Bad Behavior(31)

Jonesy snapped his fingers and brought me out of my reverie. "Evan!"

"Jesus, what?"

"I'm serious, Evan. He's really working you. He knows things about you. He knows your client list front to back. He knows your history. He's made a study of you. He's like a stalker or something. I knew he was interested in you from the first day at the bar. But there was a lot more. I went through his files today when he was at lunch. He has an entire dossier on you and your clients. Their connections and your cases with them."

He took a bite. "Damn, this is good."

I swallowed hard. I knew Lincoln would have done a thorough study of any opponent, but this seemed pretty far-reaching. I played nonchalant.

"Doesn't seem like a big deal. He wouldn't be a very good prosecutor if he didn't study his opponent. Besides, you know plenty about me, too. Are you a stalker?"

"He's hardcore, Evan. I warned you not to fuck with him. And what was the first thing you did?"

"I fucked him, hard. Did you know he's into spanking?"

He flinched at my words. I knew it was harsh, too harsh. But I was beginning to feel the one emotion I hated more than all others. Fear. I had to fight it away, to be hard and cold. That was the only way to keep the feeling in its cage.

He put his fork and knife down with a clang. "I don't think you understand. He's had a bead on you for a long, long time. He knew all about you before you ever began to represent Castille." 

He was worried. It was written in his voice, his rigid back. Worried for me.

The klaxons in my mind were blaring. Why would Lincoln make an effort to know my backlist of clients? Why would he care about my history, where I came from, what I'd done in the business? The nagging feeling of missing something was back, but this time it was a punch in the gut. I put down my silverware, the delicious food suddenly too rich, too much for me.

I finally asked the question that had been bothering me the most. "Why did he charge Castille in this district?"

"Evan, I can't tell you that." His tone was measured. "But I think if you reflect on your law practice over the past few years, think about the cases and clients you've had since you left the public defender's office-maybe that would give you some insight."

His pale blue eyes bored into me, making me take stock of the enormity of what he was saying. I felt the fear clawing at me in the pit of my stomach.

If Jonesy was saying what I thought he was, Lincoln was after a much bigger fish than Castille. Much, much bigger. My former clients, definitely. Me, possibly. If Castille had anything to do with my other clients, and could somehow implicate them, then this entire case had just gotten way, way out of hand.

Jonesy's warning explained the New York venue. Castille was likely a stepping-stone to a bigger case. But Vinnie's check on him came back clean. Castille had zero ties to any black dealings here. The only link between my new clients and my former clients that I could think of was me. If I had become a liability to certain clients, I shuddered to think of what they'd do to rectify the situation.

Shit, shit, shit. I dabbed the napkin around my mouth to hide the cold sweat that had broken out along my upper lip.

"And just how does he plan on connecting any of my past clients to my current client-"

"What is this? You don't like my special béchamel?" Sal had come up behind me, his thick Italian accent rising over the sound of other diners' conversations. He took my hand and gave my knuckles a sloppy kiss.

I tried to regain my composure. "No, Sal, it's delicious. Promise."

"What wine did Trish pick to go with it? The Anfora, the Ribolla?"

Malbec from Argentina. I tried to stutter out a response. Yes, I stuttered. "It's the, the, uh-"

"The Anfora. Italian wines truly are the best." Jonesy to the rescue.

Sal clapped him on the back. "You bring this one anytime you want, bella."

"Thanks, Sal." I took another bite to appease him and stifled my gag reflex.

He watched with pride, never noticing my trouble.

"I'll leave you two alone. And you, bella, there is no excuse for you not coming more often. I'll send the boys out to fetch you if I don't see you at least twice a month."

The twinkle in his eyes belied the fact that he did, indeed, have a posse of ruffians that would have no problem dragging me before Sal. He wasn't the only one of my clients who had strongmen at their disposal. The fear tried to creep in again. I fought it down.

Once Sal was gone, I rose to leave.

"Stay," Jonesy said, standing along with me. His tone was pleading. Maybe he already knew where I was headed. I'm sure he could guess.

"No. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Unless you have any more information?"