Sweet Justice

A few minutes later, the downtown section of Waverly came into view, with its three-layer-cake of a courthouse, complete with a frilly little cupola that held a clock tower. He made the block around the town center and continued along the main road lined with recently rebuilt mom-and-pop style shops, past his future sister-in-law Kari’s bakery and Mr. Hiram Sullivan’s jewelry store. The pocket park’s interactive fountain was off, drained of water to protect it against the unusual deep freeze they’d had the past few nights, and, save for a few brave pansies that had weathered the cold, the space looked flat and empty against the crisp January blue sky.

Andrew turned his truck out of the more picturesque downtown area to some newer government buildings that had been built in the 1970s. They were squat and ugly and, to Andrew, like most folks in Waverly, a crime against architecture. He scanned the parking lot in front of the tallest one, a three-story brown brick that still managed to look short.

Yep, Dutch’s motorcycle was parked in his usual slot. How a guy as smart as Dutch could ride a motorcycle to work on a day as cold as this boggled the mind. Andrew slammed the truck door and hurried into the warmth of the building.

Dutch’s assistant waved him on in, a testament more to the fact that she knew they were buddies outside the office than to him being available. The two of them had played travel ball together for years in the youth and high school leagues, before Dutch had parlayed his considerable talent at batting into a baseball scholarship.

“Hey, Monroe!” Dutch flashed their old sign for a fastball as Andrew came through his office door. It had been Dutch, a catcher a couple of years older than him, who’d made Andrew a better pitcher than he should have been. “What’s hanging? You here about the county-city softball tourney? I’m in, man. I am definitely ready for ball.”

“With Daniel on the team, I’ll probably be warming the bench. He’s still got some life in that arm of his.”

“That old dog?” Dutch grinned. “You can take him. I’ve caught for both of you, and sure, he was good when he was young, but he’s nearly forty now.”

Thirty-eight or not, Andrew’s older brother, Daniel, was probably better at pitching than Andrew would ever be. After all, Daniel had given up a good shot at the major leagues to come back and follow in their dad’s footsteps when their dad, the fire chief, was killed in an arson fire years before. Now Daniel was the chief.

Andrew didn’t waste time arguing baseball. He dropped down into the stackable office chair that was de rigueur for most of the county offices. “I had something else I wanted to know. Have you heard about any lawsuits against the department? Or the county?”

Dutch’s easy smile faded. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. “What kind of lawsuits?”

This was the part of Dutch that Andrew didn’t know as well, the lawyer side. Already Andrew could see his friend running the angles. Something about law school had turned Dutch into a more calculating guy than Andrew had known as a kid. Or maybe that cynicism had always been there and law school had brought it out.

“Um, well, you remember that big fire in October? The one where the girl got burned?”

“Yeah. The one where you went all cowboy and went back in without being checked out. Believe you me, I reamed out Daniel and the captain on the scene that day. Could have been a nightmare worker’s-comp claim if you’d gotten hurt. But you’re not suing, are you? Nah, didn’t think so. Lemme see, the house was a total loss and the landlord was livid beyond belief. He’s not suing us, either. Not that I know of.”

“What about the girl? Katelyn Blair?”

“I don’t know of any lawsuit that’s come down the pike from that. No records have been requested, and they’d better have let me know if any ambulance chasers have been sniffing around. Why?” Dutch sat up and drilled him with the same intensity he’d had during their state championship game, when Andrew had a runner on second and had allowed a walk to first.

If Dutch hadn’t heard of any lawsuit... But Mallory had said, “You know about the lawsuit, don’t you?”

Andrew started outlining the situation, realizing when he had to backtrack several times to get to the real beginning that it was more complicated than he had admitted to himself. Dutch held up a hand.

“Whoa. Let me call Daniel.” Dutch hit a speed dial on his phone and propped himself up on the desk, his elbow planted firmly on a pile of manila folders.

Andrew couldn’t forestall a groan. He hated having his big brother dragged into this, because Daniel would go all boss man on him, not just boss man in the fire-chief sense but boss man as self-appointed head of the family.

Sure enough, Daniel was glowering when he came through the door a few minutes later. He moved a box of files from another chair in the office and plopped the chair down alongside Andrew’s.

“Now, what’s the five-alarm emergency that I had to zip over here for?” he asked Andrew. “Especially when you could have told me whatever it was at supper last night.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me— Dutch thought—”

“Dutch knew he needed to get the facts,” Dutch interrupted. “And I wanted to hear Daniel’s input. So. Proceed.” Their friend leaned back, his expression as intent and calculating as before.

Andrew began again. The false starts had given him some rehearsal and he managed to get the story told in a more efficient, concise way. He held his breath as he waited for Daniel’s reaction.

“You don’t know of any lawsuit?” Daniel asked Dutch. “Nothing’s been filed?”

Dutch shook his head. “Zip. I take it you didn’t know about Andrew’s big idea here to have a potential plaintiff do therapy at your sister’s place?”

“Hey!” Andrew sat forward. “I had no idea that sister of hers was planning on suing! I was trying to help Katelyn. What? Am I supposed to say, ‘Uh, no, you might sue us so you can’t even think about having Maegan do your therapy?’ That doesn’t make a dab of sense.”

“He’s got a point,” Daniel said. “I mean, it’s a cock-eyed situation now, but at the time, he was— Well, heck, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he had mentioned it to me. Maegan’s excellent at what she does, and I would have felt it unethical to recommend someone else when they would have been my second choice. Besides. Maybe this Mallory Blair won’t sue.”

Dutch held up a finger. “Ah, but that’s why I’m the county’s in-house counsel, because unlike so many, I operate from the standpoint of defensive pessimism. She has mentioned the possibility of a lawsuit as if it were a done deal—ergo, there is a lawsuit. And that means complications. Maegan could be called to testify against the county—against your department, Daniel, and against you and Eric in particular, Andrew. My legal recommendation? If I were you, I’d suggest that this might prove to be a conflict of interest and you should help her find another rehab facility.”

Andrew swore inwardly at the thought that he’d dragged Maegan in the middle of this mess with Mallory Blair. If the woman were the litigious sort, she’d as likely sue Happy Acres as she would the county.

The idea of cutting Katelyn loose rankled him. And it wasn’t only Katelyn’s enthusiastic response this morning to seeing Happy Acres for the first time. No, he thought back to the night he’d first met Mallory, to the single tear that had trickled down her cheek when she’d confessed that she had no family.

The two girls were alone. Mallory had lost her dad, just like Andrew had, but she hadn’t had a family like he’d been blessed with to help her through it. Mallory Blair couldn’t be all bad—a tad obsessed with money and appearance, maybe, but Katelyn had told him that her big sister had raised her, and Katelyn had turned out okay, right?

Katelyn...who wouldn’t have been so badly injured if he’d only called it in a half minute sooner.

He pushed the thought away. “No. I’m not going to ask Maegan to do that. Katelyn doesn’t deserve that—she deserves the best possible treatment, and Daniel’s right— she’ll get it here. If she’s got any shot at all at walking again, it’s going to be with Maegan. And you know, Daniel’s right about another thing. I’ll bet all Mallory wants is for her sister to be happy and healthy, and once she sees what all Maegan can do, the idea of a lawsuit will fade.”

Dutch rolled his eyes. “Such Pollyanna attitudes. Whistle right by that churchyard, why don’t you? Daniel? You want to set your little brother straight?”

Daniel scratched his chin and stretched out his long legs. His poker face was much better than Andrew’s had ever been, and for a long moment, Andrew waited for his decision. “I can see your point, Dutch. It will be a mess if she does sue. Plus, you’ve got more experience with these things than either of us. Maybe being a lawyer means you’re like a hammer. Everything you see, well, it’s gotta be a nail.”

Dutch shrugged. “Even a broken watch is right twice a day.”

Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “In that analogy, are you the broken watch or are we?” He didn’t wait for Dutch. “I think we can thread the needle here with a little watchful waiting. You keep your ear to the ground for any signs of a lawsuit, and maybe check out the well-heeled Ms. Blair for any past litigation. And meanwhile, we can let Maegan do what she does best—make patients better. Besides, if it did come to a lawsuit, we did everything by the book that day. We followed protocol, and my guys—even my little squirt of a brother here—were bona fide heroes, and they have the commendations to prove it.” Daniel rose to his feet and clapped a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Bottom line is, Mallory Blair wouldn’t have a sister at all if it hadn’t been for Andrew.”

Unexpected pleasure rushed through Andrew at Daniel’s rare compliment. The city had indeed awarded Eric, Chase Jackson and Andrew commendations for bravery following the fire. At the time, it had kind of embarrassed Andrew, and he figured it was mostly because Eric had been hurt, and he and Jackson had only managed to get Katelyn out.

Daniel’s praise? That meant something—something that helped take the sting out of any accusing glare Mallory Blair might shoot his way.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_0677fb99-879a-5bad-a608-4aaf5958bdff)

FRANTICALLY MALLORY DUG through yet another box. Nope, no pots and pans, even though it was labeled clearly with the word Kitchen scrawled in her hand. She must have mixed it up with this box of sheets and towels in her hurry to get everything out the door before the landlord charged her another month’s rent.

“I’d help you if I could—” Katelyn grunted with effort as she tried to shove another stack of cartons over to maneuver her wheelchair through the clutter of moving boxes.

At the sound, Mallory stopped and looked up. “Don’t! You’ll knock those over and hurt yourself!”

“Mal...” Katelyn sighed. “Forget it. Let’s order a five-dollar pizza. I saw a take-out place as we drove through town. Just tonight, can we please, please, please not scrimp?”

For a moment, Mallory was so tempted. She, too, had seen the pizza place, and the last tenants had thoughtfully left a fridge magnet with the number on it. There was the phone... One call, and someone would be winging his way over with a hot, cheesy pizza that Mallory didn’t have to lift a finger to get.

Reality came crashing down. “Katelyn... I don’t have five dollars.” The confession humiliated her.

“What? C’mon. We’re not that broke. Are we?” Surprise and disbelief flooded Katelyn’s eyes...and when Mallory didn’t deny it, alarm quickly followed. “Are we?” she insisted.

“Yeah. We are. I’m between jobs, sweetie. I won’t get paid for another two weeks, and I had to use our savings for the first and last months’ deposit.”

“Well...what about your slush fund?”