While Justice Sleeps(86)

“Mr. Noah Fox,” the agent said, reading from Noah’s confiscated license. “Agent Lee said no visitors.”

“He’s my attorney,” Avery hastily explained. “He’s safe.” To forestall an argument, she drew him inside. “Agent Lee will approve.”

“I’ll check,” warned the new agent, a stocky, middle-aged woman with a cap of short black curls who introduced herself as Eliza Leighton. When Noah turned and reached for his license, she slipped it into her pocket and patted it once. “I’ll check,” she repeated.

Noah followed Avery into the kitchen and cast a telling look at Jared.

“We had a slumber party,” she explained.

Noah watched as she prepped her coffeemaker, and he laid the folded newspaper on the counter. “Looks like fun.”

The percolating began, and Avery reached into the cupboards for mugs. The clock on the microwave revealed that it was not yet five thirty. “Why do you insist on coming here in the wee hours of the morning?”

    He leaned against the counter and shifted to block her view of the newspaper. “I’ve already been to the gym and the office. You’re my third stop of the day.”

“Third? It’s barely past dawn.”

“I’m an early riser,” he explained slowly. “Thought you might want to talk.”

Suspicion had her turning to fully face him. “About?”

“Your phone’s going to start ringing soon.”

“Why?”

“This.” Reaching for the paper, he cautioned, “I know it looks bad, but we just have to figure out our story, okay?”

“Let me see,” she demanded. Without waiting for him to act, she unfolded the newspaper and froze. “Oh, God.”

“What’s wrong?” Jared got to his feet and crossed to the counter. Before Avery or Noah answered, he turned the paper toward him. “Shit. Avery?”

When she refused to respond, Jared circled the counter and stood close to her. “He shouldn’t have pulled you into this.” He watched with growing concern as she stared at the paper, her eyes unmoving. “Avery, say something.”

Ling quickly joined them in the kitchen, where Avery stood. One look at the front page of the newspaper told Ling what had caused the reaction. “God, Avery. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

On the front page of the Washington Gazette, three photos sat cheek by jowl. The grainy image of Avery and Jared snapped outside her apartment building, a second of Avery half dragging her mother at a Metro stop—a different one than the night she’d run into Justice Wynn—and a third one of Rita, a close-up of her semiconscious face while she was propped against what looked like a dumpster.

Below the images, the sky-high headline read: Justice’s Mistress, Son’s Girlfriend, Junkie’s Daughter—Who Is Avery Keene?

“Noah, I can make you some coffee,” Avery said calmly as she pushed away from the counter. “I thought I’d cook omelets for breakfast.”

“Avery, honey, we need to talk about this,” Ling ventured softly.

    Jared took the paper and skimmed the story. “Son of a bitch. We’ll call the Gazette. Make them print a retraction.”

“Why? If one paper has the story, it’ll be all over the airwaves by drive time. The druggie and her daughter.” Her fingers curled under the shelf of the bar and scraped along the particleboard. She stretched them long, grappling to steady herself in a world suddenly listing. “The Chief won’t believe me this time.”

“I’m already drafting a libel suit,” Noah announced. “This is out of bounds. It’s a slanderous lie designed to discredit you. I’ll have our private investigators figure out who this woman is, and we’ll—”

Avery’s head came up. The smile she offered was brittle. “The woman in the photo is my mother. She’s a drug addict living on the streets of DC.” She carefully splayed her fingers beneath the counter, her voice as careful. Too loud, and she’d shatter, she was certain. “That center photo is from a Metro camera at Gallery Place, I think. She was crashing, and I was taking her to a motel to sleep it off.”

A nub bumped against her right index finger. Shifting her hand, she flicked the tip against the knot. “Her name is Rita Keene. The secretaries for the Chief will confirm her identity, given that she went to visit the Supreme Court on Tuesday.”

“How did they get a photo of her passed out in an alleyway?” Ling asked of anyone in the room. “How in the world would they know where to find her?”

“It doesn’t matter. They found her.” Avery toyed with the bump beneath the counter, her voice listless. “They’ll offer her money to tell her story, and she’ll take it. A junkie’s dream. News at eleven.”

“Avery.”

She shook her head. “Ling, don’t. You know better.” Beneath the counter, she pushed at the nub, surprised when it gave beneath the pressure. The object fell to the ground, and Avery knelt.

Afraid she’d gotten ill, Jared moved quickly to support her. He came around the counter and saw her kneeling. As he shifted to help her stand, he saw the black, blinking dot in her hand.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered beneath his breath as recognition narrowed his eyes.