Page 29 of Dial L for Lawyer
“Sympathetic enough for you?” I ask as I slide into the seat, smoothing down the skirt of the blue and white floral chiffon. It’s a little too cutesy for my case. But after Caleb mentioned my usual work garb was giving ‘hostile takeover’ when we needed ‘wrongfully accused employee’, I figured a floral dress paired with a blazer was a happy medium.
He gives a fractional nod, like he’d expected me to show up in a garbage bag in protest. “You look…convincing. When you get nervous, touch your necklace, not your ring. Rings make you look defensive. Necklaces make you look like you’re remembering who owns your attention.”
“You’re coaching me on body language now?”
He leans on the table—his hands, large and capable, flattening the folder of evidence between us. “They’ll look for tells. Everyone will.”
I touch my necklace without thinking. “Is it wrong that I just want to yell at someone today?”
“Not if you want to hand them what they want on a silver platter.”
He takes the seat next to mine instead of across, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body, smell that cologne that makes me want to lean into him. The proximity feels deliberate. Like he's testing whether I meant it when I didn't take the out he offered me last night.
Caleb flips open the folder, reviewing a page without letting me see.
“Today is just about containment. No counterattack. Save the drama for after we have something to hit them with.”
“Fine.” I whisper, “But let the record show I’m not above throwing coffee in someone’s face if things get desperate.”
He grins at that—just for a second, that rare wolfish smile. Then he sobers, eyes narrowing at the knock on the door.
Patricia Wong enters with a stack of folders and David right behind her, looking uncomfortable in a way that makes my stomach drop.
"Serena," Patricia says, settling into her chair. "Thank you for coming in."
"Of course." I force my voice steady even though my heart is trying to leap out of my chest.
David takes the seat across from his brother, his usually friendly demeanor replaced by careful formality. "Before we begin, I want to be clear that this is an information-gathering meeting. No decisions have been made about your employment status."
The words should be reassuring, but his tone isn't.
Caleb leans forward slightly. "My client is here voluntarily to help clear up any misunderstandings about the events in question."
Patricia opens the first folder. "We appreciate that. We've uncovered some additional information since we last spoke, and we'd like to get Ms. Morgan's perspective."
Additional information. My palms start to sweat.
"What kind of information?" Caleb asks, his voice sharp.
"Security footage," David says, sliding a photograph across the table. "From the parking garage. This was taken at 11:47 PM on September 15th."
I stare at the grainy image. It's definitely me, walking toward the building entrance. Alone. At nearly midnight.
"I don't understand," I say, looking up. "What's significant about this?"
Patricia pulls out another document. "According to our IT logs, someone using your credentials accessed the campaign files at 12:23 AM that same night. The timestamp matches your badge entry at 11:52 PM."
My mouth goes dry. "I never accessed those files at midnight. I wasn't even here that long."
"How long were you here?" Patricia asks.
I try to remember. It was two weeks ago, right after the Hartley presentation. "Maybe twenty minutes? I came back to get my laptop charger from my office."
"Your office is on the fifteenth floor," David points out. "The files were accessed from a terminal on the twentieth floor. Marketing strategic planning."
My hands start to shake. “That’s not possible. I went straight to my office, like I said. My charger was on my desk, I grabbed it, I left. I didn’t go anywhere near the twentieth floor.”
Patricia is cool as ever. “We have security logs recording your elevator usage. Swipe records show you exited on fifteen, then again on twenty.”
