“You have no doubt Cecelia was capable of this sort of thing?” Finley was surprised the woman would throw her sister under the bus so early in the game.
“None at all.”
“Like you,” Jack challenged, “Cecelia says she never met him. Didn’t know him.”
“There’s something you should know about my sister, Mr. Finnegan.”
“What would that be?” he asked.
“She lies. All the time. About everything.”
8
1:00 p.m.
Finnegan Law Firm
Tenth Avenue
Nashville
Finley spread the pages across the picnic table, then placed borrowed mugs from the break room on the stacks. She dropped the printer-paper box on the grass and propped her elbows on the table to survey the first pages of each stack. This was how she spent her lunch whenever she was at the office—weather permitting, of course.
Being outside—alone—cleared her head, allowed her to concentrate.
Not that eating was on her mind. It was the case. Always the case. She flipped open her spiral and scanned the notes she’d made on the interviews of the Legard family. Jack was catching up on calls and kissing up to Nita to make amends. He was still keeping mum about his former relationship with Sophia Legard. They’d barely dug into this case, and already there was enough conflict of interest to gracefully bow out. Finley had a feeling that was not going to happen.
In the parking lot behind her a car door closed, drawing her gaze there.
“I figured I’d find you here,” Matt called out as he walked toward her, a white lunch-size box in each hand.
“My fav work spot.” She reorganized her stacks to make room for him and the boxes she recognized from the Hole in the Wall deli over on Main. Her stomach rumbled, warning that she was hungry whether she bothered to acknowledge it or not. She should have taken Jack up on his offer to buy her lunch after the meeting with Olivia. But she hadn’t wanted to eat. She’d wanted to dissect the conversation.
Matt settled on the opposite side of the picnic table and started removing butcher paper–wrapped goodies from the boxes. “Since we missed dinner together last night, I decided I’d surprise you with lunch.”
Oh yeah. He definitely had something on his mind. Something he really didn’t want to tell her but had no choice. Something outside the boundaries of their friendship.
“How do you know I didn’t already have lunch?” she countered. She’d known him her whole life. He was many things, but he was not psychic.
“I called Nita and asked her.”
She grinned. Nope, Matt wasn’t psychic, but he was very good at finding the answers he needed.
“So who did I piss off this time?” Probably the mayor. Or the chief of police. She may have mentioned something to a reporter about needing better police presence in light of the attempted robbery and shooting at the convenience store. “If it’s the chief, he can get over it. I have a constitutional right to my opinion.”
“Eat,” he ordered. “Then we’ll talk.”
If they hadn’t practically grown up as brother and sister, she would have told him to bug off. But they had, and Matt was a good friend. He’d visited her every week in rehab, on both occasions—the physical one and the mental one as well. Besides, he was also an excellent source of information for her. Good sources were scarce.
So, she ate. Turkey and swiss on wheat with mayo and tomato, just the way she liked it. And sweet iced tea. A slight breeze fluttered the pages of her stacks. The picnic tables sat beneath big old trees with wide canopies for shade. She imagined many church picnics had been held beneath these trees on hot summer days like this one. Being stuck inside four walls had always been a sore spot for her. She’d hated her windowless office downtown. At least her office here had a window. Still, outside was better.
Matt finished off his sandwich and wadded the paper. “You’re working on the Legard case.”
The word was out, was it? She shouldn’t be surprised the unholy trinity would be paying close attention to this one. The Legard case would make the national news. Preserving Nashville’s reputation would be of singular importance to the city’s most powerful threesome.
“I am. Jack is representing the family.”
“Briggs is concerned that this one—being inordinately high profile—might be a problem. He’s worried that if your history is brought into media focus, it could jeopardize the case.”
The direct hit from the Davidson County district attorney Arthur Briggs, her former boss, wasn’t easy to swallow. But Finley sipped her tea, then placed the paper cup carefully on the table before responding.