Look Closely (14 page)

I glanced at Evan Lamey sitting at the opposing counsel’s table. He shook his head, and I did the same. This was it. The excited tickle in my stomach grew.

The lead arbitrator opened a folder and read, “In the matter of Kingston Marketing Company versus McKnight Corporation, we find in favor of the plaintiff, Kingston Marketing, and award the sum of five-hundred-thousand dol ars.”

I let my breath ease out of my lungs, disappointed but not entirely unhappy. I had lost, just as I suspected, but the award was much lower than Kingston had asked for. In Lamey’s closing argument, he’d asserted that the company had lost mil ions because of the copyright and trademark infringement and asked for forty mil ion in damages. So, essential y, this was a victory for McKnight Corporation. If they wanted to, McKnight could pay the award easily and the whole thing would go away, although I had a feeling that Evan Lamey would reject the award if I didn’t.

I turned to Beth and McKnight. Beth raised her eyebrows and mouthed the words “Not bad,” but McKnight had his mouth set in a steely line. I should have known that he would be happy with nothing but total domination.

“Let’s go back to the office to talk,” I said.

“I’l meet you there,” Sean said, and then he was out of his seat and out the door, pushing through the reporters without a word.

Once Beth and I reached McKnight headquarters, Sean McKnight was not there to meet us as promised. Instead, Beth and I holed up in a conference room, going over the arbitration award, the effect it would have on the company if they paid it, and the pros and cons of advancing to trial. I kept looking at my watch, irritated that McKnight couldn’t be bothered to grace us with his presence, then growing more anxious than annoyed as the time crept past eleven and toward eleven-thirty. I had to leave for the airport by twelve at the latest. Even then, I was giving myself probably only thirty minutes to get through security and on the flight.

“So what do you think, Hailey?” Beth said, interrupting my thoughts. “Pay it or play it?”

“It’s not a bad judgment,” I said for the third time that day.

I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince myself or Beth. The award was minimal compared to the mil ionsthecompanyhad,butwhilepayingitcould get McKnight Corporation and its CEO out of my life,itcouldalsomakethecompanylookguiltyand affect future earnings. Beyond that, I was growing concerned again about what the verdict would do to my chances of making partner at the firm. Any partnersopposedtothethoughtofmemakingtheir ranks too soon could just point to a recent loss on behalf of a big client and use it as an excuse.

“A trial would drag this thing out,” I said to Beth, “but maybe that’s for the best. The public has a short attention span these days.”

The door opened then, and Sean McKnight walked in without comment. He strode to the head of the conference table. “Wel ?” he said. He took a seat at least five places away from where Beth and I were.

Beth ducked her head as if trying to stay out of the line of fire.

“Wel , what?” I said. I hated this guy more and more by the minute.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but if you’retalkingaboutthejudgment,it’sexactlywhat I told you to expect. Arbitrators often find for the plaintiff and award an amount they think the defendantcanaffordinordertogetridofacase.With Gary’s testimony, we knew this would probably happen, and I advised you of that on Friday.”

There was silence at the table, one I refused to break, so McKnight and I sat staring at each other until he opened his mouth again.

“And so what shal we do now, Hailey?” It was the first time he’d used my name, and a chil went through my shoulders.

“If the award won’t hurt your reputation too badly, you could pay it and be done with it. You’d have to change the Web site, too, of course.”

“Wel , the award
would
hurt our reputation, and I don’t think our stockholders would be happy. So trial is the other option?”

“That’s right.” I pul ed my gaze away from his oddstareandsnuckanotherlookatmywatch.Only an hour and fifteen minutes until the flight left.

“What makes you think you could win at trial, when you couldn’t win at an arbitration?” McKnight shifted his weight back in his chair and crossed his leg, his dove-gray pants barely creasing with the movement.

Iswal owedalumpofangerthatroseinmythroat like bile. “We’d do a few things differently at trial.”

“Like what? Gary is stil a liability.”

“As I said, he’l never be a good witness, but I’l work on him some more. I’d also like to hire a trial consultant to work with him.”

“Anything else?” McKnight crossed his arms, and I was scared suddenly that he would fire me. I despised the guy, but I couldn’t lose his business, not now.

I decided to give him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Yes, there’s something else.”

He cocked his head as if to say, “Continue.”

“We start playing hardbal ,” I said. I went on to describe investigations we would undertake into Kingston’s own history to try to ward off any reminder of the Fieldings al egations. And I described the exhaustive research we’d conduct to find other Web sites with similar marks and technology to prove that Kingston wasn’t so unique in its own site.

“I like it, Hailey,” he said when I had finished, and again, his use of my first name made me nearly cringe. “Why didn’t we do this before?”

“We decided to keep costs down and see if we could win at the arbitration level.”

McKnight looked to Beth Halverson, who nodded to confirm that this had been the plan. Then he returned his gaze to me.

“This wil be a much more expensive route,” I continued. “Trial consultants and investigators cost a lot of money. Plus, I’l have to put at least one or two associates on the case to research the trademark and technology issues. As you may know, we bil at an average of three hundred and fifty dol ars an hour. So it’s partly an economic decision. Are you wil ing to pay to get the dirt?”

McKnight gave me a cold smile. “I’d like a budget plan. As wel as a letter from you analyzing our trial strategy.”

I didn’t even blink. “Fine.”

“Fine.”Anothersilencedescendedoverthetable.

What is his goddamn problem? I wondered again. I didn’t let myself linger on the question for long, though, since I saw that the time was now advancing on twelve o’clock.

“I’l cal the arbitrators and Evan Lamey to notify them of our decision, and Beth wil file the rejection of the award when she attends the status conference in court today.” I looked to Beth, who nodded again.

McKnight exhaled, as if tired of the conversation. “I want that budget plan and analysis within the next few days.” He rose from his chair and headed for the door.

I held myself back from making a comment about the fact that I had other clients, that I had a life. “Fine,” I said one more time.

Hestoodatthedoor,lookingatmeasifhemight speak again. Beth and I both waited for whatever he would say. But he was silent, and for what seemedlikeaful minute,hisgazeneverleftmine.

Then without another word, he turned and left.

As soon as he closed the door, I looked at Beth.

“He’s a freak,” she said. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“You’re right.” I shoved my papers and laptop into my briefcase. “Look, I’ve got a plane to catch. I’l cal the arbitrators and Evan from the cab. You can handle the status conference, right?”

“No problem.” She shrugged her arms into a suit coat. “And just so you know, I think you did a great job at the arb.”

“At least someone around here does.”

Beth groaned. “I know. I wish I could make an excuse for him.”

“There’s no excuse for someone like that.”

I made it to the airport with only thirty minutes to spare. I rushed to the front of the security line, begging the agents to let me cut in, then ran to the gate and was rewarded with a nearly empty flight and an upgrade to first class because of al the miles I had. I tried to relax once the flight took off, letting the layer of white clouds outside my window block out whatever lay below, but there were too many tasks, too many nagging voices in my head.

I pul ed out my laptop and went to work on the ludicrous essay on why I wanted to be a partner. I was tempted to write,
“For the money, of course,”
but instead I went on about how I wanted to be a permanent part of a firm that was a bastion of excel ent legal skil s and about the way the cyber-law department had increased the firm’s revenues. And then I put my fingers to the keyboard, ready to write about my father and how I wanted to fol ow his legacy, but suddenly I couldn’t get my hands to type the words. I’d planned this part of the essay for weeks, figuring it would play on the sentiment of the election committee while reminding them that my father had helped put the firm on the map. Yet, although I wanted the partnership more than anything, I felt unsure now whether I wanted to fol ow the path my dad had walked in life.

I turned off my computer and cal ed Beth Halverson from the plane phone to see how the status conference had gone. I hadn’t been able to reach Evan Lamey from the cab, and I wanted to see how he’d taken the news.

Beth answered on the first ring. “Oh, Hailey,” she said, “I’ve left two messages for you on your cel phone. You are not going to believe this.”

I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. “What is it?”

“The judge expedited the trial. We’ve got four weeks.”

“Are you kidding me?” My voice was so loud I drew a sharp look from a flight attendant making her way down the aisle.

“Unfortunately, no. He’s sick of the press and said there’s no reason to wait since we’re done with most of our discovery.”

“But we’re not. We’ve got al sorts of new discovery we want to do now.”

“I told him that, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He said he had cleared his schedule, and we need to finish everything up within the month.”

“Jesus.” I rapped my knuckles on my closed computer, ticking off in my mind everything we would need to accomplish. “I’l get some associates researching the marks and stuff. Can you make a few cal s?”

I gave Beth the names of two investigators to look into Kingston’s background. I couldn’t help thinking about everything I’d have to put on the back burner, namely my investigation into my mother’s death. I should probably get a flight to New York as soon as I landed. But I knew I wouldn’t. I was too close to Caroline.

13

Once in the rental car, I made a distress cal to Amy and fired a mil ion directions at her about the McKnight trial. Next, I reached two associates who were free and asked them if they could drop everything in favor of some initial research into Kingston’s technology. When I got back, I would decide who to official y appoint to the case.

It began to rain. Sparkling droplets cut through the sheet-gray sky to splash on the windshield. Instead of depressing me, as rain often did, I found it soothing, so I didn’t close the window.

I let the mist inside the car. It sprayed my face; it cleansed me. Every lawn I passed, every landscaped park, was lushly green with soaring trees and bursting shrubs.

I drove for twenty minutes, fol owing the directions that Matt had given me. Final y, I found Northeast Jarrett Street, where Caroline and Matt lived. It was a residential street lined with smal , trim houses. I slowed and craned my neck to see the addresses, wondering if this had been a good idea. For al I knew, Matt was lying. He could have harmed my sister or pul ed a cruel trick as part of a divorce. What did I know about their marriage or their lives? Nothing. I knew nothing about my own sister and that was exactly why I was here.

Fearwouldn’tmakemeturnablindeyeanymore.

I pul ed into Caroline’s short driveway, which led to a brick bungalow with a white roof. The wind caused blossoms to drop from an apple tree onto the front lawn. A row of bushes protected the house, and a wind chime hung from the front door, tinkling softly. The chime made the house seem calm, a place friends would want to visit, but I knew from talking to Matt that this spot had been anything but calm for the last few weeks.

A pang of nervousness hit my stomach as I made my way up the curved concrete walk to the door. I hadn’t gotten over my fantasies that this search would lead to a happy ending. We would al be a family again. In the future, Matt and I would drink too much eggnog on Christmas Eve, exchange funny e-mails from work.

I rapped on the door with my fist. It opened immediately.

Matt Ramsey looked like the picture he had taken with Caroline on their wedding day— slightly long brown hair, bronzed-wire glasses— but beneath the glasses his eyes appeared red, the skin below them bruised.

“You look like her,” he said without introducing himself. “Your eyes are different, but the hair…” He trailed off.

I nodded. “Can I come in?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Sorry.” He raised his hands, a helpless gesture, before he backed away from the door.

This is where she lives,
I thought. Caroline must have picked out that tan-and-white-striped couch, and she probably made the quilt thrown over it. She might have painted the bricks of the fireplace yel ow, and those daisies long dead in a vase—she bought those, or maybe she’d gone out in her backyard and picked them.

“Sorry about the mess,” I heard Matt say behind me, and it was then I noticed the layer of dust over everything in the room and the restaurant carryout boxes stacked on the coffee table.

“No problem.”

“Sit down, please. Can I get you something to drink? I real y only have water, but I could make some tea. Or if you’re hungry I could make you soup, something.”

I sat on the couch and shook my head no, smiling a little at Matt’s sweetness, at his desire to make me feel comfortable when his wife was missing.

“This is a great house,” I said.

He looked around. “Yeah. It’s smal , but we love it. We bought it right after we got married. As soon as we saw it, we knew it was home. You know what I mean?”

“Sure,” I said, but I didn’t know.

There had never been a place in my life that was home. Wel , maybe the house in Woodland Dunes had felt like that once, but I had only been a child, and I had tried for so long to forget that part of my life that it didn’t resonate anymore. My father was the only symbol of home for me.