James paced the length of the expansive, windowed Kroll Atrium, waiting for Professor Lin. He had been surprised enough when Isobel called to tell him he could turn the list of names over to Lin after all, but completely thrown for a loop when she told him what had happened on her first day of grand jury.
“You know me,” she had said, sitting across from him in the diner near John Jay. “Things always happen to me on my first day on the job.”
“Not always. Thank God,” he had replied.
“The point is, the ADA is moving forward. With Percival’s information, she was able to get a warrant for the camp’s records and Rivington Properties’ accounts. They think they can shut the camp down, although I don’t know yet what happens to the kids who are there and whether they’ll get new trials. They should.”
James’s hand tightened around his orange juice glass. “Maybe being a defense attorney is a total waste of time. If this is the kind of shit that goes on—if this is how justice is served—then I don’t want any part of it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Isobel leaned over and took his other hand, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw more there than just reassurance. “You are needed, James. Truly.”
“Peter tried to do the right thing, and he almost got locked up for murder.”
“But he never gave up.”
“It’s too late for a lot of kids.”
“But maybe this will be a deterrent from it happening again. You have to hope the authorities will stay on top of this kind of thing.”
“Fat chance,” James scowled. “It takes a lot to bring down a judge.”
Isobel looked down at her half-eaten grilled cheese. “They’ve got Gordon Lang and Mason Crawford in custody. Jack is going to testify against them in exchange for a reduced sentence.”
“So he pleaded guilty?”
“They found gun residue in the sax case. Just like I told them they would.”
“What about Angelina Rivington?”
“Apparently, Andrew told Jack what he knew about the ownership of the prison. Jack talked Angelina into meeting him on the jetty, and he strangled her. They found his DNA on her body. I’m sure Gordon Lang was next on the list. And, of course, Jack admitted to sending the threatening letter and posting as Andrew on that web forum.”
“Look, I’m really sorry I took your head off about the list,” James said. “I just felt trapped.”
Isobel toyed with her watch. “We both were. We were forced to make conflicting promises. We didn’t intentionally set out to stonewall each other.”
“For once.”
“For once. So…friends?”
He’d had a brief flashback to the one time he had kissed her, and he felt his thighs shimmer with sudden heat. He took a sip of water and let the cold bring him back to the present. There was no use dwelling on what might have been.
“Yeah, friends.”
“James?”
He looked up to see Professor Lin approaching him. He quickly banished all thoughts of Isobel and tried to arrange his features into their most professional and detached expression.
“Dean Hart isn’t with you?” he asked.
“He’s in a meeting. You said you had something?” He handed her a manila envelope, and her face relaxed with warmth and relief. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means.”
“It took some serious cooperation on Catanzaro’s part to give you this list, but now that the DA’s office has proof of the money trail, they need whatever you’ve got.”
“We’ll cooperate.” She placed a hand on his arm. “James, this is so important. If we can figure out how the scam worked, we can start investigating similar situations that have aroused our suspicions.”
“There are others?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But you’ve really given us a leg up. Dean Hart will be very pleased and impressed. I’m sure he’ll line up something good for you.”
James shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, about that. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Professor Lin frowned. “What?”
“I don’t want special treatment.”
“It’s not special treatment,” she said. “It’s simply a return favor. You’re entering a competitive field. You can do it the easy way or the hard way.”
“With all due respect, I’d rather do it the right way.” He picked up his backpack from where he’d set it at his feet and left her staring after him.
“This is Isobel Spice,” the casting director announced. He turned to Isobel and introduced the man and woman behind the table. “Felicity Hamilton, artistic director of Livingston Stage Company, and Ezra Bernard, director of the Sousa Project.”
Isobel flashed them her brightest smile, but her step faltered as she strode across the room to the piano. Pimply, smarmy Kevin Rabinowitz sat at the keyboard, practically salivating at the sight of her. But his expression changed to one of irritation a moment later, when Hugh came up behind her.
“Hello, Kevin. I’m playing for Isobel.”
With a barely disguised sneer, Kevin stood up. “I could use a break. Non-Equity auditions aren’t exactly overflowing with talent.” He shot this last remark in Isobel’s direction.
“Ignore him,” Hugh whispered as Kevin flounced out of the room. “I’ve got you.”
Isobel smiled gratefully and walked to the center of the floor. “I’d like to sing ‘Love is a Plaintive Song’ from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience.”
“A perfect choice,” Ezra commented. “Sousa was a great admirer of Sullivan.”
Heartened by this validation, Isobel launched into her song with renewed confidence. She tried to focus on connecting to the words and letting her voice soar on pure emotion and intent. Just having Hugh there made all the difference. She felt his support in every phrase, and for the first time since she’d moved to New York, she lost sight of the fact that she was being evaluated and simply performed. When she finished, she found she barely remembered what she’d done.
“That was lovely,” Ezra said. “Can you come back tomorrow afternoon at three for a callback?”
“Yes, of course,” Isobel answered, careful not to succumb to the volcano of excitement erupting inside her.
“Great. We’ll see you then.”
“Just a moment.” Felicity inclined her head toward Hugh. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Hugh Fremont.”
“Do you have a card? We just lost our musical director, and I was quite impressed with your playing. Very sensitive to the singer. I can’t say the same for the other guy.”
The casting director bristled. “Kevin? He’s one of the best. I brought him in today so you’d consider him for the job.”
Felicity responded with a noncommittal “hmmm.”
Hugh gave Isobel’s arm a tiny pinch as he passed by her to hand Felicity his card.
“Composer/pianist/conductor,” Felicity read. “If you’re interested in the job and free tomorrow, come sit in on callbacks and we can talk more.”
“I’m definitely interested,” Hugh said.
“Then we’ll see you both tomorrow.” Felicity dismissed them with a nod.
Isobel could barely contain her excitement as she and Hugh returned to the piano to collect her music.
“Just wait,” he warned quietly.
But as soon as they were in the hall, she threw her arms around him. “Oh, my God! I love you!”
His face lit up. “I love you, too.”
Isobel realized he had misconstrued her show of enthusiastic appreciation as an actual romantic declaration, but she brushed aside her qualms as they kissed.
An overexaggerated cough prompted them to pull apart.
“Went well, did it?” Kevin asked.
“You might say that,” Hugh replied lightly.
Kevin pursed his lips in disapproval and reentered the studio, letting the door give an attitude-fueled slam behind him.
“How come you didn’t tell him what happened?” asked Isobel.
“Oh, he’ll figure it out when he sees me sitting behind the table at callbacks tomorrow. Revenge is sweeter by stealth.”
Isobel slid her arm through Hugh’s. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
He pulled her close. “Neither can I.”
# # #
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