Part 13 (1/2)
”If only you had a medical tattoo...” Dan deadpanned from behind her.
”Conflict of interest,” she answered automatically, as she always did.
He chuckled, a rumble like an avalanche. ”Except that half the judges and more than half the jurors we argue in front of have med-tats.”
”Yeah, well.”
”Remember that one we argued, which was it, the fourth? Fifth-?”
”Fifth.”
”Where-yeah, fifth-where the entire jury had med-tats?”
”I've got it under control. My epi-pen works fine.”
”So get the tat and keep your epi-pen.”
”Can't. They won't renew the 'script. Risk of overdose. I know the arguments, Dan, I just can't bring myself to trust my life to something I can't control.”
”You? Control issues? Nah.” He laughed, but his voice was low and serious when he added, ”Someday it won't work, Indi.”
In the lobby behind them, the commotion peaked. Screeching cries of fear pierced the roar of mingled voices. Indira turned, but Dan threw an arm out in front of her.
”Careful.”
Uniformed security and plainclothesman policemen rushed in as a man broke free from the crowd. For one frantic moment he met Indira's eye. Then someone crashed into him from behind and he went down with a thud.
”Well, that's not going to be good,” Dan said.
Dan perched on the edge of her desk, arms crossed lazily.
”You won't believe what it was.”
Indira raised an eyebrow.
”Some whacked-out protestor tried to spray the crowd with ricin loaded into an epi-pen. Don't worry, it didn't discharge.”
Indira had logged many hours of practice at schooling her expression, but incredulity broke through now. ”What kind of sick-wait. An epi-pen?”
Dan snorted. ”Yeah. Guess we'll be using crayons in court from now on. Security will probably start confiscating everything pointy at the door.”
Indira gave him a long look of exasperation.
Dan grimaced. ”Yeah. I thought of that. I'm sure you can get some kind of exemption, right?”
”I'm sure.” Indira kept her thoughts to herself. She knew he was concerned about her, but he was also looking a little smug about his prediction coming true.
”It'll work out, you'll see.” He stood and rapped his knuckles twice on her desk. ”See you tomorrow.”
”Yeah.”
”I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't take that in.”
Indira scowled at the epi-pen in the guard's hand, to keep herself from scowling at the young man who held her medicine hostage. It wasn't his fault. Suited lawyers and nervous family members murmured behind her, s.h.i.+fting in a restless herd while she held up the line.
”Come on, Ari. Yesterday I was Indira and today I'm 'ma'am'? I have a note from my physician right here. It's biometrically notarized. You know I need it for my perfume allergy; you check it through every day.”
The young man looked around for help. ”I'm sorry. Maybe you can speak to my manager. She left for a meeting about fifteen minutes ago. She should be back in an hour, maybe?”
”I can't wait that long. I'm due in court in twenty minutes.”
He shrugged, a dull red creeping up his face and ears. The din behind Indira was growing louder and more frustrated. ”I'm sorry.”
”Fine,” she said, picking up her carry bag, sans epi-pen, and slinging the strap over her shoulder with a frustrated jerk. ”Keep it. Can I go in now?”
”Yes, ma'am.”
Dan waited for her inside the checkpoint. He matched her angry strides easily with his long legs. ”You sure that's a good idea, hotshot?”
”Nothing's happened in months.”
”Yeah.” His answer was subdued, doubtful, and his face settled into the frown that was his normal expression. Indira was glad. It made people get out of their way.
The morning session was what Dan liked to call a ”defense attorney's yacht-payment” session. Hours of quibbling over minor details, accomplis.h.i.+ng nothing. By the time they broke for lunch, Indira was getting a headache. As she exited the courtroom, a woman stopped in front of her so quickly Indira almost crashed into her.
”Miss Chang. I didn't expect to have the pleasure of seeing you today. I was worried that all the fuss yesterday would delay our case.”
Heather Gannon was the CEO of Gannon & Perez, developer and manufacturer of pharmaceutical and diagnostic tattoo technology. She wore a pale yellow suit with a string of pearls at her perfect throat. Somehow she managed to carry off the Stepford Wife look without losing one bit of her ferocity as a businesswoman. Indira couldn't help but notice that she made it look s.e.xy, too. Too bad that was a real conflict of interest, and anyway, Gannon and Lucy Perez had been married since before they started the company.
”No. We're still scheduled for this afternoon. If you'll excuse me, I-”
The familiar itch started in her throat, around her eyes and mouth. Indira sucked in a strangled gasp. Already her throat was tightening. There wasn't enough air. A hot flush swept her and she staggered back into Dan.
”Indira? Oh, G.o.d. Someone call 911!”
Indira woke, groggy and itchy. Her heart stuttered in a moment's panic before she realized that it wasn't the itch preceding an attack, but the more general, pervasive itch of pain medication. She became slowly aware of the all-too-familiar steady beep, and the cold, antiseptic smell of a hospital.
d.a.m.n.
The deputy DA sat at her bedside, leafing through a magazine. ”You're up,” Rowan said, trying to hide his worry behind a shaky smile. He'd been her boss almost since she'd pa.s.sed the bar, and was as much friend as colleague. ”Glad you're back with us.”
”Thanks. Me, too. What's the status of my cases?”
Rowan raised a brow. ”Considering you nearly died, maybe you can give yourself a couple hours' recess before you start talking work again, counselor?”
”It was just an allergic reaction.”