The salad in front of him was half gone. Most of the important emails on his phone were read. Dr. Farell had managed to escape any random conversation and eat lunch in peace as he waited for Andrea. He hated being bothered by trivial conversations from colleagues, but he also hated when people were late. This wasn’t a business meeting, but it was still a scheduled time to get together.
He spotted Andrea the moment she stepped out of the serving area and into the cafeteria full of tables and chairs. She was tall, and seemed even taller in high heels. She wore a dark blue business suit that was the perfect complement to her golden hair. Dr. Farell admired her as she approached even though he still gave her an annoyed look.
“You’re late,” he said as she placed her tray down and then sat across from him.
“New client,” she said without an apology. “The wife of an accident victim.”
“Ambulance chasing?” he joked. “That’s not your style.”
Andrea took out the plastic fork in the clear bag and then began to mix her salad. She looked wired today, her face focused and her actions busy.
“It is when the victim is forcibly converted to Christianity while he’s trapped, dying, with his wife restrained out of earshot by the police.”
She took a quick bite and nodded at his surprised reaction.
“Picture this: a Bible-thumping paramedic has poor Steven Carson as his captive audience, painting him pictures of hellfire and damnation in his final moments. Horrible, right? To say nothing of the psychological pain and suffering to Mrs. Carson. Her last memory of her husband forever tainted by the thought of him being strong-armed to renounce his own worldview.”
Andrea looked like an animal eyeing its prey in the middle of the field, ready to devour. He liked that about her. On the outside, she looked so pristine and proper, but inside she was a predator. It was one big reason she was great in her job.
“Maybe he already believed and nobody knew,” he said, playing devil’s advocate.
Andrea shook her head and finished the bite of her salad. “Both were members of the American Humanist Association. Their motto is ‘Good without a God.’ ”
She appeared amused by this, the sparks in her eyes.
“Still, won’t it be her word against his?”
“That’s the best part. These Christian types? You swear them in—have them put their hand on the Bible—and what do they do? They actually tell the truth. Plus the ACLU’s already promising to draft an amicus brief. They see this as a watershed case for misuse of authority.”
Dr. Farell was impressed. And this wasn’t an easy thing to do.
“Sounds like fait accompli,” he told her.
She agreed, her animated and sweet face looking in direct contrast to the snarl on her lips.
“Nothing wrong with a witch hunt,” she said. “As long as you’re after the right witch.”