Page 62 of Velvet Chains
“She always knows what I want before I say it. And she brought me a glow-in-the-dark sticker book. Only witches do that.”
“Well,” I said slowly, “if she turns you into a toad, you let me know.”
“How? Toads don’t talk.”
“That’s why you need a lawyer before she turns you into one,” I said. “You need to draft a contract for both your sakes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, mami.”
Rosie was still chattering about her toast tower as we headed out the door, backpack bouncing against her sparkly pink jacket, completely unaware that I was unraveling like a cheap suit thread.
I was halfway to the school when my phone rang.
Unknown Number.
My stomach clenched. Rosie was humming along to some kids' podcast in the backseat, kicking her feet like it was any other Tuesday.
I tapped speaker.
“Hello?”
“District Attorney Marquez? This is Special Counsel Lucy Darnell with the Department of Justice.”
The hum in the car vanished. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear anything past the static in my ears.
“This is—yes. This is Ruby Marquez,” I said, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling to formally advise you that a federal review of prosecutorial conduct in your district is being opened. This pertains to a pattern of obstruction observed in connection with ongoing investigations into the Callahan criminal organization.”
Rosie perked up from the back. “Mommy, what’s a Callahan?”
“Not now, baby,” I said quickly, my voice almost cracking.
Special Counsel Darnell continued, voice smooth as marble and just as cold. “You’ll be receiving a formal letter this morning. In the meantime, we’d like to schedule an interview—voluntary, of course. We expect the city will want to help prosecute, but we’re working on something big. Something national. You can help us, if you wish. Or…”
Or it won’t be voluntary. Lucy Darnell was polite, but I wasn’t an idiot.
“Of course,” I said automatically.
I couldn’t feel my legs.
“Can we speak today, Ms. Marquez?”
“I—” My hand trembled. I missed the turn for school. Rosie didn’t notice. I pulled into the side street just past it and parked, not trusting myself to drive. “I’ll have to check with my office.”
“Okay. I’ll have my secretary get in touch with yours. The sooner the better, DA Marquez. You understand.”
“I do understand,” I said. “You let me know.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You too, Counsel. Speak soon.”
She hung up and I looked at Rosie through the passenger camera. “You doing okay, peanut?”
“Yes, mami. Are you? You sound mad.”
“Just dumb work stuff, love,” I said, driving toward the school again. “I’m not mad.”
