Body of Shadows Read Free Page B

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    He was 45, six-one, with blond surfer hair and a manly face with a dimple in his chin, the epitome of what a good trial lawyer should look like.
    "Who are you?"
    "I'm someone who can change your life," she said. "Before I say more, I need your assurance that our conversation will remain personal."
    He sized her up.
    Then he swung the door open and said, "Come in."
    They ended up in the back by the pool in the shade of a cabana with a pitcher of iced tea.
    "This is nice but it's not a courtroom," she said. "You're bored here." She looked around. "I would be too. There's no fight, no action, no conflict. There's no one hanging on your every word." She looked him in the eyes. "You miss that. That's not the question. The question is, how much do you miss it? Do you miss it enough to do what it takes to get it back?"
    He cocked his head.
    "What's your game?"
    "No game," she said. "I'm someone who can get your license back. It's that simple."
    "No one can do that."
    "I can."
    "How?"
    "I'll explain," she said. "But first answer my question. Do you miss it enough to do what it takes to get it back? The reason I ask is that if we go forward, you're going to have to do things. Some extreme things. So, here it is again, do you miss it enough to do what it takes to get it back?"
    A pause.
    His face got serious.
    "Yes."
    "Good," she said. "In that case we may be able to do business together. Let's find out."
    He took a sip of tea.
    "Let's."
     
    She studied the pool.
    "The water looks nice," she said. "Is it warm?"
    "Warm enough."
    She walked over, scooted down and felt it with her hand. It was almost the temperature of a hot tub. The sun reflected into her eyes.
    It felt nice.
    "Have you ever been to New York?"
    Blank shook his head.
    "No."
    "That's where you'll be practicing," she said. "New York. It's nice there. You're going to like it. You're going to be a freaking rock star again. You won’t have a pool though. No one in New York has a pool."

     
    7
    Day One
    July 18
    Monday Morning
     
    Pantage waited until Renn-Jaa stopped knocking, then opened the door a crack, stuck her head out and looked up and down the hall. No one was in sight. Her plan was to slip out of the firm but that changed just before she got to the elevators. Instead, she took the spiral staircase up to 41 and went to Jackie Lake's office. The door was closed but not locked. She slipped in and closed it behind her.
    She sat down in the woman's chair and shut her eyes. Her head spun as if she'd just chugged a glass of wine.
    What happened last night?
    What got so important that it escalated to murder?
    Something grabbed her attention on the floor under the desk. It turned out to be a picture of Jackie straddling a man's lap as if giving him a lap dance.
    It was jagged but sensual.
    The man was enjoying it.
    So was Jackie.
    Pantage stuffed it in her bra next to her heart and closed her eyes.
    The darkness was a drug.
    She needed more.
    Suddenly the door opened and Xavier Zarra walked in, one of the senior partners from the top floor. The shock on her face was palpable.
    "What are you doing in here?"
    "I don't know. Saying goodbye, I guess."
    "This office is off limits," she said. "There was a global email sent this morning to that effect."
    "I'm sorry, I—"
    "Did you touch anything?"
    "No."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Yes."
    The woman gave a mean look, then let it transition to a smile.
    "We're all upset," she said. "Let's just try to handle it."
    "Okay."
     
    She walked back down to 40 and headed for the elevators, only to spot a man and woman in the reception area. The man was about thirty-four, six-two, with a solid body and a drop-dead gorgeous face that belonged on the cover of GQ. He had longish brown hair that tended to flop over his eyes. He wore jeans, black leather shoes, a blue cotton shirt and loose blue tie. He was engrossed with one of the oil paintings on the wall, the Delano.
    The woman was younger, African American, with a gym build.
    The man turned