before either of them sat. And when she lifted her glass to his, added, “To being friends with benefits.”
She hesitated, studying him, and then clicked.
He sat.
“I’m fine,” she said before he had a chance to figure out how to bring up the vandalism that had her hiding out behind closed blinds. “I just... Until...well... I felt like a sitting duck, being in here knowing someone could see in.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he told her. “You’re taking the threat seriously.”
“It’s my first,” she told him as if that was some big secret or something to be ashamed of. “Others in the office have had them, but always sent to the office. And, like, in the eight years I’ve been there, there’ve only been three.”
“Did they find out who sent them?”
“Nope. And nothing ever happened to the addressees, either.”
The threat against her had come to her home. “Is there anyone in your personal life—anyone who might think you could expose something?”
She’d said her ex-husband had been a high-powered attorney, not always working with the most law-abiding clients.
“What personal life?” she smirked. And then, “Seriously, I work all the time. I haven’t dated in over a year. This person just told me to ‘leave it alone.’ That’s not like someone who’s mad at me personally. Or jealous or anything. It’s someone who wants me to quit working on something I’m working on. It has to be. Work is all I do. Chantel is going through my current cases...”
He agreed with her.
“I’m sure it’s Bill.”
He’d visited with Bill that afternoon. And with a couple of his neighbors. “He was home all night. I’ve got a witness who saw him through his living room window, watching the game.”
“What time?”
“Around nine.”
“I was almost home by then.”
“I’ve verified that his truck was in his driveway at six. And again between seven thirty and eight.”
“The security camera showed Bill walking in the gate behind a car at just after seven. And even if he was home, he could have paid someone in the neighborhood, or elsewhere, to do it for him.”
She had an argument for everything—because, in her job, she’d seen just about everything.
He didn’t want to spend the evening arguing.
* * *
Emma didn’t really want to talk about this case any further. Or any of them. She wanted to forget, for a few minutes at least, that someone was going to be pissed when she didn’t “leave it alone.” Whatever that meant.
And that whoever it was was fairly certain she’d know who he was. The only defendant she knew who’d ever given her cause to fear for her life was Bill Heber. The way he’d looked at her in the courtroom...there was no way she’d imagined the anger simmering beneath his surface. The only thing standing between him and his wife had been Emma and he wasn’t going to have that.
In the end, he’d been right. She hadn’t been able to stand between him and Suzie.
There was a new end in sight now. And she wasn’t backing down.