Her Best Defense

Epilogue

Prologue

Sixteen years ago

Chicago, Illinois

The alley was dark, lit only by lone streetlights at either end. At best, those lights illuminated no more then a few feet of the alley, casting shadows that bespoke of hidden, unspeakable things. The middle of the alley looked as if it had been swallowed by the night, and his stomach churned with dread. Was blackness and an eerie silence the reason that this particular place had been chosen for the meeting?

He looked around before entering the alleyway. The buildings on either side appeared to be deserted.

Again, not a good sign.

But it wasn’t just the lack of light that was unnerving; the lack of sound was equally as injurious to his normal courage. No cars passed by, no voices could be heard, no music wafting through windows. The only sounds now were those of his shoes softly shuffling against the pavement and a lone dog barking somewhere off in the distance.

“That’s far enough,” he heard from out of the darkness.

“Step out so I can see you,” he addressed the shadows.

“You don’t need to see anything.”

But he did see something. A glint of light, a flash of sorts, but all too late. He felt the bullets entering his body at the same time he heard the shots. Everything went black.

“You shot him! What the hell did you do that for? I thought we were only going to talk to him.”

“Shut up and get over there. Make sure he’s dead.”

“Hey, I want nothing to do with this.”

“Johnny, go make sure he’s dead while I have a little talk with Paulie here.”

“Sure, boss.”

The barrel of the gun jammed into his guts. For a few seconds, Paulie thought he was going to be next. Out of instinct, he grabbed at the gun; at the same time, he felt his boss releasing the weapon into his possession.

“Now you got something to do with this.”

Paulie knew he’d just been framed for murder. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“Get rid of the gun, stupid. Unless you want to go to prison.”

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Johnny hollered back.

“Good, now let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 1

Present day

Lisa Jensen entered The Pub at 6:15 p.m. Polished wood and brass, indirect lighting, unobtrusive background music and friendly service made The Pub the perfect place to relax after a long and strenuous day of work. Lisa had stopped briefly to deposit files in her office at the law firm of Bonner, Drake, Ludlow and Kirten, a mid-sized firm in the heart of Chicago’s famed Loop with a reputation for successful litigation and criminal defense. It occupied the sixteenth and seventeenth floors of the Ridge Building, a gray, quarried rock structure just minutes away from the courthouse as well as most of the other city offices. Lisa had always felt that the original partners had chosen their place of business perfectly when they’d selected this site thirty years ago.

“Especially this part of the operation,” Lisa said as she spotted her friends and began walking toward the group. The Pub was located on the first floor of the Ridge Building and on Wednesday nights Lisa met—whenever she could make it—with others from work for a drink and some good conversation.

The place was busy so she had to wind her way through several other groups to get to hers. She knew many of the people she passed or bumped into along the way. Most were also attorneys, housed, as she was, in upper level offices.

She heard “Hey, Lisa!” coming from several different directions, but it wasn’t until she was within a few feet of her friends that they spotted her. And when she did get close, she almost wished she had bypassed The Pub that night. Everyone there from her firm stood and clapped, whistled and cheered as she approached.

“Will you guys stop?” she said as she looked around and saw that practically everyone else in The Pub had put their drinks down to grin and gawk at what was going on in the far corner.

“Hey, golden girl,” Larry called out. “What are you drinking tonight? The first one’s on me.”

“And you stop with that golden girl nonsense,” Lisa shot back good-naturedly.

“I don’t know, Lisa,” Darren McCaffery, another junior associate said, “I think Larry might have something there. What is this? Your twelfth straight win?”

“Actually, it’s my thirteenth. But who’s counting,” she said with a teasing grin.

A space was opened for Lisa at the two tables the group had joined together, and before she could say Jack Frost, an icy cold beer was set in front of her.

“You know, winning thirteen consecutive cases is an accomplishment to be proud of,” Pamela said as Lisa took her first sip. “And if you consider the type of cases Ludlow has given you lately, you really are the firm’s golden girl.”

“Come on, Pam, not you, too. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I wonder if we’ll still be friends when you’re moved upstairs,” Pamela commented.

“Oh, please!” Lisa said, nearly spilling her beer. “You know me better than that. Besides, I don’t think I’ll be moving anywhere in the near future.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Madeline chimed in.

Madeline was the sixteenth-floor receptionist and crucial to everyone on the floor. It wasn’t just her expertise with the complicated telephone system or the way she handled visitors and clients that had her held in such high esteem by her co-workers. What made Madeline special was her knowledge of everything that went on in the firm. Some said it was because of a long-term affair she was supposedly having with one of the firm’s senior partners, Philip Bonner. Others speculated that it was simply because she had been there for so many years. Whatever the case, Lisa was glad she could call the woman a friend.

“You heard it here first,” Pamela said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Lisa replied, making light of a subject dear to her heart.

Moving upstairs would mean a huge promotion and it was, of course, what every associate was working toward. Moving upstairs meant a junior partnership and that was something that wasn’t offered very often or taken lightly. Lisa felt her heart picking up its pace just from thinking about such a move.

“Hey, Lisa,” Larry called from the other end of the two tables, “tell us about court today.”

Lisa shook her head. Larry Lutz was the firm’s researcher and another valuable asset. He loved to tease her about her success because he knew she was never the type to brag, like the other lawyers they all knew.

“We can certainly find something more interesting than that to talk about,” she called back with her face screwed up in a comical expression that made the others laugh.

Then she unconsciously pushed her shoulder-length blond hair behind her left ear, and was completely unaware of how one particular light fixture beamed directly on her and turned her hair color to gleaming gold. She was a pretty woman, twenty-eight years of age, with dark eyes and beautifully shaped lips. She was five feet six inches tall and weighed in at 120. She loved high heels and extravagant shoes, and would willingly spend much more on a pair of elegant designer shoes than on one of the business suits she favored for work.

A round of jokes began, with everyone getting in on the fun. The group was laughing and cutting up when someone tapped Lisa on the shoulder. She glanced up and saw Grant Gowan, a handsome young attorney with one of the other law firms in the building. Grant was smiling down at her, his light brown eyes sparkling.

“You’re all having entirely too much fun over here,” he said and heard a round of good-natured boos in response. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I really came over to speak to Lisa.” He put a hand on the table and leaned toward her. “Do you mind?”