favor once and now I’ll do one for you. Like paying it forward.”
Rachel had been suspicious, but also desperate and so she’d taken Lexis’s card and soon sent her Luke’s files. To her astonishment Lexis had helped, found key leads that had given Rachel the ammo she needed for a retrial. And then Luke had been murdered in prison. Now Rachel had a chance to pay Lexis back again. She dialed. “Lexis knows handwriting and if these are fake she’ll tell me.”
“You’re going to need a baseline, won’t you?”
“Lexis figures all that out.”
Rachel neared the Vanderbilt University arches in her car when her cell rang. Distracted by her mission she picked up the phone without glancing at the number.
“Rachel Wainwright?”
“That is correct.”
“This is Susan Martinez, Channel Five.”
The light at 16th and Broadway turned red and Rachel gratefully accepted the delay. “Susan. We’ve been playing phone tag today.”
“I know and I’m sorry about that. How’s your jaw?”
Hurts like hell. “It’s fine. Barely a mark.”
“I called Miss Miller this morning. I’ll be interviewing her and wondered if I might be able to follow up with you.”
As much as Rachel wanted to keep her story in the spotlight, she hesitated before saying, “What kind of questions are we talking about?”
“Background on your client. What it’s been like for him the past three decades.”
Sounded good but she sensed bait on a lure. Still, the chance for more airtime could not be passed up lightly. “Sure. What time?”
“Say four. I’d like to make the six o’clock news.”
“Sure.”
“Your office?”
Her brain catalogued how much she’d have to clean before the news crew arrived. “Four it is.”
“Great. See you then.”
Rachel rang off as the light turned green and followed Broadway as it branched to the right. Five minutes later she’d parked on the street by Vanderbilt.
She walked down the brick sidewalk through the gates of the university and to a cluster of buildings called the Stevenson Center. The math department was in Building One where Lexis taught math. A short elevator ride found her approaching Lexis’s basement office. She saw the name plaque that read D R . L. H ANOVER and knocked.
“Enter.”
The thick scent of cigarette smoke greeted her as she entered the cramped office packed with shelves crammed tight with books and papers. Lexis sat behind a small desk teeming with stacks of books. An in-box overflowed with papers, an ashtray brimmed with ash and a half-dozen coffee cups lined the desk’s edge. Judging by the stale smell, this place hadn’t been cleaned in months.
Dark square glasses and a black turtleneck sharpened the lines on her angled face and whitened gray hair that flowed to broad shoulders. “Rachel. Loved the show on the news last night.”
Rachel grimaced. “Not one of my finer moments.” Lexis stood. “Not at all. You’d not have made the news if that lady hadn’t slugged you. Was she a plant? Did you stage that?”
Rachel rubbed her still-tender jaw. “No, it was not staged.”
“Then count your lucky stars. Jeb Jones wouldn’t have hit most radar screens if you’d not been slugged.”
“Good to know it wasn’t all in vain.”
“Not at all. There a bruise?”
She tapped her chin gingerly with her fingertip. “Oh, yeah.”
Lexis moved closer and inspected the spot. “Rub off some of that makeup and let the bruise show. Badge of honor.”
“Feels like the mark of a fool. I should have seen it coming.”
Lexis shrugged. “That reporter called you for a follow-up?”
“I spoke to Ms. Martinez minutes ago. We have another interview today.”
“Good.” She reached for a fresh cigarette and fumbled for a lighter. “How’s Mr. Jones doing?”
Rachel frowned. “He’s not well. And he fears he’ll die in prison.”
A frown furrowed her brow as she flicked the silver engraved lighter. It didn’t ignite. “You’ll make a
Rachel had been suspicious, but also desperate and so she’d taken Lexis’s card and soon sent her Luke’s files. To her astonishment Lexis had helped, found key leads that had given Rachel the ammo she needed for a retrial. And then Luke had been murdered in prison. Now Rachel had a chance to pay Lexis back again. She dialed. “Lexis knows handwriting and if these are fake she’ll tell me.”
“You’re going to need a baseline, won’t you?”
“Lexis figures all that out.”
Rachel neared the Vanderbilt University arches in her car when her cell rang. Distracted by her mission she picked up the phone without glancing at the number.
“Rachel Wainwright?”
“That is correct.”
“This is Susan Martinez, Channel Five.”
The light at 16th and Broadway turned red and Rachel gratefully accepted the delay. “Susan. We’ve been playing phone tag today.”
“I know and I’m sorry about that. How’s your jaw?”
Hurts like hell. “It’s fine. Barely a mark.”
“I called Miss Miller this morning. I’ll be interviewing her and wondered if I might be able to follow up with you.”
As much as Rachel wanted to keep her story in the spotlight, she hesitated before saying, “What kind of questions are we talking about?”
“Background on your client. What it’s been like for him the past three decades.”
Sounded good but she sensed bait on a lure. Still, the chance for more airtime could not be passed up lightly. “Sure. What time?”
“Say four. I’d like to make the six o’clock news.”
“Sure.”
“Your office?”
Her brain catalogued how much she’d have to clean before the news crew arrived. “Four it is.”
“Great. See you then.”
Rachel rang off as the light turned green and followed Broadway as it branched to the right. Five minutes later she’d parked on the street by Vanderbilt.
She walked down the brick sidewalk through the gates of the university and to a cluster of buildings called the Stevenson Center. The math department was in Building One where Lexis taught math. A short elevator ride found her approaching Lexis’s basement office. She saw the name plaque that read D R . L. H ANOVER and knocked.
“Enter.”
The thick scent of cigarette smoke greeted her as she entered the cramped office packed with shelves crammed tight with books and papers. Lexis sat behind a small desk teeming with stacks of books. An in-box overflowed with papers, an ashtray brimmed with ash and a half-dozen coffee cups lined the desk’s edge. Judging by the stale smell, this place hadn’t been cleaned in months.
Dark square glasses and a black turtleneck sharpened the lines on her angled face and whitened gray hair that flowed to broad shoulders. “Rachel. Loved the show on the news last night.”
Rachel grimaced. “Not one of my finer moments.” Lexis stood. “Not at all. You’d not have made the news if that lady hadn’t slugged you. Was she a plant? Did you stage that?”
Rachel rubbed her still-tender jaw. “No, it was not staged.”
“Then count your lucky stars. Jeb Jones wouldn’t have hit most radar screens if you’d not been slugged.”
“Good to know it wasn’t all in vain.”
“Not at all. There a bruise?”
She tapped her chin gingerly with her fingertip. “Oh, yeah.”
Lexis moved closer and inspected the spot. “Rub off some of that makeup and let the bruise show. Badge of honor.”
“Feels like the mark of a fool. I should have seen it coming.”
Lexis shrugged. “That reporter called you for a follow-up?”
“I spoke to Ms. Martinez minutes ago. We have another interview today.”
“Good.” She reached for a fresh cigarette and fumbled for a lighter. “How’s Mr. Jones doing?”
Rachel frowned. “He’s not well. And he fears he’ll die in prison.”
A frown furrowed her brow as she flicked the silver engraved lighter. It didn’t ignite. “You’ll make a
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