The Intern(62)

He was there, staring back at her.



* * *



The sun shone in her eyes, and she sat up, momentarily stunned to find herself in the lumpy dorm-room bed, still clad in her finery from last night. The blinds were wide open. Memory hit. She jumped up to look out the window.

Wallace was gone. For now.

She checked her phone, surprised there was no text from Judge Conroy. Madison hadn’t returned to the town house last night, despite an agreement to meet up after the reception. She was supposed to report on delivering the messages, which would cue the judge to sign the order releasing Danny. Of course, Madison had failed to complete the second task. She hadn’t told Andrew Martin about the meeting in the alley. If Judge Conroy showed up, she would have waited there alone to no avail. Why hadn’t she texted to find out what went wrong? Maybe she assumed it was a disaster. That Madison got arrested. Or flipped. Or else, maybe she was really in league with Wallace, and he had already told her everything.

In the shower, she stood under the pounding water, quietly freaking out. A corrupt cop had followed her home last night. Whether or not he planned to attack her physically, he meant her harm. Andrew Martin confirmed that she was right to be afraid. Could she turn to the feds for help, ask to be placed in witness protection or something? But they wouldn’t help her unless she had valuable evidence to offer, and how much did she know, really? That Judge Conroy and Detective Wallace were on a first-name basis? Big deal. That the judge tipped off Douglas Kessler to the investigation last night? Better, but she’d have to out herself as the go-between. She’d have criminal exposure of her own. They’d be just as likely to arrest her as protect her.

It was the final Securities Reg class of the term, and she should’ve been paying close attention. Instead, she was distracted to the point of near-hysteria. Chloe was a no-show, which felt like a bad omen. She replayed in her head over and over that sick moment when Doug Kessler threatened her last night. She wanted to scream at Judge Conroy. I did what you asked and what did I get? Kessler threatened me. Martin knew who I was. I risked jail for you. Now pay up. Release my brother, or I’ll tell the feds everything. She was a law student, not a thug, but lately she didn’t recognize herself. Passing secret messages, getting followed by the police. Why not extortion? It was just one more step in this brave new world.

She’d confront the judge that afternoon, at the internship.

But when she got to chambers, Imani told her the judge had not come in that day.

“Where is she?” Madison said.

“I don’t know. Sean and I showed up as usual this morning, and chambers was dark. No judge, no Kelsey. No explanation. Just a note on my desk from Nancy saying court was canceled. Sean went home, but I’ve been here all day catching up on paperwork.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“It’s kind of worrisome. Do you think she’s okay?”

“That’s not a subject I’m comfortable speculating about. Not here,” Imani said, turning back to her computer.

Unease settled in Madison’s chest as she considered why the judge might be absent. Not illness. More likely, arrest. Or fleeing the jurisdiction. Or, God forbid, kidnapping, or worse. And what did Imani mean, that she wouldn’t speculate here? They were alone in chambers. Did she think the place was bugged?

The afternoon crawled by, punctuated by the clacking of keyboards. At five, Imani shut down her computer.

“Well, I think I’ll head out.”

“Me too,” Madison said.

She wished she could get Imani talking. Whatever the law clerk knew, she wasn’t comfortable spilling here.

“Would you like to grab a drink? I’ve been dying to try that new martini bar. My treat.”

“Really? I heard that place is pricey.”

“It’s fine. I picked up a second job.”

“No kidding. Doing what?”

“Um, kind of like a personal assistant thing.”

“Is that wise with your workload?”

“I got tired of being broke.”

“I feel you. I remember those days.”

“I just got paid, and it’s burning a hole in my pocket. So let’s go.”

It was already dark, and the night air was frigid. They walked the few blocks to the bar, which was just past the T stop, talking about clothes and the weather. Imani hated winter and was planning to go back to Atlanta after the clerkship to work at a law firm.

“That day can’t come fast enough,” she said.

“That doesn’t sound like it’s about the weather. Are you unhappy with the clerkship?”

“Let’s have a drink first.”

The bar was jam-packed with lawyers and other people from the courthouse. Nobody wore ties anymore except in court, but this was still Boston, and there were a lot of conservative dark suits. They pushed their way up to the bar, where blue light shone out from shelves lined with crystal decanters, making it feel like the inside of an aquarium. A couple of thirtysomething guys gave up their seats to them and tried to buy them drinks. They shut them down and ordered Vespers, along with a cone of frites to share. The prices were hair-raising, but the martinis lived up to the hype, ice-cold with the whoosh of rocket fuel. Madison’s tolerance for alcohol was not the greatest, so she sipped carefully. Imani was not so cautious, and her eyes quickly took on a cocktail glaze. Time to start digging.