Law of Attraction Read Free Page A

Attorney’s building. Anna still had hours of work ahead of her, but at least she’d have quiet and privacy in the office she shared with Grace. As a rookie prosecutor, Anna was responsible for a caseload of about two hundred misdemeanors, the lowest-level crimes. Even cases like Laprea’s were relegated to misdemeanorland. There was so much crime, the victim had to get shot or seriously stabbed for it to be considered a felony.
    A wall of scuffed filing cabinets dominated their cramped office. Anna immediately began to file the twenty-one new cases she’d been assigned that day. Organizing her new files was the only way she could keep up with the caseload. Her officemate had a very different approach. Files, 911 tapes, and designer shoes covered Grace’s desk and the floor around her desk. Despite her crisply tailored appearance, the woman was a complete slob. She was also the best friend Anna had in D.C.
    Collapsing into her chair, Grace kicked her conservative courthouse pumps into a corner and pulled a pair of scarlet patent-leather stilettos from her desk drawer.
    “Those shoes’ll be doing something more exciting than I will tonight,” Anna guessed.
    “Charles is taking me to the opera.”
    “Nice!” Anna had to force the enthusiasm into her voice. She’d be alone tonight, as usual.
    Grace’s husband was a partner at a big law firm, and she could’ve spent her days lunching with ladies and organizing charity events. She’d chosen this job the way some women might take up quilting or belly-dancing lessons—because it was an interesting way to fill the time.
    Anna had taken it as a form of penance.
    “Don’t work too late tonight,” Grace scolded, as she headed out the door. “Get a pedicure, or watch The Bachelorette, or do something frivolous and girly.”
    “Have a great time! I won’t be here much longer.”
    “Liar. But at least you’re a cute liar.”
    Grace left a faint cloud of expensive perfume in her wake.
    As Anna filed, she thought about Laprea’s situation. Of all the cases Anna had seen in her short tenure, this one stuck out. Part of it was the age of Laprea’s children. The other part was Laprea’s injuries. Would Anna always be this upset when she saw someone with a gash on her cheek?
    Anna shoved another folder into the drawer, channeling her anger into the act of filing. She wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore. She was in a position to stop the violence.
    Her thoughts turned to Nick Wagner. He’d seemed like a decent guy. How could he keep defending his monster of a client? She understood the system needed defense attorneys, but she couldn’t get why anyone would want that job.
    Sure, it was a coveted position. Public defenders often got a bad rap, but Washington’s Office of the Public Defender was the most prestigious defender’s service in America. Like the U.S. Attorney’s Office, OPD had hundreds of applicants every year for a few openings. Both offices were famous for providing young attorneys with the best litigation training and trial experience in the country. Both organizations took their pick of graduates from the best law schools.
    But brains alone didn’t get anyone a job at OPD. The organization prided itself on being one of the most zealous defense shops in America. D.C.’s public defenders believed that the system was stacked against their clients; that the police were racist, fascist, or corrupt; and that mass imprisonment, not crime, was the real problem with D.C.’s poor communities. OPD lawyers were famously devoted to getting their clients off—in any way possible.
    The result was bitter acrimony between OPD and the U.S. Attorney’s Office. In other cities, it was common to have friendships between prosecutors and public defenders, casual softball games, happy hours. But not in D.C. They were adversaries in the tradition of cats and dogs, Montagues and Capulets, Angelina and Jennifer.
    That morning, for just a moment, Anna had felt a real