Bad Bitch(61)

Wood smiled, actually smiled. It was winsome. “That’s the beauty of it. We’ll be prosecuting his son. His son has no attorney-client privilege with Evan, so we can use the documents however we see fit. Leon would be in no jeopardy and would have no basis or standing to object to our use of the information.”

“No,” I said. “It’s probably still a violation of the ethics rule. She’d have to give up her license.”

Wood frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead like waves on an ocean of unhappiness. “Maybe, maybe. But I think that’s a chance she’ll have to take at this point. If she wants to stay in this city and stay alive, she’ll have to risk it.”

I knew Wood was right. His plan was the best shot we’d have at getting Evan out of DiSalvo’s web while still allowing her to continue her practice.

“Where is she, by the way? In Jonesy’s office?”

I stood, worry shooting into my breast like a leaping flame. “No, she’s at my place.”

“You left her to her own devices after a night like last night? A pistol like her, she may have hired her own hit squad and sent it to Cuba by now.” Wood smiled, looking pleased at the thought of Evan exacting her own brand of vengeance. He truly did worship the woman.

“Shit. I should call her. What time is—”

His secretary buzzed his line. “Mr. Woodhall?”

“I told you no calls, Rita.”

“It’s Evangeline Pallida. She says it’s urgent.”

The fear went from a flame to a blaze in an instant.

“Put her through.”

I stood at the edge of Wood’s desk, as if getting closer to the speaker would get me closer to her.

“Wood?” Her sweet, high voice had a somber note to it.

Wood’s voice boomed in comparison. “Evan. I heard you’ve run into a little trouble.”

“Is Lincoln there?”

“Standing right here.”

“Good.”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“That’s not important. Here’s what is. I have arranged a storage building in Jersey. The details will be left with Trish at Sal’s. Wood, you know where that is, right?”

“Sure. He’s a real treat, especially when wielding a baseball bat. I’ve had a few run-ins with Sal over the years.”

“Of course you have. Anyway, Trish will have what you need to find the storage building. Inside, you will find a treasure trove. Lincoln . . .” Her voice cracked as she said my name. She tried again, stronger this time. “Lincoln, everything you need to do what we talked about, what you originally had planned when you came to the city, is in that storage building. There will be more than enough information, especially when combined with Castille’s data, for you to trace money, accounts, individuals, everything. You can get them all, repair some of the things I’ve done, have the courage that I didn’t.”

I didn’t like her tone, the finality of it. I wanted to rush home and make sure she was there. But the sinking feeling in my chest told me she was already gone.

She took a deep breath and let out a long exhale. “But I do have some terms. Wood, pick up the receiver.”

“Are you sure there isn’t more you’d like to say to Lin—”

“God damn it, Wood, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” A muffled sob shot through the speaker.

I reached for the phone, but Wood snagged it first. He lifted it to his ear.

I strained to hear her, to get some sense of what she was telling him. I couldn’t hear anything except the hum of her voice.

He held my gaze, giving a “yes” or an “uh-huh” here and there.

“Great minds think alike. Right, five years.” After a while he frowned, something she said not sitting well with him. “That’s not going to be easy, Evan.”

Her voice grew louder, but I still couldn’t make out the words.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wood gave in. “You got it, just give me the details.”

She quieted down. Wood once again repeated his assent here and there.

I couldn’t focus on anything else. Just her, the tenuous grip I’d had on her disappearing right out of my hands.

“I think we have a deal. Take care of yourself, Evan.” Wood hung up the phone. His friendly brown eyes held solace for me. I didn’t want it.

I felt the rage rising to the surface, ready to do some damage. If I had been as foolhardy as I was a decade before, I’d have committed a felony right then and there.

As it was, I slammed my fists down on his desk. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone, Lincoln.”

“Where?”

“I can’t say.”