Felicity Christiansen.
Ivy’s head swam, the world curving in, back out, watery. Felicity was Darek’s wife.
“He was driving one mile over the speed limit,” Mitch argued back to Diane.
“And he was texting.”
“They never proved that.”
“Only because it never went to court! He pleaded out. There are folks in Deep Haven who are still angry over that.”
Ivy couldn’t breathe. Clearly neither Diane nor Mitch knew that she’d been the one who helped orchestrate the plea agreement. Or at least suggest the parameters.
“He never would have gotten a fair trial here, Diane, and you know it.”
Diane’s lips gathered in a tight bunch. “Maybe.”
“Diane—”
“I just feel sorry for the family. Darek raising that sweet little boy all by himself. He and Felicity had their whole lives ahead of them.”
Bile pooled in Ivy’s chest. She just might throw up.
“I still can’t believe the judge granted a departure from the sentencing guidelines.”
“Blame it on timing,” Mitch said. “Judge Carver was leaving, and he’d driven that patch of road too many times to agree with a vehicular homicide ruling.”
“If Jensen’s dad hadn’t been a lawyer—”
“He wasn’t represented by his father,” Ivy said softly.
Diane glanced at her. Frowned. “You’re familiar with the case?”
“It made all the headlines in the Cities, Diane. Of course she is.”
No, that wasn’t it. But she couldn’t . . . “It was handled by another firm.”
“Well, someone knew their law because they dug up some precedence and produced quite a memorandum. Otherwise Carver would have never allowed the plea bargain to go through.”
Ivy looked at the water, where otters skimmed along the surface, ducking under to hide, reappearing in the shadows under the dock.
“He might not have gotten jail time, but the guy has certainly paid for his crime,” Mitch said.
Diane poked at the ice cubes in her glass with her straw. “How?”
“Can you imagine living in a town that hates you? That wishes you were in jail? He’s toed the line, and now he’ll violate his probation by less than a hundred hours.”
“That’s a lot.”
“Not when you consider he had three thousand hours to fill.”
DJ’s words trickled back to Ivy. Justice can take many shades, especially in a small town.
Indeed, from Darek’s—and Tiger’s—viewpoint, perhaps justice hadn’t prevailed, not at all.
She hadn’t gotten the case wrong, had she?
“He could file a motion for clemency,” Mitch said.
“What?” Diane shook her head. “Listen, a crime was committed, and he had ample time to complete his community service. Let him go to jail.”
Ivy must have gone a little white because Mitch glanced at her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
But how could she possibly be okay with Darek’s voice in her head? He stole my life from me.
And she’d made it worse. She kept Jensen out of jail.
How could she not have figured it out? Darek had talked about his wife, how he lost her so young. But . . . Ivy hadn’t asked because she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d been so desperate for him to like her . . .
She was smarter than this. She should have pieced it together. Why hadn’t she?
The question dogged her all afternoon after she escaped to her office, closing the door to pull herself together. Now, she stood at the window and fought the urge to pack her things, take off back to Minneapolis.
Before Darek found out.
Before she had to tell him.
Maybe . . . maybe she just wouldn’t tell him. Did he really have to know?
A knock came at her door. “Come in.”
She turned to find DJ entering. “Just stopping in to check on you.”
“Did you have a nice weekend?”
He slipped into a chair, grinning, teeth white against his dark face. “I should ask you the same thing.”
“What?”
“First you buy Darek Christiansen and then you kiss him?” He leaned back, crossed one leg over the other.
She winced. “You saw that?”
“All of Deep Haven saw that. Right there on the sidewalk in front of the harbor.”
Ivy sank into her desk chair. “Tell me the truth—now do you think it’s a conflict of interest? Me seeing him? Especially after I wrote the memo on Jensen’s case?”
Clearly she’d knotted her brain too tight on this because DJ frowned. “So you didn’t know about the connection between Darek and Jensen. I wasn’t sure.” He sighed. “No, it’s not a conflict of interest. Your firm wasn’t the attorney on record, and you didn’t even know Darek at the time. So . . . no.”