The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(30)

“Are you Rick Drake?” the woman asked.

Leaning back from her, Rick sized the woman up. Black pant suit, brown hair cut off above her shoulder line, around five feet four inches tall with olive skin and brown eyes. Beautiful, no doubt but, judging by the needy look in her eye, she wanted something from Rick. Another reporter, he thought.

“Look, if this is about the Professor, I’m not giving any interviews,” Rick said, brushing past the woman and beginning to walk towards his car. He had continued to be pestered by various news outlets since the Professor’s retirement, and his stance hadn’t changed. He would not be made a fool of.

“I don’t want to interview you,” the woman said, catching up to him. “I want a job.” Rick had started to walk faster, but then stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

“Mr Drake, I’m a second-year law student at Alabama and–” she sucked in her breath “–I was hoping to talk to you about a job.”

Rick laughed, and started walking again. “Tell Powell I said this was very funny, but I don’t have time for pranks. I have a long trip ahead of me. How long have you been in the DA’s office?”

Rick pressed the unlock button on his keychain and reached for the door, but the woman stepped in front of him.

“I don’t know what you think this is,” she began, “but I don’t work for the DA’s office and I don’t know anyone named Powell. I want to work for you. I want to be your law clerk.”

Rick started to make another smartass comment, but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. She was furious. This can’t be real.

“You want to work for me?” Rick asked.

“Yes.”

“Me?” Rick repeated.

“Yes, are you deaf?”

Rick chuckled. “Insulting me is probably not the best way to go about this.”

The woman’s face turned crimson. “I’m sorry, I...”

“I’m kidding,” Rick said. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but the fact is that I just don’t have the funds to take on a–”

“I’d work for free,” she interrupted. “For the experience. If that’s OK.”

Rick’s jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me?”

For the first time, the woman smiled. “No,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I’m not. Here.” She reached into the small briefcase she was holding and pulled out a sheet of crème-colored bonded paper. “This is my resume. I’m in the top twenty per cent of my class. I’m on law review. I clerked for Tomkins & Fisher last summer and got the defense perspective, but now I want some experience from the plaintiff’s side. I’ll work around my school schedule and I’ll work weekends if need be. I...” She paused, gathering herself. “I want to be a trial lawyer... like you.”

Like me? How did you even hear of me? Rick wondered, glancing down at the resume. It was all there: 4.0 undergrad from Alabama and a 3.8 at the law school. Top twenty per cent, law review, etc. “I... I don’t know...” Rick said. He was stalling, trying to figure out what to do. This is crazy. He thought about the four-hour trip he was about to make. What would Wilma Newton be like? Receptive? Defensive? A grade-A bitch?

Then he turned back to the woman, who, now that he had a chance to size her up, looked every bit the part of the eager law student. Na?ve. Sincere. Passionate.

“Look...” Rick began to tell her “thanks but no thanks,” then stopped. She might be able to help. If Ms Newton won’t talk to me, then maybe...

He gazed into her brown eyes, which did not waver from his own. Beautiful, smart and she wants to work for me. Rick almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Then, remembering the immortal words of Crash Davis – “Don’t think, Meat. It’s bad for the ball club” – Rick made his decision.

“OK, I’ll hire you but only on one condition.”

“Name it,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“I’m leaving right now to go to Boone’s Hill, Tennessee to meet with a witness. It’s four hours away, so we probably won’t get back until past 2 in the morning. I’ll brief you on the way, but you have to go with me. Now.”

The woman didn’t blink. Instead, she stepped around Rick, and hopped into the front seat.

“Fine by me,” she said, smiling up at him. “But I get to drive.”

Rick gazed down at her, feeling completely out of sorts. He had not expected her to say yes. Forcing his legs to move, he walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger-side door. He had never sat in the passenger seat before nor had he let anyone else, even Powell, drive his car. This is surreal.

He looked at his pretty new clerk, and held out the car keys. When she took them, he held onto her hand.

“I guess, before I let you drive my car, I need to know your name.”

The woman smiled. “It’s Dawn.” She squeezed his hand and then put the key in the ignition. “Dawn Murphy.”





22


The Sands Restaurant had a “Waffle House” feel to it, Rick thought, as he looked around the place and took in the scent of grilled hamburgers and coffee. There were several booths that lined the main window with a view of the parking lot, and Rick and Dawn had taken one of these.