Page 9 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“I don’t have a lot of choices at the moment,” I say, picking up a pen and fidgeting with it. “You know about all the hang-ups getting a new assistant hired.” I toss the pen back down on the desk and stare moodily at it.

“Yes. I do,” she says. “That’s why I’m here.” Barbara picks up my tossed pen and puts it in the cup half hidden by a stack of papers and lays down her blue folder in its place. “I know all about the hang-ups. Go ahead and open it.”

I raise one questioning eyebrow and flip open the folder. When I see what’s inside, the second eyebrow goes up, but this time it’s in shock. At the top of a thin stack of paper is a fully signed and approved authorization to hire an assistant.

“My God, Barbara.” I look up at her, stunned. “I’ve been… I mean…”

“You should have talked to me,” she says. “You’re working too much.”

“Yeah. Too hard to even think about it.”

“Well, the red tape has been cleared up, now. It seems the authorization had been shuffled to the bottom of the wrong pile.” She pauses, pursing her lips in amoueof disapproval. “It’s almost as if someone didn’t want you to get an assistant. You’re lucky I’ve been paying attention, young man.”

“You are an absolute lifesaver, Barbara.” I run a hand through my hair. “I mean it. Now… oh, hell. Now I have to deal with the job descriptions, with postings, with interviews… More time that I don’t really have to spend.”

“Mister Cooper.” Her voice is flat. “That’s already been handled. The postings and job descriptions, I mean.” Barbara’s flinty eyes shrink me back in my leather, but she only holds the glare for a few seconds before glancing down at her watch. “I’m better at my job than that,” she says. “Look at theotherpages.”

“Okay, then. There’s… a resumé.” I flip further, then look up to see Barbara looking back down at her watch. “Just that. A resumé. As in,oneresumé.”

“Efficiency is key, Mister Cooper. And you’ve been working too hard. Besides-” another peek down at her wrist “-I don’t think you’ll need more than the one. Speaking of which-”

“Oh, wow!” I interrupt without thinking. Behind the resumé is a hand-written letter of recommendation, and the letterhead saysLisa Hatcher Mayfield, PC, LLC.

It begins: “Gabriel: Barbara says you’re desperately in need of some seriously talented help around the office. I strongly believe that you will not find a smarter or harder-working candidate than…” Holy crap. Lisa took the time to write this out longhand.

I don’t get any further than that one line before Barbara clears her throat.

“Speaking. Of. Which,” she says, with a knife edge to each word. “I’ve already scheduled an interview.” Another glance down at her watch.

“Ah! Great!” I say, though mentally I’m cringing at the thought of what else I’m going to have to reschedule, what tasks I’ll be letting slide. “When?”

I get no answer. Barbara’s back is to me. She’s… leaving my office? I hear the outer door open and close.

“Come on in, then,” Barbara says, standing in my doorway.

“She doesn’t have an appoint-!” Annoyance is clear in Karin’s voice.

“Yes, she does.” Barbara cuts the receptionist off sharply before turning back to me. “Mister Cooper,” she says, “Your two o’clock is here.”

Barbara steps into the room, followed by… Is this the candidate?

Red hair. Fiery. The color of a blast furnace full of molten steel. Wide, inquisitive blue eyes, whose sparkle promises a heat inside to match the hair. High cheekbones, with a dusting of freckles. Gray skirt suit, very professional, but it can’t hide the basic outlines of-

Nope. Nope, nope,nope.

“Emily Wilson,” Barbara says, “meet Assistant State Attorney Cooper.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” the candidate says, smiling. “It was so good to see you again, and thank you for setting this meeting up for me.”

“My pleasure, Emily,” Barbara says, then fixes me with another glare. One corner of her mouth twitches slightly, then a little more, curving into the very faintest hint of a smile.

My God. Barbara Randolph, the dragon queen of Human Resources herself, just smiled. At me. After five years in the SA’s office, I’ve finally seen it happen.

The bigger question, though, is what does itmean.

“Nice to meet you, Emily,” I say.

Her hand shake is firm, and I like that she looks me in the eyes. Those eyes. Maybe I like it a little too much.

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