Page 8 of Salem’s Fall (Dark Seasons Thriller #3)

T he next few days are packed with research and drafting motions and discovery requests for our case. Damien’s trial is set for early April, which sounds far off, but actually isn’t all that much time to prepare for a trial of this magnitude.

The media circus hasn’t let up since Damien’s high-profile arrest and bail hearing; it’s only gotten worse. Every major newspaper in New England is covering the story, and Damien’s name is plastered daily across every local news channel. Public fascination is at a fever pitch.

I still can’t shake the nagging feeling that this whole thing is unraveling before we’ve even begun.

Every night, I lie awake wondering if I made the wrong call agreeing to stay on—not that Quinn or the firm gave me much of a choice.

Mark has been insufferable as well, of course.

Every chance he gets to make me look dumb or incompetent, he takes.

The guy lives to make me feel like I don’t belong on the team.

Tuesday morning, he waits for me by my desk as I walk inside the office, smug and arrogant as ever. Before I can even set my tote bag down and grab my morning coffee, he’s already on me .

“Got an exciting new assignment for you,” he says with mock enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” I ask, already dreading the answer. No way this is going to be good for me. Not with that insufferably pleased look on his face.

“Quinn and I are going to meet with the DA tomorrow, so we’re busy with more important matters.

Here,” he says as he hands me two enormous, bulging file folders.

“Someone needs to track down the security tapes. You remember—the ones from the Museum Gala and the office building where they found the knife?”

“You really think we’re going to find anything?

We don’t even know if they still have the tapes from the party,” I say with a sneaking suspicion this is busy work, designed to keep me on some wild goose chase, far away from the real case work.

“And as for the building, someone could’ve dumped that knife months ago, right?

Even if they have security tapes, when would we even start looking? ”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time to play Twenty Questions with you, Woodsen,” he says, voice filled with annoyance, as if speaking to me is a personal burden.

“Can you handle this without screwing it up, or should I call Holly? I’m sure even a secretary could manage something this simple. ”

I grit my teeth. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good girl. Try not to make a mess this time.”

As he walks away, I let out a groan of frustration. As if it isn’t bad enough being on a case I’m almost certain we’re going to lose, I have to be on it with this pompous asshole.

Still, if there’s no other option and I’m stuck on this team, I’m determined to blow Quinn’s mind with how good I am at whatever scraps Mark throws me. Blackhollow’s, too—not that I care what he thinks.

Well, not much anyway .

I thumb through the files Mark has left for me, focusing on the task at hand. First up: the tapes from the museum’s All Hallows Gala.

It doesn’t take me long to find a phone number for the museum.

Mark—or more likely one of the secretaries—pulled the entire directory.

Mark has highlighted a few contacts for me that look promising.

I start at the top with Sherri Baker, Executive Director.

One thing I’ve learned, it’s always best to go directly to the highest person in charge.

After a few rings, a bored-sounding woman picks up.

“Sherri Baker. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Sherri, this is James Woodsen with Whitehall & Rowe,” I say in my most professional-sounding voice. “I’m working on a case, and we have reason to believe you may have evidence relevant to the matter. We need to obtain security footage from your All Hallows Gala that took place last Halloween.”

There’s a long pause, and I can practically hear the woman on the other end rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t just hand over security footage to anyone who asks.”

“Yes, I understand, but it’s part of an active criminal investigation,” I explain, keeping my tone steady. “It’s important that we?—”

“Sorry,” she interrupts, “but you’ll need to go through the proper channels.

Get a subpoena.” She makes an annoyed huffing sound, and I hear papers shuffling in the background.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got the annual Gala coming up in less than three weeks and simply don’t have time for this. ”

“But—”

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone in disbelief.

Well, that was rude.

It’s barely 9 a.m. and I’m already at my first dead end. Good thing I don’t give up easily. In a burst of ingenuity, I send out a quick text to my best friend Katie asking her to meet up. It’s a long shot, but if it plays out like I hope it will, it might solve everything.

A few hours later, I head to the Sidebar downtown to grab drinks with Katie.

Sidebar was one of our favorite hangouts when we were in law school.

We had a lot of good times there, along with our other best friend, Jess Foster.

Jess—the friend I no longer talk to after I caught her in bed with my scumbag ex-boyfriend, William.

The place is packed as I walk in, the noise and energy from the crowd filling the air. A few men catcall as I pass by, offering to buy me drinks. I ignore them, my eyes locked on my best friend, sitting at our usual table near the back of the bar.

Katherine Tang is striking as usual, even in her minimalist, effortless style: trim and athletic, dark brown hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, accentuating sharp cheekbones and piercing brown eyes.

Tonight, she wears one of her signature plaid blazers over a sleek silk blouse, paired with fitted pants and Hermès leather loafers.

Always polished yet understated. The kind of wealth that doesn’t need to announce itself.

A small pair of pearl stud earrings and her grandmother’s antique gold Rolex watch, an heirloom from their Beijing diplomatic lineage, are her only accessories.

“Hey, bestie. Been way too long,” I say and give her a big hug before grabbing the vodka soda she ordered for me. “Sorry I’m late. Quinn caught me just as I was leaving the office.”

“Oh yeah?” Her brow lifts with a suggestive tilt. “Caught you how ?”

“Ha ha. Not like that.” I grin. “Just more work for our new case. He wants me to research a few new things for tomorrow morning. ”

“You’re so lucky,” she grumbles. “You get Brad Pitt’s younger—and even hotter—lookalike for a partner, and I have Jabba the Hut at my office.”

I laugh. “The DA isn’t that bad.”

“Oh yes, he is,” she says. “If only Quinn was my boss, the things I’d do to him.” She sighs dreamily. “It’s really wasted on you, you know.”

“Come on, Katie. He doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Oh, please.” She snorts into her martini. “Quinn has it bad for you, and you know it. You’re both just too damn stubborn to do anything about it.”

After a few more minutes of drinking and catching up on the usual biggies—work, life, family stuff—Katie’s demeanor shifts. She sips at her drink slowly and looks at me with a sincere, sympathetic smile.

“James, I just… I want you to know, I had no idea about Jess and William. I was shocked when I heard. If I had known, I would’ve done something—” She pauses, fidgeting with the stem of her martini glass. “You know that, right? You know I’m on your side?”

I reach out and squeeze her hand across the table.

“Yeah, of course I do, Katie. I know you’d never betray me like that.” I smile, though it’s tinged with bitterness. “Honestly, it’s fine. William was… well, pathetic is the polite word for it. Clingy, spoiled, and way too possessive. He never could handle that my work mattered to me.”

“Yeah, screw William. He’s a man-child, and you’re so much better off without him.

” She pauses and gives me a long, serious look.

“But to be fair, you do tend to prioritize work over everyone else—even the people who really do matter. I mean, I’ve barely seen you in weeks,” she says with a small shrug.

“And… Maddie’s been calling me. She’s lonely, James.

I know she seems all grown up, but she isn’t.

She still needs her big sister every now and then. ”

“I know. You’re right.” I look down, swirling the ice in my drink, a twinge of guilt creeping in. “Things have been so crazy at work, but I’ll try to be better. Really, I will.”

I give her a strained smile. It’s a promise I want to keep, but we both know how it’ll end. Work will always come first.

“So,” I say, trying to sound casual. It’s time to get to the real reason I asked Katie to meet me tonight. “Have you heard anything about the Damien Blackhollow case?”

She lets out a loud snort, thumping her hand on the wooden table. “You little sneak!” she says, swiping playfully at my shoulder. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“I heard you were on that.” She chuckles. “So that’s why you dragged me here? I thought we were catching up, not working.”

“We are, Katie!” I attempt to give her my most sincere smile. “I just thought you might have heard something. You know, since you work in the DA’s office and all.”

“I’m not on the Blackhollow case, James. It’s way too high-profile for a first year.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “But yeah, sure, I’ve heard bits and pieces. Everyone has. The entire office is buzzing about it.”

She takes a long sip of her drink before her eyes flick over my shoulder, and she leans in closer.

“Okay, so not to sound like a complete degenerate, but… Damien Blackhollow?” She lets out a low whistle.

“Jesus! That man is, like, objectively yumable. If he wasn’t, you know, a big ol’ lady killer.

” She scoots her chair in closer. “Tell me the truth, he’s even sexier in person, isn’t he? I bet he smells amazing too!”