Monday, October 15
"What were you doing in isolation?" Constance stared at Nick across the conference room table. Straight from four days in a solitary cell, he looked like hell. His hair was a greasy mess, his beard was growing in, and he reeked. But she still couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked coarse and thin but so perfectly masculine. She wanted to wrap her arms around his solid body and protect him.
"I'll tell you one thing. . ." His parched mouth smiled. "I get to do this in isolation." He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.
So gorgeous. She felt unnaturally dreamy, right here in the city jail. He laid back in his chair and gave her a lazy look. She could barely resist the urge to throw herself at him.
I need to change the subject. Without his shirt on, their conversation could easily veer into dangerous territory. "I heard you picked a fight with your cellmate."
Nick shook his head. "That's what I told the guards so I could be sent to isolation. I couldn't meditate in a shared cell."
Constance sat up straight. "Really? You went there voluntarily so you could meditate?" What an interesting idea. She was impressed.
"Yeah, and you got me pulled out early. The guards seem to think you have magical powers around here. Do you really know the sheriff?"
"I, uh, I've got some connections. It comes with being a Westerley. So did you get any information in there?"
Nick exhaled loudly. "Nothing useful. I just kept seeing my desk."
"Your desk?"
"Yeah. And not the whole desk, either. Just the bottom drawer on the right."
"What's in there?"
"Nothing! That's the thing. Just some food. A bottle of rum. I could use some of that right now."
"That's it? You didn't get any other information?"
Desperation shrouded his face. "Sorry. I really tried. But all I saw was my stupid desk. Sometimes the lower drawer seemed to be pulsing with light. Does that help any?"
He saw a pulsing light? His mind was definitely trying to tell him something. It seemed significant. Constance sat up with big eyes. "Wow! That might actually help. All right, Nick. I'll investigate it."
"Really? On the basis of an isolation-fueled delusion, you're going to go looking for evidence? You're one kooky lawyer."
"I'll admit it. I've got it pretty bad." Of course, she didn't say what she'd got pretty bad. Or more precisely, who. But she was pretty sure he knew.
Constance left the conference room and went to find Phil Costello, the investigator. "Phil, I need someone to come with me to Nick Veseli's place and search for more evidence. Are you free?"
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