Part 11 (2/2)

Then she stood.

Whatever had killed him had done so with all the security in place. Would it have been easier to kill him without the security? Or did the killer like a challenge?

She had a hunch she'd find out.

16.

Flint made it to Van Alen's office in record time. Two squads blocked the entry, so he parked in the lot and took the back elevator. On the way, he told Talia that if he caught her touching any computers in Van Alen's office, he would tell Van Alen.

”So?” Talia said defiantly.

”So you don't want to go head-to-head with Maxine Van Alen,” he said.

”She won't get mad at me,” Talia said as the elevator doors opened onto the main floor, ”she'll get mad at you.”

Then she stepped into the large reception area. Flint smiled at her back. She was probably right. He kept forgetting the way other people perceived children-the way he used to perceive them before Talia had come into his life.

Usually the reception area was full of junior a.s.sociates, a.s.sistants, and young successful lawyers hurrying from one important case to another. People were constantly talking, and constantly moving. But not now. The human receptionist-an affectation that Van Alen insisted on-was the only one in the large area.

”Mr. Flint,” she said as she stood. ”Ms. Van Alen is in a situation.”

Not with a client or in a meeting. Flint found that to be an interesting choice of words. ”I have a meeting with her,” he said like he was supposed to, ”and I think I'm a few minutes late.”

”I don't recall. . . .” The receptionist bent over the clear screen that rose from part of her desk. ”Oh. You're right. It's marked urgent. I'm to send you right back.”

Flint nodded as he headed toward the back. Talia walked beside him until they reached the reception desk.

The receptionist put her hand out. ”I'm afraid only Mr. Flint can go back there.”

”She's my daughter,” he said. ”She comes with me.”

The receptionist's eyes widened just a bit. She apparently had no idea that Talia had come into Flint's life.

He tried to remember if he had ever brought Talia here before. Probably not. He usually came while she was in school. He didn't want her to know about this part of his life.

He didn't want her to know about a lot of his life and his work. She didn't need to. It put her in danger. The back, which usually bustled as much as the front, seemed calm as well, but in a different way. Attorneys, a.s.sistants, and some clients stood in the corridor, arms crossed, staring down the hallway.

A man's voice echoed through the normally quiet area.

”Ms. Van Alen, please. Tell them. They can't arrest me. I didn't do anything wrong.”

Then there was silence. Flint couldn't tell whether that was because Van Alen was answering or someone else was speaking.

Talia looked at him. Flint put a hand on her back and propelled her forward. ”Sir,” one of the attorneys said, ”I don't think you should go back there.” ”Maxine's expecting me,” he said. He continued to walk past the a.s.sociates. They all looked nervous. A few stepped aside as he pa.s.sed.

The corridor narrowed before it opened into the waiting area that was exclusively Van Alen's. Four police officers stood near the corridor, and more were inside Van Alen's office.

A man Flint didn't recognize stood near Van Alen's desk. He was beefy and red faced, and he looked scared.

Van Alen stood near the waiting room couch, staring into her office. Two more officers stood inside. They looked like street cops. Flint didn't see a detective, which surprised him. He would have expected to see one, given what Van Alen had told him.

”You can't arrest me,” the man was saying. ”I'm in a law office.”

”That doesn't give you immunity,” one of the officers said. ”Especially when the office is the one who called us.”

”Is that true?” The man looked at Van Alen. ”I came here as a favor to you.”

She didn't say anything. Flint couldn't read her face. She seemed calm, but she often put on that demeanor when she was the most nervous.

Talia glanced up at Flint again, as if he should do something. He let his hand drop from her back and stepped around her.

”Maxine,” he said as he walked into the waiting area.

Van Alen looked over her shoulder. For a brief second, he thought she seemed relieved. ”Miles.” ”I came for our meeting.”

”We have a situation,” she said.

”I can see that.” He wasn't sure what she wanted him to do. Everyone faced him, though, as if he were the authority in the room.

The officers seemed uncomfortable. They probably weren't used to being in a law office. Considering their training, they probably weren't certain what to do. They knew how to handle problems on the street and in other businesses, but they had been taught to give too much respect to lawyers.

”I used to be a detective with the Armstrong P.D.,” Flint said to Van Alen, even though she already knew that. He knew the cops didn't. ”Do you want me to see what I can do?”

One of the officers said, ”No offense, sir, but if you're no longer with the department, then we'll have to ask you to step back.”

But Flint continued to look at Van Alen. ”Maybe I can mediate. It seems like you're at an impa.s.se here.” She looked from the officers to the man in her office.

”Give us a minute,” she said to the police.

They stepped back. That, too, was part of the training and Van Alen clearly knew it. She went into her office and nodded at the officers. They walked out.

”Stay here, Talia,” Flint said.

”Da-ad.” She looked frightened. She had no idea what was going on and he wasn't going to tell her. ”The officers will keep an eye on you.”

”But-”

He didn't listen to her protest. Instead, he stepped into the office with Van Alen and the man from Whitford Security.

”I don't need a mediator,” the man said. ”I didn't expect a lawyer to call the cops.”

”Doors down,” Van Alen said. She stood close to the doors, though, as if she didn't want to get near this man.

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