The Last Invitation (36)

She got up from the chair, happy her legs supported her after hours of not moving very much. She opened the utensil drawer and felt around underneath. The envelope. The one Baines had hidden. A voice told her to hide it, and she did, even though the move reflected a paranoia level that made her uncomfortable.

None of the files Rob had given her contained a single comment or stray thought about Baines. If Rob held negative information on her ex, he wasn’t sharing it . . . yet. She didn’t know if this hidden bid related to any of Rob’s files, but she felt compelled to look.

What she really needed was a second set of eyes. Only one person might know why Baines thought this document was important enough to hide, but that person hated her right now. Might always hate her, but she had to ask.

She took out her phone and texted Liam, but not before scanning in the three-page document and forwarding that.

Her: Do you know what this is?

Liam: A bid proposal

Yeah, no shit. She’d helped Baines and Liam set up the company. She knew how the bidding process worked.

She debated not going into details but decided that wasn’t an option. She’d kept enough secrets from Liam. He deserved to know about this.

Her: Could you skim it? I found it hidden behind a photo in Baines’s house.

Liam: When?

Her: After he died.

The three dots sat there on the phone screen, taunting her. Either Liam was typing out a long explanation or thinking or . . . who knew? The longer the wait, the more her stomach rolled and churned. She was about to tell him to forget it when his return text appeared.

Liam: He shouldn’t have this

That sounded dire. Now they were getting somewhere.

Her: Why?

Liam: It’s from the company we’re bidding against for a big job

Her: So . . . ?

Liam: It’s confidential and now that I know the outline of the other bid, I can adjust ours to be a better, winning bid

Baines, what did you do?

Her: How did he get the top-secret document?

Liam: Excellent question

Her: Who’s the other bidder? Who are you going up against for this big job?

The wait for a reply chipped away at her patience. The sun had gone down, and she sat in a mostly dark house with only the light from the laptop and her phone for guidance. She didn’t get creeped out very easily, but her nerves sparked to life, and a cold shiver had her rubbing the back of her neck to ease it.

Liam: You know them from law school

Her: ??

Liam: Wilcad, the note at the bottom. That’s the name of the company. It’s a combination of Will and Cade—the names of Earl and Loretta Swain’s sons. She was one of your professors, right? Her husband Earl’s company, Wilcad, is the other bidder. This is his confidential bid proposal.





Chapter Thirty-Two

Jessa




Numb. Jessa couldn’t feel anything. She sat in her dark condo and listened to the thump of her heartbeat as it echoed in her ears. She’d rolled through two crying jags, screaming in the silent room about how unfair all of this was, and now she waited.

She’d texted Tim and asked him to come home. After days of working outrageous hours, she needed him here. They had to talk this through. He insisted he’d gotten behind from his business trip, but she suspected the truth pointed more to him hiding from her than billable hours.

Now was his chance to say I told you so. She’d give him one shot, then she needed his focus. A stifling mix of frustration and disappointment kept her from seeing a way to emerge out of this unscathed.

She heard him at the door and thought about standing up. Running to him was way too “damsel in distress” for her liking. She didn’t need a rescue. She needed common sense, and her supply had drained away, leaving her vulnerable.

He stepped inside and threw his keys on the small table next to the door. “Hey.”

The deep, rumbling sound of his voice should have comforted her. Instead, she heard judgment.

She closed her eyes as the reality that he already knew her terrible news hit her. “How did you find out?”

“Despite having the most lawyers per square inch, the metro area legal community is pretty small. Covington and a few of the senior partners in my firm are friends, and . . .” Tim shrugged. “Well, you get it.”

“Apparently, my private information is fair game.” Divulging unfounded allegations against her could get Covington and the entire firm in trouble. More than likely, if she complained he’d deny ever telling anyone and his cronies would back him up.

Tim sat on the armrest of the chair. Not coming one inch closer, keeping the emotional and physical divide between them intact.

He stared at his hands while he talked. “I think the call was meant as a friendly warning to prepare me.”

Him. The patriarchy never took a break. Her shitty day was about him.

He lifted his head and met her gaze straight on. “I told you to drop that case.”

He sounded exhausted. Resigned. Completely out of energy. He thrived on pressure. He lived for deadlines and meetings and all the things that drove her into a paralyzing panic. He memorized every detail of a case. Every discussion. In many ways, he was the lawyer she pretended to be. Competent and assured.

She worried about missing deadlines and failing to find that one piece of evidence in discovery guaranteed to break a case open in her client’s favor. Retta once told her that type of debilitating worry showed a lack of self-confidence.