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  “That’s great.”

  “You have no idea.” She turned back to the large room. The walls were painted a vibrant salmon before melting into a bluish color that worked. It made him think of a vivid sunset and the rainbow of colors she usually tucked into her outfits even when wearing a stern suit in the courtroom.

  A faint whistle sounded from around the corner. She bolted toward it before coming back around with a kettle. “Guess I forgot to turn this off.”

  “Don’t do that often, do you?”

  “Just days like today. Good thing it was full when I turned it on.” She led him to the narrow galley kitchen. “I have tea or instant coffee.”

  Instant? He might have to rethink drinking anything. He must have wrinkled his nose or something, because she laughed.

  “How about French press instead?”

  “That sounds better.”

  She measured grounds into the press then added the water. They were quiet as the water darkened. She grabbed a couple of mugs from a cupboard and filled them. “Sugar or milk?”

  “Still take it black.”

  “Guess I should have remembered.”

  He tensed. “Sorry. Black is great. And you’ll have two teaspoons of sugar and some milk. And when you’re done it’s not really coffee anymore.”

  Color flooded her cheeks. “I add syrup now. Peppermint.”

  “Isn’t that a Christmas flavor?”

  “Only if you don’t stock up.”

  She slipped past him and headed to a small love seat tucked under a window. The seat had a feminine print of some sort and, based on the books and coaster piled on the table in front of it, was her preferred place to relax. He glanced around but didn’t see a TV anywhere. Not even a cabinet that could hide one. Instead, a solid walnut bookshelf filled the nook, every square inch lined with titles.

  “What you expected?” She smiled over the top of her mug at him. Guess he’d been busted.

  “It’s you.”

  “I like to think so. Where do you live?”

  “A condo downtown.”

  She stopped drinking and stared. “DC?”

  “Nah. Old Town Alexandria. One of the run-down town houses. Probably hasn’t been renovated since the war.”

  “World War Two?”

  “Civil. The only good Yankee is…”

  “A dead Yankee.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Judge Banter said it with teasing, but I always think of him when I see art from the war.” She bracketed the words with her fingers. “Which side was the artist on?”

  “He loved the Civil War. Did you know he was researching for a nonfiction book he wanted to write?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t. Guess you were closer.”

  “No. Just interested.” He had thought the judge was on the right track. More than revisionist history, his theories would transform the way the Battle of Manassas was interpreted. Could his death be related to his research? He took a swig of coffee and grimaced as it burned a track down his throat.

  “That bad?” Ciara’s eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “I offered sugar and milk.”

  “No, just had another thought.” But as he met her gaze, he decided he wanted to make the most of this opportunity to show her they could recover what they had as young law school grads clerking for the world’s best judge.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning Ciara sat at her desk, reliving the prior evening. After they talked a bit, a switch flipped and Daniel shifted from the murder into a charming companion. She’d laughed as he told stories about a client who brought his kids to the office. Each time the client did, Daniel found colored crayon gifts all over his walls.

  She couldn’t pull her thoughts back to work. Between Judge Banter’s murder and Daniel’s charm, she felt distracted and out of sorts. Maybe staying at work had been a mistake after all.

  Linda hurried in with a stack of files, but slowed when she saw Ciara. Her sky blue eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” She nodded to the pile. “What have you got for me?”

  “A stack of new motions filed by opposing counsel in these matters. The most important is this file.” Linda handed it across the desk. “The dad’s moving for a reduction in child support. Claims his income has decreased 25 percent so his support obligation should, too.”

  “Is he represented?”

  “Your favorite.”

  Ciara groaned. “And I was just starting to like him again.”

  “Not sure I’d waste the energy. Why does Mr. Evans always end up with the deadbeats?”

  “He told me last night Judge Banter routinely fed those types of clients to him. All in an effort to help him build a practice.”

  “Humph. Not sure that helped him much. I never could understand why a guy as smart as him didn’t land with a firm. Must not interview well.”

  Ciara couldn’t stifle a laugh at the thought. Daniel’s charisma should pull in whoever interviewed him and leave them begging for more. He had the engaging smile and direct gaze that made a person want to like him. In fact, if he practiced on her side of the cases, they’d still be friends. She was sure of it.

  “Well, here you go.” Linda patted the stack and moved to the door. “Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and your appointment is running behind.”

  “Will do.” Ciara grabbed the top file and read through it. Another sob story from a father who claimed the world had collapsed on him. Sometimes it did. Even she could admit that. But sometimes, the dad resented his child support obligation and stopped working to avoid paying. She’d have to scan the file to determine this father’s category.

  Funny how one conversation could tilt her perspective about a man she’d thought she understood. Guess she’d jumped to conclusions. Though one good night didn’t erase years of courtroom drama. Did it?

  Ciara pulled up Glenda’s number and waited for the call to ring.

  “Hello?” The hollow voice sounded nothing like the usually vibrant Glenda.

  “Ms. Baxter?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “Ciara Turner. I’m so sorry about Judge Banter.”

  A soft sob filled the line. “You found him?”

  “With Daniel, yes.”

  “I don’t understand how something like this could happen. He never mentioned anything to me.”

  Ciara doodled on the legal pad next to her phone. “Did you notice anything unusual? People he saw, blocks of time he asked you not to schedule?”

  “You sound like that detective.” With Glenda’s tone, Ciara couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or not. “Each day was busy and full. You know the drill. Judge Banter packed every moment. That’s why he came in so early. Especially since his wife died, he worked hard to get out of the court at a decent time. No more late nights since Alexander needed a parent.”

  “What happens to Alexander now?”

  “The kid started college last fall. I imagine he’ll stay in college, though I’m not sure I could hold it together. All alone at eighteen.” Glenda’s sigh mirrored Ciara’s. “Why all the questions?”

  “Daniel and I talked last night. I can’t shake the image of the judge on the floor. Guess I feel a need to wrap my mind around what happened.”

  “If you figure it out, let me know. This is one event I’ll never understand. I’m adding it to that list I’m taking with me to the Pearly Gates.”

  They chatted a couple more minutes before Linda tapped the edge of Ciara’s door and pointed at her watch. “Glenda, gotta run. Client just arrived. Please let me know if you need anything.”

  Ciara tried to switch gears to custody matters and brace for her client and whatever stories she brought. A glance out the window had her wishing for time to escape outside for a quick walk in the spring air. Maybe with a certain someone at her side.

  This tale would never end. Daniel was absolutely, completely convinced his client would never run out of terrible things to say about his ex. Days
like this, Daniel wished he’d stayed in Leesburg to run his family’s restaurant. Even days spent with clothes soaked with the aroma of grease would be better than listening to Ralph Manchiso spew this garbage.

  He held up a hand, and his client sputtered to a stop. “I get the picture.”

  The burly guy crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. “I ain’t done.”

  “I can continue to sit here, but you will get a bill for each minute. Or we can move on to what, if anything, you can do.”

  Ralph shrugged. “I ain’t done.”

  “It’s your money.” Daniel sat back and tuned the rest of the words out. This guy didn’t need an attorney. He needed a therapist. Too bad Daniel got to fill that role today. As he half listened, his thoughts wandered. He needed to track down Alexander Banter. Probably shouldn’t call Glenda, since Ciara would contact her.

  Last night had been good. Really good. Amazing how a short walk, a cup of java, and a little conversation could restart something he’d thought couldn’t be resurrected.

  “You listening to me?” Ralph thumped a fist on the table. “If you’re gonna bill me, you oughta listen.”

  Daniel tugged his attention to the man. Better to concentrate and extricate the man from the building than get him riled. The man had the temper to back his restraining order. Finally, an hour later he escorted the man from the office. When he walked back in, his assistant—his “man Friday”—shook his head.

  “That guy is the worst we have.” Clive Tillman sank into his chair at the reception desk.

  “Nice of you to conveniently disappear from your desk.”

  The kid looked unrepentant as he pushed up his shirtsleeves. “The guy gives me the creeps.”

  Daniel shook his head. “This is exactly why I don’t have a female receptionist.”

  “You know that’s discrimination.”

  “Nope. Protection. I wouldn’t want a lady to have to deal with him.” He eyed Clive’s lanky form folded behind the desk. “You shouldn’t have any concerns.”

  Clive reached for a stack of phone slips. “Here are your messages.”

  Daniel flipped through them as he took the few steps to his office. The small waiting area, his office, an office supply room doubling as a library, and a small kitchenette and conference room rounded out his space. Not bad for the few years he’d been in practice. It had taken hard work and long hours, but he’d turned the corner and could see some fruit. He just had to remind himself on days like this, clients like that last one were worth it only because they facilitated everything else he did.

  When he returned to his office, Daniel sank onto his mesh desk chair and kicked back a moment. He needed to do a quick search for Alexander—he’d find something online. Every kid at a minimum had a Facebook or similar site. Then he could call later. If the kid was in college, he’d either be in class or asleep since it was before ten in the morning. He turned to his computer and started clicking away. Bingo. A blog. What did a kid have to share with the world? After scanning a couple of entries, Daniel realized Alexander had a unique way of looking at international affairs. He seemed to see everything through a different lens. Daniel clicked to the bio and grinned. Of course, the kid was a student in Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service. Now his blog made perfect sense.

  Daniel could track him down now, especially if Alexander lived on campus. A call to the switchboard, and he’d be patched through to the appropriate dorm room. Not as good as a cell, but it would start the connecting process.

  As expected, he left a quick message. He’d bet pizza money the kid wouldn’t return the call, but now he had a number. It wouldn’t take much to get a room location either. Then he could stop by and see how the freshman was holding up.

  A few more times over the course of the day, Daniel tried to reach Alexander. The result never changed. The same garbled answering machine picked up. When the day ended, Daniel hopped in his car and headed through traffic into the city and west to Georgetown. He’d love to leave the car, but without a closer Metro stop, he’d walk too far to reach the dorms. Instead, he spent time scouting for an elusive parking spot.

  The kid lived in Village C, one of the residence halls in the heart of campus. Daniel couldn’t imagine arriving unannounced at the hall, so he pulled out his cell and tried one last time as he hoofed it across campus.

  “Hello?” It sounded like Alexander had a cold. His husky voice reminded Daniel of the somber purpose of his call.

  “Alexander, this is Daniel Evans. I used to clerk for your dad.” “So?”

  Daniel bit his tongue. He’d give the kid a little slack for the rudeness. “I was one of the people who found him yesterday. Do you need any help right now? I’m on campus and could meet you.”

  The husky tone of the kid’s voice transitioned to hostility. “Look. I don’t need strangers around or the media.”

  “I don’t mean to intrude. Ciara Turner—she also clerked for your father—and I wondered if you had anyone planning the service. We could…” For someone who had a silver tongue, none of this came out as he’d imagined. “I don’t know how you’re doing, but I’d like to help. If I can ease some of the stuff you have to deal with, I’d like to.” That was marginally better.

  “You found him?”

  “Along with Ciara. We were supposed to have an early meeting with him.”

  “I would like a cup of coffee.” Alexander gave him directions to one of the student-run coffeehouses. Ten minutes later, Daniel waited at an outdoor table, the sun beginning to slip behind the skyscrapers surrounding the campus.

  His phone rang while he sat, and he quickly filled in Ciara. They made plans for another walk… a chance to share what they’d learned. He closed his phone and turned his attention to the students filling the sidewalk. How would he know the right college student in the flood that was trying to reach their next class on time? He searched the foot traffic anyway. A few minutes later a lanky young man with a five o’clock shadow ambled to a stop in front of him. The kid’s gray eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. Daniel imagined he hadn’t slept much since his dad’s death.

  Daniel stood. “Alexander?” The kid nodded. “What can I get you?”

  “A black coffee.” He slouched at the table while Daniel went in and got their drinks.

  It felt awkward as the two sat at the small bistro table, the umbrella’s edges flapping in the breeze. The scent of flowering trees carried toward them and mixed with feelings of somberness that draped Alexander like a coat he’d outgrown.

  “So what did Dad look like?” Alexander studied his coffee as if expecting to find answers for the crazy events of the last couple of days.

  “He was down on the floor. There weren’t puddles of blood or anything like that. Almost like someone hit him on the head.”

  “The police aren’t telling me anything.” Alexander glanced up for just a moment. “I guess they’re trying to protect me… but I want the truth.”

  “So do we, Alexander. So do we.”

  Chapter 4

  Ciara sat on her front stoop as the day slid into dusk. The trees lining the sidewalks had erupted in blossoms and she let the image soak in, replacing the stress of the day. She’d learned early in her practice that she had to find a way to release each day’s troubles. In the summer she used the community pool a few feet from her back door. In the spring, moments like this recalibrated her.

  If traffic hadn’t held him up, Daniel would arrive soon.

  She wasn’t sure what she thought of that.

  The judge’s murder had cast them together, put them on the same side for the first time in years. But she had to be careful. Remind herself how he’d broken her heart once. Everyone could call her a fool if she let him back in without any hesitation.

  She sat on the border of doing just that.

  Letting him slide back into her life as if nothing had ever changed. But it had.

  She rubbed her temples and tried to think about anything else. Even one
of her non-Daniel cases would work. She had to face reality. Once the police caught whoever murdered Judge Banter, things would return to normal. Daniel wouldn’t call a couple of times a day and make plans to stop by in the evening.

  They wouldn’t share cups of coffee and strategy.

  Instead, they’d return to being opponents, squarely defending the rights and needs of their clients. At odds with each other on multiple levels.

  “Enjoying the evening?”

  Ciara startled and dropped her hands in her lap as Susan Holland settled next to her. The woman looked as relaxed and neat as always, the picture of a woman at peace with her life. Bet she didn’t see the beginning of crow’s-feet when she looked in the mirror.

  “Yes. I love this neighborhood and the way it explodes into spring.”

  Susan looked unconvinced, her brown eyes seeming to see through Ciara. “A case bothering you? That’s usually what makes you all pensive.”

  “Not tonight.” There were some things she couldn’t share with her sweet neighbor. Not yet.

  “Well, bring him by Coffee, Tea, and Sweets. I’ll save some of my best scones for you if you call the shop ahead.”

  Ciara grinned. “I didn’t say I was thinking about a man.”

  “What else would it be since it’s not a client? And I’m glad to see it. You need someone who sees how special you are.” The woman patted her hand then stood. “I’ve got to get ready for my book club. The girls’ll be over shortly, and I still have cookies to make. I hope they like this new recipe I’m trying. Delores can be a tad picky.”

  “I’m sure they’ll love them. Everything you make is delicious.”

  “You’re sweet. Good night.”

  “Night.” The sound of a man’s shoes clomped in the growing darkness. Ciara peered that direction, then smiled when she spotted Daniel. She stood and brushed off her jeans.

  “Still up for a walk?” Fatigue etched lines around Daniel’s eyes as he stood in front of her.

  “How’s Alexander?”

  “I’m not sure. He started out hostile, then turned really sad. Didn’t want help, though. Seems determined to strike out on his own from the beginning.”