Wild Justice

CHAPTER 34

I’d like to think Koss’s warm greeting meant he wasn’t responsible for the hit on me, but I wasn’t foolish enough to follow him into any empty buildings or down any dark alleys. Fortunately, he didn’t try to lead me to any. He took me just off campus to a small pub, where we sat in a spot private enough to talk, but not so private that he could shoot me under the table and escape undetected.

I caught a glimpse of Jack on the way to the bar, only because he let me see him, so I’d know he was nearby. If he came into the pub with us, he stayed out of sight.

After we ordered a drink, Koss said, “When I first contacted you, I didn’t get the impression you knew I’d helped represent Aldrich.”

“I just found out a couple of days ago. His death brought it back and I wanted to know more about the trial, to better understand what happened. I saw your picture. I was already taking a few days off work, and I have friends in Chicago, so I decided to see if you might speak to me. You seemed sympathetic before about Wayne Franco, so I thought . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought. I’m not laying blame. I know where that lies—on Drew Aldrich. It’s just that . . . I never knew much about the trial. I was too young. I heard plenty, all from my family’s side. I just . . . I want to understand.”

“And I’m happy to help with that,” Koss said. “Though I fear nothing I have to say will make you feel any better about the matter. Aldrich was guilty. We all knew it. But as a former officer of the law, you know that it’s the defense’s job to give their client his best shot, however uncomfortable that may be sometimes. Even for those who don’t see it as a game, who are interested in justice, we tell ourselves that by offering the best defense possible, a guilty man will go to jail, that justice will be served, with little room left for appeal.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Even so, I couldn’t handle being on that side of a courtroom. Aldrich’s case was instrumental in making me see that.”

He took a sip of his whiskey before continuing. “You may hope I’ll tell you he got an unfair trial. To say that there was evidence tampering or underhanded legal maneuvers. There wasn’t. It was, in my opinion, worse than that, because this case shows a basic failing of the legal system. What Aldrich got was a world-class defense pitted against a small-town prosecution team. My firm saw the opportunity for an easy pro bono win, one that would bolster their reputation as both lawyers and humanitarians. They seized it. Your family paid the price, and I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s what I figured when I found out who took the case. Can you talk a little about it? If you have time?”

“I do, and I will.”

He said little I hadn’t already gleaned from news reports. As for getting a read on Koss, I failed on that, too. All I could tell was that he still seemed troubled by his involvement with Aldrich’s case.

Did I find myself questioning whether he’d killed Aldrich? Not really. Whether he pulled the trigger or not, he was guilty, and I didn’t have a problem reconciling that with the thoughtful man sitting before me. If you believe in something strongly enough, you’ll kill for it. I know that better than anyone.

Did I think it was possible for him to sit here, being so patient and considerate, if he’d put out a hit on me? I doubted it. As good an actor as I was, I couldn’t have pulled that one off myself. But I couldn’t rule it out, either.

So we talked. He answered all my questions with no sign that he had better places to be. In the end, even when I was worrying that I was holding him up, he made sure I had everything I needed, and offering to facilitate discussions with others involved in the case. He sat with me for over an hour before he finally made his excuses and said good-bye.

Though I may have failed to come to any conclusions about Koss’s role in my hit, that was certainly not the only reason we’d taken the risk of meeting him. We wanted to see what he’d do after I made contact.

I let him leave the pub first, as I made a pit stop in the restroom. Then I followed him at enough of a distance that if he glanced back and saw me, I’d seem merely to be heading in the same direction. There were enough people on the sidewalk that it was unlikely he’d even spot me. I watched to see if he made a call or texted anyone. He didn’t. He headed straight to a campus parking lot, which happened to be the same lot where Jack had parked. I managed to get his car’s make, license number, and the direction he was headed before Jack whipped up and I climbed into the backseat.

I changed my clothes and added a wig and glasses. I had no intention of getting close to Koss. The disguise was simply in case he glimpsed me in the car.

We followed him through the city. It was late rush hour, which meant the streets were busy enough to make tailing simple. As we drove, I kept the binoculars trained on Koss to see if he made any phone calls. He didn’t seem to. He drove straight to a shopping plaza in the suburbs and pulled up to a park outside a restaurant.

“His dinner engagement,” I said as we watched from a distance.

Koss hopped out and hurried over to where a woman waited just outside the restaurant doors.

“And that would be his wife,” I said.

“You sure?”

“Yep. I saw her photo online.”

They went into the restaurant. We didn’t follow. Koss wasn’t about to place a panicked call to his Contrapasso colleagues while dining with his wife. Which would seem to imply that he wasn’t placing a panicked call at all.

Still, we weren’t done checking out Sebastian Koss. Our next step would have been to break into his office, except he didn’t have one. Or he did, but it was at home. Which was convenient, actually, giving us the chance to search his personal and business life at once. Except that when Jack called to check, a girl answered, presumably Koss’s teenage daughter. No way were we breaking in with kids at home.

“What do you think?” I asked as we sat in the parking lot, car idling.

“Not going to assume anything,” Jack said. “But he seems clean. Of wanting you dead, at least. Dig more tomorrow. For now?” He checked his watch. “Reservation’s in just over an hour. You still up for it?”

I smiled. “Absolutely.”

We hadn’t gotten a chance to check into our hotel yet. Now we did.

“This is nice,” I said as I gaped around the elevator, all polished brass and shimmering marble.

Jack mumbled something I didn’t quite catch, but that told me I shouldn’t comment on the fancy hotel. Just accept it.

The “not commenting” part got harder when I walked into our room. The door opened into a living room with sofas, a full bar, and a massive window overlooking the gorgeous Chicago skyline. There was no way I couldn’t not say something, so I settled for, “This is really nice,” while walking to the window, giving him the chance to opt out of a reply, which he did.

“Got two bathrooms,” he said after a moment. “Figured that would make things easy. Take the bedroom one. Probably bigger.”

“All right.”

I headed that way, and I was almost to the door when Jack got in front of me, so fast he startled me.

“Um, about the bedroom,” he said. “Only one bed. Got a sofa bed, too. I’ll take that. Wasn’t a two-bed option. Just . . . wanted to let you know.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get ready then.”

“Right,” he said and stepped out of my path.

It took me a while. I might know how to do the dress-up thing, but I’m rusty. After thirty minutes, I realized I was putting our reservation in jeopardy and opened the door to tell Jack I was almost ready. The room was silent.

“Jack?”

No answer.

I slid from the bathroom to peek around the bedroom door. Yes, I was decent, but I wasn’t quite done yet and didn’t want to ruin that first impression.

“Jack?”

The room was empty. The other bathroom door was open and the inside light was off. I was looking around when I noticed a note on the table. I scampered over to it.

Bringing the car around. Just come down. Don’t rush.

Of course I did rush. I took this as a subtle message that I was indeed late. So I finished getting ready and then hurried down.

Was I a little disappointed with the arrangement? Yes, I’ll admit it. I’d taken some serious effort to make an impression, and his first sight of me was going to be as I dashed out the hotel front door while he waited in the car. Worse yet, when I got down to the lobby the car wasn’t even there. Two vehicles idled out front—a BMW and a Jag.

Then the driver’s door on the BMW opened and Jack stepped out. He started to come around. As he turned toward me, getting a full look for the first time, he stopped. He stared. Then he caught himself and continued striding over to meet me.

I was trying not to stare myself. I’ve seen Jack dressed up. He’d worn a tux for the opera during a stakeout. At the time, I’d wondered how he’d carry off the look—it didn’t seem right for him. I’d been wrong. Jack looked as comfortable in a suit as he did in a biker outfit. It just brought out another side to that dangerous edge, making him look like he was ready to throw down in the boardroom rather than in a bar. Tonight he wore a sports coat and tie, but the effect was the same. Freshly shaven. Black hair gleaming. Wearing that suit like it came from his closet, not straight off a store rack. He looked good. Damned good.

“Something happened to our car,” I said as he reached me. “It must have been sitting in that parking garage too long. The other vehicles rubbed off on it.”

He smiled. He didn’t say anything, though, just put a hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the car as he leaned over to open the door. He didn’t say anything about my outfit, either. I didn’t expect him to. Before the opera, it’d been Quinn who’d told me how good I looked—multiple times. With Jack, I hadn’t even been sure he’d noticed. Now, he noticed. I could feel his gaze on me as I got into the car, and that was more flattering than anything he could have said.

When we reached the restaurant, I could see why he’d switched cars. If we’d driven our economy rental up to the valet, they’d probably have refused to park it. As it was, we fit right in. As we walked inside and through the restaurant, Jack’s hand still resting at my back, we caught some glances. Mostly women, checking him out, as discreetly as possible, given the venue. I earned some looks, too, and held my head a little higher. Most of the time, I’m happy to blend. I want to blend. Every now and then, though, under the right circumstances, a little attention is nice.

I’d been worried dinner might be awkward with both of us out of our comfort zone, but as soon as we were seated, we started talking as we would over any other meal. Except it wasn’t “any other meal.” We both knew that. The car, the restaurant, the dress, the suit . . . it all said that this wasn’t just dinner between friends.

We stayed at the restaurant until there was only one other table of diners left. When we finally stepped outside, the cool night air was as refreshing as any country breeze, and I paused a moment, drinking it in.

“Nice night,” Jack said as the valet hurried over.

I smiled. “It is.”

Jack motioned for the valet to wait. “You want to walk?” He shrugged off his jacket. “Saw a park over . . .” He glanced down at my shoes. “Something tells me those weren’t made for strolling.”

“Actually, on the scale of heels, these are as stroll-worthy as they come. I know my limits. I’d love a walk.”

Jack gave me his coat. I didn’t argue. As I put it over my shoulders, he spoke to the valet. He got the keys back and directions to the parking garage for later. Then he slipped the young man a tip and led me down the restaurant steps. When we reached the bottom, his hand brushed mine. I took it, and we headed out.