I slipped into the hallway and beat a silent path to Timkin’s chambers. It was restricted by a keypad and a fingerprint scanner, but the biometrics in the building had broken down that morning…I hooked up the decoder and let it do its thing. In less than five seconds, the lock disengaged, and I was able to slip into the office, narrowly missing Grey’s window on the cameras.
“I don’t have eyes in there, so just let me know when you’re ready to leave,” Grey reminded me. Apparently, the judge was too “private,” which meant paranoid in my book, to have cameras in his chambers. He relied solely on the controlled access and distress alarms.
Silently, I shut the door behind me and looked around. The chambers were a large suite of rooms, smaller offices, a conference room, a bathroom, and a few others. But I walked toward the one with the obnoxiously ornate knocker on it. The guy was a pompous ass, and it didn’t surprise me one bit that he would make sure his space was distinct.
A delicious scent wafted to my nose, and my feet automatically moved toward it. There was a small, neat desk in one corner, and although I didn’t see a candle or lotion or anything that would be producing the smell, it was strongest there. Breathing deeply, I felt my mouth water at the hints of vanilla and cinnamon in the air. And to my utter shock, my dick stirred. What the fuck?
“Everything okay?” Grey inquired, reminding me where I was and making me feel like a complete pussy for being captivated by a scent, especially such a feminine one. I’d been so distracted by it that I hadn’t responded to his comment.
I cleared my throat, but my voice was gruff when I answered. “Yeah, just getting the lay of the land.”
Forcing myself to walk away from the tantalizing aroma, I headed toward the big office. There was moonlight filtering through the tall windows, so I didn’t need to use my flashlight to find my way around. However, when I entered the judge’s room, I pulled it from my pocket to help me see smaller details. Like the labels on the file cabinets, and indications of hiding spots.
I opened the first file drawer and started combing the papers. When I didn’t find anything damning, I moved to the next. It was unlikely that the guy would be stupid enough to leave evidence of his misdeeds in an easily accessible spot like that. However, sometimes hiding in plain sight was the safest bet…like fading into a crowd.
And who knew what other dirt I might find, so I went through the entire cabinet. I found plenty of case files where the defendants were completely screwed over in the justice process and even more who were given sentences that were outrageous in relation to the crime. In many cases, like Rom’s, misdemeanors were escalated to felonies on a technicality. Then there were the opposite cases, ones where people who should have been sent to prison for life, or at least longer than five years, such as the drug kingpin whose file I was reading.
I replaced the cases, shaking my head in disgust. We needed to take this motherfucker down by any means necessary. Mac wouldn’t agree, especially when the guy was so high profile, but I was a fucking fixer. I knew how to make it look like a suicide, or he’d overdosed with one of the druggies he’d let off with a light sentence. Hell, I could make it look like a fucking heart attack and no one—and I mean no one—would know the difference. I was that fucking good.
I finished up with the first cabinet, then decided to do a little creeping around before starting on the next one. Without disturbing much—slight shifting of items and the chair could be explained by custodial—I ran my hands over the desk, feeling for out of place notches, gaps in the seams, or anything that didn’t feel right.
Just as my fingers were gliding over a bump in the floor beneath the desk—the bulge was distinctly different that the one that covered a distress alarm—Gray coughed in my ear.
“Shit. Fuck. Someone is headed your way.”
“What?” I hissed, my temper spiking.
“She’s young and dressed so casually, I assumed she would be heading to the records room or somewhere like that. But she got off on the third floor and turned toward Timkin’s office.”
The judge’s suite and courtroom took up a good portion of the left wing on the third floor. “You sure she isn’t headed somewhere else?”
“Yeah, brother. She’s about to walk into the outer office. Better make yourself invisible until she gets whatever she came for. Probably just left her purse or whatever and will be gone in a minute.”
Just in case, I took my gun out of the holster, then stepped into the shadows, close enough to be hidden but with some visibility of the unexpected visitor.