But then, what was Ty talking about?
“What kind of cloud?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve just heard rumblings.”
“Rumblings. Seriously? If you know something, spill it, or else don’t badmouth people.”
“I’m just worried you’re overly impressed with her. You hang on her words in class like she’s this fountain of wisdom.”
“She’s a renowned federal judge. An amazing teacher. So yeah, I’m impressed. Nothing you said changes my mind.”
“It’s not a good place to work, that’s all.” He started ticking off the problems on his fingers. “They’re strict with deadlines. It’s a heavy case load. They want a lot of hours. And the last intern left on bad terms. They actually fired her. Imagine that happening to you.”
“You just described every judicial internship that exists.”
“Who fires an intern?”
“Maybe she did a poor job. I’m not worried. I plan to kick ass.”
Earlier, Madison had been thinking of withdrawing her application because of the complication with Danny. Count on Ty to rile up her killer instinct. His opposition made her want the internship even more.
“The last intern probably thought that, too.”
“You know what I wonder, Ty? I wonder if you’re planning to apply for the position, and you don’t want the competition.”
“I said I’m not.”
“Can you blame me if I’m skeptical? Everything’s a move with you.”
That had been a problem between them. He had a bad habit of fighting dirty when it came to getting ahead, like a lot of people at Harvard. He also came from a gilded background. Maybe not as much as Chloe, but his father was a prominent African American surgeon, his mother a high school principal, and they had a high profile in their hometown. Someone like Ty could never understand where Madison was coming from or some of the things she had to do to get ahead. He’d never struggled.
“Look who’s talking,” he said.
“You still don’t get me, do you?”
“I could say the same.”
The drinks came. She took out her wallet, but he waved it away.
“I’m paying,” she insisted, handing over her debit card. “Happy birthday, this is your present.”
“What about the crazy stuff in her past? Assassination attempts? Violence? Did you know her husband was murdered?”
“Yeah, I know all about her.”
Madison had Judge Conroy’s résumé practically memorized. Top of the class from Harvard Law. A prestigious clerkship. Ten years in the U.S. Attorney’s Office where she prosecuted high-profile cases before getting appointed to the bench as one of the youngest federal judges in the country. It was true that the judge had faced down terrible tragedy, but she carried on. How could you not admire that?
“Right, she went to your high school. I remember you saying that. No wonder you stick up for her. It’s the old girls’ network, huh?”
“No, I just don’t like to hear a good woman slandered.”
“Slander? That’s harsh.”
“Her husband was murdered, and you’re implying it was her fault.”
“I’m concerned that the murder had to do with her cases. Not that she killed him or anything.”
“I thought it was random. But even if it was because of her work, the way she soldiered on, doing what she believed in, just makes me admire her more. So, sorry. I’m still your competition.”
He snorted. “You’re impossible. Just remember, I tried to warn you.”
She pushed both cocktails toward him. “Chloe’s giving us the stink eye. Here, tell her I bought her a drink. I have to work on the internship application anyway, so I’m gonna split. Enjoy your party. Happy birthday.”
And she planted a kiss on his cheek.
Ty always managed to get under her skin. On the walk back to the dorm, she couldn’t stop his warning from rattling around in her head. She had to bone up on the judge to prepare for the interview tomorrow anyway. Why not look up her husband’s death? It had happened after Madison left Catholic Prep, during her freshman year of college when she was busy and distracted. She’d followed the story in the news because of her interest in the judge. But maybe she’d missed something.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open, she googled “Judge Conroy husband murder,” and it came right up. Matthew Latham, age thirty-eight, a teacher at St. Alfred’s Country Day School, had been gunned down “execution style” while unloading groceries in front of the home he shared with his wife, Judge Kathryn Conroy, in Wellesley, Massachusetts. A neighbor heard three shots, looked out the window, and saw a dark-colored SUV speed away, but didn’t get the plate number. There was no description of the shooter. The investigators looked for links to the judge’s cases. But they never found the killer, so the motive was pure speculation. That was five years ago. The murder was still unsolved.