A Man of Privilege. Sarah M. Anderson
his smile sharpened, and James began to look a little bit dangerous. “That’s a good question. You should because it’s the right thing to do. You’re a good person, Maggie—an honest, decent woman. I can see that. You run your own business and pay your bills. And because you are, you’ll do this because you know you’ll be making the world a little better, a little safer. So, good question. But not the correct one. The correct question is—what’s in it for you? Am I right?”
It wasn’t fair to make her feel guilty for looking out for herself, but he had done just that while simultaneously complimenting the hell out of her. She nodded.
He crossed his arms, his smile growing ever sharper. “You may have been not guilty, but you still have an arrest record. I can make that whole rap sheet disappear. Margaret Touchette disappeared, after all. Her record should disappear with her.”
Maggie knew she shouldn’t react, but she couldn’t stop the “Really?” that escaped from her lips. Starting over, just like that.
One of his eyebrows lifted a little. It made him look thoughtful. “Most people do not get notice when certain persons are released from prison. However, I can guarantee that if one Leonard Low Dog ever sees the free light of day again, you’d know well in advance.”
Oh. That. That could be a useful thing, but she felt ashamed that was even a bargaining chip. So much for starting over. She kept her mouth shut, though. She wished Nan was in here. First off, Nan would see that James was a very good lawyer. He’d figured out what she wanted and needed, and was prepared to exchange it for her testimony. But more than that, she’d know what Maggie should do next.
James made a huffing noise, as if Maggie were twisting his arm when all she was doing was sitting here and getting confused. “In the event that certain persons, such as Low Dog, do manage to locate you, I would be willing to move you—new name, new place. At no cost to you.”
“Pro bono,” she whispered as she stared at the forgotten cake, as if it held all the answers. He was offering to protect her. No one but Nan had ever protected her. Tommy had tried, but … “For how long? Does the offer stand, I mean?” That sounded like something Nan would ask. She was proud of herself for coming up with it all by herself.
“As long as it takes.”
She did some quick math. Low Dog might be in his forties. “Until he dies?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes.”
That was a hell of a promise. She could see James in twenty years—the president of the freaking United States personally guaranteeing the safety and well-being of a nameless Indian woman.
But Tommy trusted him—with his life, he’d said. James Carlson was a man of his word—assuming, of course, that Tommy was, as well.
A couple of hours of her time—and in exchange, she’d get her whole life back. Margaret Touchette would be dead and gone, for good this time. She wouldn’t have to worry anymore. She’d finally be free of all the stupid mistakes she’d made in the past.
“I’ll inform Rosebud of the terms of my offer in writing,” he said. “She’ll be able to explain the full implications of this offer.” He leaned forward then, stretching out his hand until he touched her shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, sending that unusual warmth cascading down her back. If she could stop blushing in front of this man … “Please call her. If not for me, then for yourself. Will you promise me that?”
She shouldn’t have looked up at him then, but she did. He was close enough that she could see the brown flecks in his hazel eyes and the faint scattering of freckles that were almost the same color as his skin.
He was close enough to touch.
She didn’t. Instead, she stood up. His hand fell away from her, but his eyes stayed on hers. “I’ll call,” she promised.
What else could she do?
Four
The law office of Rosebud Armstrong was in a nice building—high ceilings, marble flooring and polished mahogany. Everything about it said money. Lots of it.
Maggie thought about bailing. She didn’t belong in a place like this, and God only knew how much this meeting was going to cost. Yes, James had said pro bono, but someone had to pay. Marble didn’t come cheap.
The receptionist immediately ushered her into the office. The woman behind the desk was beautiful, and her clothes were obviously expensive. Maggie had expected all of that. She hadn’t expected to see the two babies in matching jumpers crawling around the floor.
“Ms. Eagle Heart, I’m Rosebud Armstrong.” They shook hands, and she turned to her receptionist. “Clark, can you handle the boys?”
“Can do. Come on, big guys. Let’s go crawl on the rug!”
Ms. Armstrong gave Maggie an apologetic look. “It’s okay,” Maggie said. “I like kids.” Which was somewhat true. She did like kids. They just scared the hell out of her.
Clark scooped up both babies and managed to shut the door behind him.
“Thank you,” Ms. Armstrong said. “I don’t usually have Tanner and Lewis with me, but our sitter had an emergency today.”
“How old are they?” For some reason, Maggie felt more comfortable making small talk with this woman than she had with anyone in a long time. Maybe it was that they were physically similar—light brown skin, dark brown eyes and long black hair. Sure, Ms. Armstrong’s trousers and silk top made Maggie’s skirt look shabby, but she got the feeling that Ms. Armstrong wasn’t looking down her nose at Maggie.
“Eleven months. But enough about them,” she added. “It’s so nice to meet you. It’s not often I get calls from both Yellow Bird and Carlson about the same woman.”
Maggie’s face flushed hot. “Is that bad?”
“It’s interesting, more than anything.” Ms. Armstrong looked Maggie over with a calculating eye. “Not too many people are capable of confounding one of them, much less both of them.”
“Ms. Armstrong—”
“Please. Call me Rosebud.”
“Okay. Rosebud. I’m not trying to confound anyone.”
“That’s what makes it so interesting.” Rosebud continued to study her.
Maggie decided maybe she didn’t feel so comfortable making small talk. She decided to try taking over the conversation. “Tommy said you’d gone to school with Mr. Carlson.” Just saying his name out loud made her think back to the sight of him standing in her garden, looking happy to see her. Maybe she could get some answers on what kind of man James was.
“Did he, now?” A small grin flashed across Rosebud’s face, but it was gone before Maggie could figure out what it meant. “That’s true. He was top of the class. He’s a damn good lawyer.” She added, “Agent Yellow Bird mentioned that he told you a few things about how James operates.”
“He just said Mr. Carlson likes to have insurance policies.” Tommy hadn’t mentioned anything about generous gifts or hot touches, though. Maybe that wasn’t how James normally operated.
“That’s correct. When James promises that he won’t use your deposition unless he has to, I can personally guarantee that he will keep that promise. He will only use your information if the rest of his case falls apart. A worst-case scenario, if you will.”
A lawyer who kept his promises? Rosebud seemed nice and all, but how could Maggie take the word of one lawyer about another? “Will that happen?” She’d had enough worst-case scenarios to last her the rest of her life. “Tommy said he’s never lost a case.”
“It’s possible, but not probable.” A sad sort of smile pulled at the corners of Rosebud’s mouth. “He’s never cashed in a policy, so you should be safe. He’s