Vindicate Read online

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah?” he answers, without turning around.

  “Savannah’s trying to scare off a client.”

  He turns and blinks up at me over his reading glasses. “Did I forget about an appointment?”

  “No. This girl doesn’t have an appointment, but shouldn’t you at least talk to her? Could be an interesting case.”

  My father chews this over for a moment. He loves interesting cases, but he loves interesting paying cases more, and I have a feeling that Cora Hollis is going to be the former, not the later.

  “You want to sit in on it with me? See how it’s done?”

  Up until now I’ve managed to find an excuse to be anywhere but where I might learn how anything in this office is done. I shrug a shoulder, trying to hide how glad I am that I get to find out what Cora’s deal is. “Sure.”

  He tosses aside his glasses and runs a hand over the three hairs he combs back to hide his bald spot. “Show her in, then.”

  I arrive back at the reception area just in time. Cora’s leaning across her box, pointing a finger in Savannah’s face. Savannah hates that shit more than she hates being stood up, which I did to her last night. This is why she’s been such a bitch all day and giving Cora a hard time for no reason.

  I finally understand the phrase “Don’t shit where you eat.”

  “Mr. Nash has time for you now,” I say, moving to pick up Cora’s box.

  She jerks it away before I can get a hand on it. “Thanks,” she says. “I’ve got it.”

  “Are you sure? It looks heavy.” I can feel Savannah glaring at me like a hot laser on the side of my face.

  “I just carried it up a flight of stairs,” Cora says. “I think I can manage another few feet.”

  I gesture for her to precede me. As she passes I get a whiff of something spicy. My thoughts immediately go into the gutter and my gaze fixes on her ass as I follow her into Dad’s office. I’ve got to find out what this chick’s story is. Does she have a boyfriend? Does she live close by? Can I get her number?

  As I close the door to Dad’s office, I catch Savannah flipping me off. Shit. She caught me checking out Cora. I really screwed up with Savannah. She’s nice and all, but I’m not looking to hook up permanently, which was all she talked about when I wasn’t drilling her into the mattress. I’m such an asshole sometimes I can’t believe any chick would want to have anything to do with me half the time.

  I’ve got to find a way to fix things with Savannah. Or this summer is going to be a living hell.

  “Cora Hollis,” I begin the introductions. “This is Ed Nash. And I’m Leo. Leo Nash. Dad, Cora Hollis.”

  Dad comes around his desk to try and take Cora’s box for her, but she won’t let him. I like her independence. I like a whole hell of a lot about her.

  She sets the box next to one of the chairs and holds her hand out to my dad. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”

  “My pleasure. Please, have a seat.”

  She takes the one closest to the door, next to where she put her box, and I take the one on the other side. I can look at her now without seeming like a big giant creep. It’s like my senses have gone supersonic where she’s concerned. I take in everything about her. Like her nails, which are long and painted that same vivid blue—Cora blue—all except for her pinkies. Those she’s chewed to nubs. She dresses like she couldn’t care less what people think of her. I respect that. There’s something about her that’s lost, but she acts as though she knows exactly where she’s going. And she doesn’t seem to give a shit about me, which makes me like her even more.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Hollis?” Dad asks.

  “I understand your agency does pro bono work for The Freedom Project,” Cora begins. “My brother, Beau, was falsely convicted of the rape and murder of his ex-girlfriend five and a half years ago. He’s serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dad says, and I want to kick him under the desk, “but we’ve already taken on our one case for the year. If you come back in December—”

  She pops out of her seat, her hands out in front of her, pleading. She’s suddenly vibrating with anger, frustration, desperation, or maybe a mixture of all three. I can’t stop staring at her. She rivets me. She’s like one of those warrior women, going into battle. I imagine her with a shield and a cape that flaps out behind her.

  “Every day my brother sits in prison is another day he could be killed.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “He’s survived two thousand seventeen such days already, including today. I’ve spent every single one of those days working to get him free.” She folds her hands over her heart. “Please reconsider. I’ll pay you what I can. I have some money. I’ll even help with legwork or whatever.” She gestures to the box on the floor, the one I’ve been curious about from the moment I saw her with it. “I’ve brought all my work with me. Please. I need your help.”

  She doesn’t look like she wants or needs anyone’s help, but here she is, standing in the middle of my dad’s office, demanding it. I switch my attention to Dad, who seems just as struck by her intensity as I am. I can see him wavering. But he can’t afford to take on another charity case.

  “He’s only twenty-three,” she says. “Maurice Battle sat in prison, convicted for a crime he didn’t commit, for thirty-nine years. He was nineteen when he went in and fifty-eight when he finally came out. I don’t want that for my brother. Please.”

  “I could help.” Both of their heads swivel in my direction. I didn’t realize I’d opened my mouth, but now that the words are out I’m not sorry I said them. “With your guidance,” I add lamely.

  Dad considers me for a moment. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s thinking that this might be the way he gets me to finally agree to take over the agency. He looks at Cora, who’s staring at me like I just ruined her moment, like she can’t believe what a dumbass I am. I can’t blame her. I am a dumbass. This is a stupid idea. I’ve just put the noose around my own neck. But I don’t really care about me right now.

  I look up into her face, into those electric-blue eyes, and I want to be her hero. I want to go through that box with her, follow leads, and do other investigative-type stuff. I want to find the clue that will set her brother free.

  “That could work,” Dad says. “I can offer Leo to you for the summer free of charge or you can come back in December and apply for our help then. What do you think, Ms. Hollis?”

  “Does he have any experience other than filing?”

  Ouch. But she’s not wrong. I have shit for experience, but I’ve been hanging around the agency since I was in diapers. Something had to have rubbed off, right?

  “He’s in training,” Dad hedges, and I want to thank him, but that would give everything away. “I have another appointment in”—he checks his watch—“twenty minutes and I need to finish making notes for my report to the client. We could meet tomorrow morning and go over your brother’s case. I can help Leo form a game plan. And we’ll go from there.”

  She’s glaring at me with those deep, penetrating eyes and I can’t tell if she loathes me or if she’s trying to resign herself to this strange turn of events. She’s won her battle, but it’s not the victory she wanted. I’m a pale imitation of my father. She knows it and I know it. What she doesn’t know is that I’ll work my ass off for her.

  Turning back to my dad, she nods once. “Okay. But I have a condition.”

  She’s not exactly in a place to put on conditions. So damn ballsy.

  “A condition?” Dad asks.

  “We work together. You train me while you train him.”

  My dad offers her his hand. “Deal.”

  Chapter 3

  Cora

  While I was in Nash’s office I calculated that I have just enough money to pay my rent, eat, and put gas in my car—if I’m careful—for about three months. It will take all of my savings, but I can do it. I’m taking a huge risk t
hat

  a) this guy Leo actually has had some training in private investigation.

  b) Mr. Nash will teach me enough that if at the end of the summer we haven’t been successful, then at least I’ll have learned something I can use to help Beau.

  c) we find some kind of lead that will eventually go somewhere.

  Those are big risks.

  And now here I am on a leave of absence from my job and about to put Beau’s life in the hands of the owner’s kid, who looks like one of those loser skater dudes who make just enough money to cover skate-park fees and buy new trucks for their board once in a while (if they can’t get their parents to buy them). I have to make sure his dad is as involved as possible and that he teaches me everything he knows before the summer is over and skater dude goes back to whatever it is he does the rest of the year.

  Balancing my box on my hip, I open the door to the office the second I hear the click of the door being unlocked. The box is damn heavy, but it holds everything I collected on Beau’s case, including a possible lead on a new witness. I accidentally bump that blond bitch who wouldn’t let me in to see Mr. Nash yesterday and she lets out a yelp. I guess she wasn’t expecting the door to open or else she wouldn’t have still been standing so close to it.

  “Sorry,” I say, as I close the door behind me. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  And then my gaze tracks to the reason she was so distracted. Leo’s standing near the file cabinet again, just the way he was the day before. It’s like Groundhog Day and I’m caught up all over again in whatever drama is playing out between Leo and the receptionist. The way she looks at him—a combination of lust and loathing—makes me want to laugh. Except I kind of know how she feels.

  Leo doesn’t ask me if I need help. Not that I’d take it. I’m very protective of my box. He just stands there like he’s posing for a camera or waiting for a bus, his gaze latched on to my chest like he’s seeing his first set of tits. I wonder for the millionth time if I’m doing the right thing here or if this is just a colossal waste of time.

  “Why are you here?” Blondie asks. Her hostility toward me is completely baseless. Skater dude can leer at me all day, for all I care. I’m here for my brother. End. Of. Story.

  Leo peels himself off the file cabinet and swaggers toward me. “We’re working together on a case.”

  Reception lady gives me the once-over, one side of her upper lip lifting like she smells something bad. “A charity case?”

  If I wasn’t holding this box…

  “Knock it off, Savannah. She’s a client…and also kind of a temporary employee.”

  Savannah’s as pretty as her name, even when she’s being a bitch toward me. She really needs to get over her whatever with Leo and move on to bigger and better things. Like a guy with a real job, a real haircut, and real aspirations.

  “I’m only here to help my brother,” I tell Savannah, trying to make it clear that I have no intention of horning in on her territory. “Mr. Nash has agreed to go over his case and train me to be a private investigator.”

  “Call me Ed.” Mr. Nash stands in the doorway of his office with a mug of coffee in his hand.

  I didn’t notice him. From the way Savannah immediately tries to look busy, I’m guessing she didn’t either. Leo looks like he couldn’t give a shit. Typical boss’s kid who gets everything handed to him.

  Mr. Nash (I just can’t call him Ed) waves me into the office next door to his. “Come on in and let’s get started. Leo…” He motions with his head for his son to follow.

  We all shuffle into an office with a conference table that’s too big for the room. Mr. Nash stands behind a chair and waits for me to put my box down and sit. What a gentleman. His son takes the seat across from me before my butt hits the chair. Since he clearly hasn’t learned any manners from his father, I hope to hell he’s at least learned something about private investigation.

  “Can I offer you some coffee?” Mr. Nash asks me.

  “No, thanks. I don’t drink coffee.”

  Leo looks at me like he can’t believe I’m for real. Whatever.

  Mr. Nash takes his seat. “Tell me about your brother’s case.”

  I reach into my box and pull out the binder where I’ve recorded the timeline of Cassandra’s murder. I have a page devoted to each witness; each of the cops who were involved, from the first responder to the detectives who arrested Beau; the prosecutors; the medical examiner…Anyone who was involved in the case is in my binder. I have copies of reports, news articles, blog posts, etc., in my box, but I’ll save those for when I come to them.

  I start the story, from the last time anyone saw Cassandra alive to Beau’s last appeal, pulling out my backup information and the expert reports as I come to them. By the time I’ve finished, I’ve nearly covered the table with paper and my box is empty.

  As I drop back into my seat, I take a long pull off the bottle of water Leo got for me about halfway through. I’m exhausted yet energized. My brother’s story has lit a fire in Mr. Nash’s eyes, and Leo—much to my surprise—has not only filled a notebook full of notes, he asked some really intelligent and relevant questions that I could tell also impressed his father. Maybe he’s not going to be as useless to me as I thought.

  “And your brother?” Leo asks. “Will he talk to us about the case?”

  “No. He’s…resigned to his fate.” I’m afraid to tell them that Beau’s given up. No, I’m terrified to admit it, because his defeatist attitude could be seen as an admission of guilt.

  Mr. Nash flips through my notebook to Cassandra’s page. He studies the profile I created on her. It’s not as complete as I’d like it to be. None of her friends or relatives were eager to talk to the sister of her accused murderer. I don’t blame them, but it’s made my work harder and I can’t help the tiny seed of resentment I have against them. Even with those omissions, my profile on Cassandra is pretty good. I had to think outside the box since I’d made the mistake of approaching her friends and family as myself instead of pretending I was a journalist or a kid doing a report for school or something. Learning that lesson early helped me create more rounded profiles for the other people connected to the case.

  Leo picks up the copy of the coroner’s report. It’s gruesome. The photos…the description of Cassandra’s wounds and what was done to her…horrific. I looked at it only once. Halfway through the photos I bolted to the bathroom to vomit. I got to know Cassandra pretty well during the time she and Beau dated. I liked her. I liked her a lot. Seeing her like that…I still have nightmares. She comes to me in dreams sometimes and she begs me to help her, begs me to make “him” stop hurting her. I wake up screaming, coated in sweat.

  “How did you get this?” Leo asks.

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I joke.

  That report was not easy to get. The San Diego coroner’s office has a brilliant firewall. But not as brilliant as my friend Jamie. I had to promise to do her hair for a whole year in order to get that file. She loves the way I cut her hair even though I’ve never taken a class and don’t have a license to do hair. Someday, when my brother’s free, I’ll go to beauty school. Until then, my little side haircuts and colors help to finance a lot of the work I do on Beau’s case.

  Leo’s eyebrows jump up on his forehead. “You’re a hacker?”

  “Not me,” I hedge. “I’ve managed to find ways in and around the system to get a lot of this.” I make a sweeping gesture, indicating all of the papers spread across the table. “I learned quite a bit about investigating in the last five years.”

  “Impressive,” Mr. Nash finally says.

  Up until now he’s been quiet, listening and jotting down notes. His compliment makes my cheeks burn and I stare at my hands in my lap. I don’t get many compliments. Not because I’m unworthy of them, but because the people who would give them—like my parents or Beau—are too caught up in their own grief and suffering to notice if I’ve done anything at all.

  “How
long have you been working on this?” Mr. Nash asks.

  “Pretty much since the day my brother was convicted.”

  “You believe that strongly in his innocence?”

  “Yes,” I say, my gaze rising to meet his. “He’s as innocent as I am. As innocent as you and your son. Beau loved Cassandra. They were getting back together when she was killed. That’s why his DNA was found on her body. He didn’t do this and I won’t give up until he’s freed.”

  “Okay,” he says with a nod, and some of the tension runs out of me. I finally have the help I need. I want to jump up and down and go to my brother and shake him into believing in himself again. Beau now has a champion in this middle-aged man with tired eyes, graying hair, and a jelly doughnut stain on his tie.

  “You’ve done a lot of the work for us,” Mr. Nash says. “Tell me about this witness that was never interviewed by the police.”

  I catch Leo watching me. He has this look on his face like he’s impressed. And I realize that he hasn’t so much as glanced at my tits since I took my notebook out and started turning its pages. Maybe he’s not the total-loser asshole I thought he was.

  “She was Cassandra’s downstairs neighbor at the time of the murder. She’s an elderly lady confined to a hospital bed for the past ten years.” I open my folder containing the photos I took of Cassandra’s apartment building and point to a lower window. “Anyone taking the stairs to Cassandra’s apartment would have to walk past her bedroom window. At the very least she can verify that my brother wasn’t there. A few years ago she moved and I haven’t been able to find her.”

  “She could be dead. I wonder why the police never questioned her.”

  “If she is there’s no record of a death certificate on file. There’s a note in one of the reports that the detectives made a couple of efforts to contact her, but were unsuccessful. She’s confined to a bed,” I scoff. “Where’s she going to go?”

  Mr. Nash nods. “Could be lazy police work. After all, they had your brother’s DNA and an eyewitness who saw him leaving Cassandra’s apartment. Why go out of their way to find another witness? Or there could’ve been a cover-up.”