CHAPTER TWENTY
Daniel hurried into the courthouse. The verdict came in a day earlier than expected and would be read at the top of the hour, and the assistant DA felt all the key players should be there. His phone vibrated.
Colin: READ THE NEWS
Morgan: Who leaked the mineral report?
Bonnie: Don’t you dare . . .
He raised his brow at the last one, turned off his phone, and tucked it into his briefcase before going through security. He would have to wait until after the verdict to figure out what was going on.
The jury only deliberated forty minutes. It was, after all, one of those slam-dunk cases every DA wanted. Even without the testimonies, there were hundreds of subpoenaed photos from that evening, including several of the EMT’s bloodied nose. As expected, the judge made an example of the three photographers who had chosen to plead not guilty and pay the initial fine.
One would think the paparazzi would be on their best behavior for a while, unless they happened to be exiting the courthouse. There had been fewer photographers at the last television awards banquet. Daniel turned back into the courthouse to wait them out. Unfortunately, his 180 brought him right into the arms of Summerset, who was standing on the step above him. Her mouth landed on his and her arms wrapped around him. Conscious of the narrow stairs behind him, Daniel didn’t jerk back as he removed her arms from around his neck and stepped to the side.
Summerset gave him a pouty look. “Why, that was the worst kiss I have ever received.”
“That would be because I didn’t kiss you.”
The unanticipated slap landed hard enough to cause him to step back and nearly lose his balance.
Once he’d steadied himself, he turned, plowed through the paparazzi, and hailed a cab.
On his way to the apartment, he turned on his phone and opened the link Colin had sent him. A refinery? Never. He nodded at the doorman while still trying to read the last of the article. In the privacy of the elevator, he let out an audible groan. It wasn’t often he reached the point where he wanted to hit something. Best hide away for the rest of the day. Fortunately his social calendar showed a Thursday-night hiatus. He hoped the furniture had arrived so he could sit down and work.
It had.
He picked up an orange-and-purple pillow and threw it at the yellow couch. For good measure, he punched the pink chair with stainless steel trim and stomped on the flowered carpet.
No one had warned him the decorator was colorblind.
Thursday found Mandy at her usual 4:00 p.m. appointment with Dr. Christensen.
He frowned at the images on his tablet. “I must say I am disappointed with this last set. A museum and a country club are solid, but they don’t stretch the imagination, do they? Not like today’s news about the refinery.”
“Refinery?”
Dr. Christensen reached into his blue recycle bin and pulled out the front section of the South Bend Tribune.
Mandy read the headline twice. “May I keep this?”
“It is a gimme, but I think you should do one with what the property would be like with a petrochemical refinery on the site.”
Mandy half paid attention. How could Daniel do that to Hank’s great-grandson? He had promised. She should have called last night or the night before. But she didn’t know what to say. Thank him for the bodyguard or say good-bye? If she spoke to him now, she knew she would yell. What would Grandma Mae tell her to do?
Mandy had no idea.
She dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail.
Mandy entered from the garage. Candace and her law-school friend were sitting at the table in a heated discussion.
“Is it true?” Candace held up an IndyStar with the same headline as the South Bend paper.
Mandy pulled her own out. “It’s in multiple reputable papers, it must be. I don’t think the big syndicates retract many stories. I tried to call Daniel, but it went to voicemail. I am having problems believing he would sell the land for a refinery.” She hadn’t left a message. He might see the new missed call with her area code.
Candace tapped her legal pad. “We are planning a rally for Saturday.”
“It will hit the news cycle better if we hold it Monday, providing anyone pays attention to my emails.” The law student looked as though he had been arguing for a while.
“Are you in?” asked Candace.
Mandy sorted through the mail sitting on the counter. Two envelopes from the hospital. Probably her ER bill. She opened one as she answered Candace. “With Mr. Alexander on my tail, it doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t let me anywhere near a rally. Do you know how hard it is to teach with an observer in the room and half your students lusting after him?”
“Oh, let me guess. They wanted to use him for the live model—shirtless.” Candace giggled.
Mandy rolled her eyes. “Thankfully, my classes are not up to life drawing. Although one of the girls did manage to work him into a reflection of her still life. He kept my third hour petrified and Coach Robb from coming on to me in the teacher’s lounge.” Mandy sighed. The coach would not lay a hand on her for quite a while. The handshake Mr. Alexander had given him had stopped short of breaking bones. She had no idea what the conversation had been, but she hoped whatever was said kept him away for the rest of the school year.
“What did Coach Handsy try this time?”
“I was getting the mail out of my cubby, and he came up behind me. Mr. Alexander was so fast it barely registered that Coach was saying something about a ‘tight end’ and trying for one of his hands-on approaches.” Mandy paused and reread the check. “That is odd. The hospital sent me a reimbursement.”
The law student focused on her through his thick glasses. “Have you ever filed a harassment complaint?”
“Half the single women in the school have, but the team is winning, so we get to put up with it.” Mandy rolled her eyes before trying to read the letter from the billing department. “Have either of you ever heard of the insurance covering your deductible, too? This letter says my March ER visit has been paid in full. That doesn’t make any sense.”
Candace took the letter. “It wasn’t paid by your insurance. See the code on the copy of the bill? It is a different acronym. Looks like a third party.”
Mandy took the letter back and stuffed the paper back in the envelope. “There must be some mistake.”
“Back to our protest.” Candace pulled out the paper she had been doodling on. “Are you in?”
Hank’s grandson swam across her mind. “If it is true, maybe. But I think the story needs to be verified.” Mandy focused on Candace, not wanting to break the unwritten rule of talking about other guys in front of potential boyfriend material. “I think that techy friend you have may have the connections to verify this. You should contact him.”
Candace jotted a note on her pad.
“As for me, I had my next picture for my MFA drop in my lap. I hadn’t thought of destroying the mansion.” She plucked a wilting rose from the bouquet and vowed to try to call Daniel again.
“Oh, did you read the paragraph where DC turned down an offer to make it a mortuary and private cemetery?”
“Missed that, but I did that to the old church.” Mandy hurried to her room.