The guest house was Aaron’s domain, but their Paradise Valley enclave was strictly off limits to Aaron’s flings. It was non-negotiable. Their lawyers had put it in writing and he’d readily agreed. As far as she knew, he’d never broken the agreement. Until now.

  So, who was this tart, showing up like she owned the place? She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, so maybe this wasn’t the first time she’d been to the casita. And what the hell was so important that Aaron would breach their agreement? None of it made any sense.

  Suzanne picked up her phone and tapped on Aaron’s contact, but paused before calling. She was tempted to give him an earful, but she knew he’d talk circles around her, and end up making her feel foolish.

  She whirled on her heel, slamming the door behind her, and stood in front of the stack of file boxes, anger solidifying her resolve. Her voice came out in a growl.

  “Aaron, if it’s a war you want, I’m just the one to deliver it.”

  9

  Home Invasion

  Tuesday, January 26

  Camelia’s direct line started ringing just after seven p.m. She hesitated at the thought of which client might be calling, but gave in on the third ring.

  “Cam, it’s Suzanne. Sorry to bother you so late, but something weird just happened.”

  “I can barely hear you. Why are you whispering?” Camelia asked.

  Suzanne cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m just . . . is this better?”

  “Much. What’s going on?”

  “I’m at the casita and—”

  “What? Why? If Aaron finds out, well, you know who you’re divorcing. Expect some backlash.”

  “I, um . . .” Suzanne paused.

  Camelia hated this part of her practice. Clients didn’t always take signed agreements, statutes, or even Court orders seriously, and then couldn’t understand why the judge was throwing the book at them. Suzanne had agreed the casita was for Aaron’s use only, at least until the divorce was final, so why was she there, whispering into the phone?

  “Okay, start at the top,” Camelia said. “And please don’t tell me he’s trying to seduce you.”

  “Oh god no, nothing like that,” Suzanne said. “And it might be nothing, but—”

  “If it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be calling me. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m furious, but I’m fine.” Suzanne heaved a sigh. “I just watched some blond pull into the driveway in a bright yellow Lexus and go into the casita. And what she left behind is just . . . odd.”

  “What do you mean?” Camelia pulled her legal pad closer and started taking notes. “Aaron had some woman over?”

  “No, Aaron wasn’t with her. But she sure seemed to know her way around.”

  “Where is she now?” Camelia asked.

  “She’s long gone, but she was here for a quite a while, maybe half an hour or so, then took off,” Suzanne said.

  “Could she be an assistant?”

  “It absolutely wasn’t Darla. And Aaron’s not even home. Which is even more strange, because whoever it is, he gave her the gate code and the entry code for the guest house. If Aaron gave her that kind of access, she must be pretty damned important.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “I don’t remember meeting her,” Suzanne said. “But there was something about her that screamed lawyer. I looked at the firm directory online, and I’m pretty sure she’s a senior associate named Kaitlyn Fischer.”

  Camelia tried to mask her sharp intake of breath. She made a note for Cate; she’d need ethics counsel to sort out whether she should—or could—tell Chris Fischer this little tidbit.

  “You said she left something behind?”

  “Yeah, a file. And a pair of underwear,” Suzanne said. “Seems awfully brazen, if you ask me.”

  “Did you call Aaron to ask him about it?”

  “No, I did not.” Suzanne huffed. “He knows the damn rules.”

  “So, you decided to break in?”

  “Hey, she was on my property. And she didn’t just drop something off. As I said, she was here for quite a while. And when she came back outside, she was wearing different clothes. I decided to see for myself what was going on,” Suzanne said. “Then I get down here, and can you believe it? Mrs. Fischer helped herself to a shower.”

  Camelia gasped. “She what?”

  “Yep. She took a shower. Weird, huh? So, I decided to see what else the little tart was up to. I found the folder on his desk and . . . it’s strange.”

  “Suzanne, hang on,” Camelia said. Her voice softened. “I doubt Aaron would be reckless enough to keep anything important or secret at the casita. But if you think there’s something you need to investigate, like a break in on the property . . .”

  When Suzanne chuckled, Camelia knew she’d understood.

  “I did witness a break and enter. It would make me feel so much safer if you could drop by. You know how the police are. It’s not an emergency, so they’ll just take their sweet time.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Camelia hung up and closed the file on her desk. She really just wanted to go home, kick off her shoes, and have a glass of wine. But whatever Suzanne had found might be important, and she needed to see for herself. She picked up her mobile phone to text Leon.

  Stopping at client’s in PV.

  Won’t be long. xo

  As she hurriedly packed up her bag, Camelia glanced at the time. It was almost seven thirty. With any luck, this would be a non-event and she’d be home by eight, eight-thirty at the latest.

  Twelve hour day. Again.

  The Anders’ hacienda style house was tucked up against the west-facing slope of a rocky hill, with the main house at the highest point of the property. Terraced flagstone walkways led down to the pool and, beyond that, the casita. Camelia parked in the crescent drive near the main house, inhaling deeply as she exited her car. She never got tired of the scent of the desert. She stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust. There wasn’t even a faint glow left on the horizon, but amber puddles lit the paths leading up to the house and down to the guest house.

  She threw her purse over her shoulder and headed left, toward the casita, her heels tapping loudly on the flagstone walk. As she approached, she inspected the heavy Spanish style door for a security camera. The last thing she needed was to be caught on video by Aaron Anders. She was still looking for a tell-tale red light when the door swung open.

  “Thanks for coming.” Suzanne beckoned Camelia inside.

  “Suzanne, before we go any further,” Camelia glanced around, “are we going to show up on your security cameras?”

  “He broke our agreement, so as far as I’m concerned, all bets are off.” Suzanne’s cheeks were flushed with anger. “I dare Aaron to make a fuss about it.”

  “That’s fine for you, but—”

  “Don’t worry. The camera system is controlled in the main house, and I turned it off before you got here. So, you’re in the clear. But he’ll know I was here, and I hope it drives him nuts.” Suzanne rolled her eyes and huffed an exasperated sigh. “Follow me.”

  Camelia followed Suzanne down a wide hall and turned into the first doorway on the left. The large study was lined with light oak bookshelves packed with legal tomes, and Mission style furniture upholstered in cognac leather.

  Very manly man.

  On the desktop was a brown pocket folder, typical of law offices everywhere.

  “Is this what you found?” Camelia said, pointing to the folder.

  Fear was wriggling around in Camelia’s belly. Suzanne was breaking a written agreement, enforceable by the Court. Camelia was now privy to that violation and yet, here she was, spurring Suzanne on, even though neither of them had any right to be here.

  “Yes. That little bitch had the nerve to come in here and just make herself at home. Like I told you, she took a shower and then left her wet towel on the bed, which will infuriate Aaron.” Suzanne smirked. “And that’s why I left it where it was.”

  “Suzanne, I get it. This is a really crappy situation.” Camelia would figure out how to use Kaitlyn Fischer’s visit to the casita to her advantage later. For now, learning more about this mysterious file was the urgent task at hand. This might be her only opportunity to get a peek at it, and the last thing she needed was Anders walking in on them. “But we need to focus for a minute. Why would this file be so important to Aaron that he had it delivered to his home?”

  “Beats me. It’s some kind of electronic device,” Suzanne said. “And there’s a thumb drive and some paperwork in the file as well. Receipts, a manual . . .”

  “But Aaron would have asked that this be delivered, right?”

  “I doubt it. Since he started the firm, not once has anyone from the office come to the house when Aaron wasn’t here,” Suzanne said. “He’s extremely picky about client confidentiality and, in case you missed it, he’s a total control freak. Then,” Suzanne continued, “after that scandal with that estate planning firm? He became obsessed.”

  “What scandal?” Camelia rifled through her memory.

  “Remember? Five or six years ago? A disgruntled office manager at—Wilson, Williams, something like that—tossed all the closed files in the dumpster behind the building, and a sanitation worker picked up several hundred client Social Security numbers?”

  “Oh yeah. We all got a sternly worded notice from the State Bar about file retention and destruction policies,” Camelia said.

  “Yeah, well, that’s when Aaron hired a Chief Security Officer and came up with a strict procedure. No one is supposed to carry a paper file out of the office unless they’re headed to Court. He sure as hell wouldn’t leave a client file in the casita, and he would never give anyone the house codes,” Suzanne said, emphatically. “This is all very suspicious.”

  “So what’s in the file?”

  “I have no idea. Here,” Suzanne said, plucking a padded envelope from the folder. She handed it to Camelia. “You tell me.”

  Camelia pulled the device from the shipping envelope, squinting at the writing on the bottom.

  “Sheridan Electronics. I don’t have a clue.” She set the device on the desk and picked up the file. “This could be privileged client information and, if so, neither of us has any business looking at it. If it pertains to the divorce, we’ll do a formal discovery request. If not . . . let’s just keep it between us, okay?”

  Suzanne nodded as Camelia flipped the folder open.

  “These docs are Bates stamped as exhibits,” Camelia said. She flipped through the papers, separated by colored slip sheets.

  “Right, but why would he need those delivered here?”

  “No idea. Credit card statement.” Camelia flipped back to the first page. “The only charge is for some kind of traffic light thing. That must be what this doohickey is.”

  “Well, it’s probably for one of their cases,” Suzanne said. “Sometimes Aaron recreates a scenario for the jury, and when he does, he orders all kinds of crazy junk. One time he brought an entire 50-gallon drum of motor oil to Court and dumped it in a kiddie pool to make his point. This is nothing to do with us.”

  “Wait. Let’s make sure.” Camelia flipped to the next sheaf of papers. “There’s a warranty, user’s manual, a receipt for whatever this thing is, and a flash drive. And what’s this?”

  Camelia pulled out a handwritten note on an AndersLaw notepad.

  A ~ Sheridan Gambit research for your review. XX K

  She handed the note to Suzanne. “Any idea what this is about?”

  “Good grief. Who knows? And really? Kiss kiss? Is she twelve?”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of embarrassing,” Camelia conceded. “But it looks like this is for a case that has nothing to do with your divorce.”

  “You’re right. But why the hell would she take a shower?” Suzanne shook her head in disbelief. She beckoned Camelia to follow her. “Come here a second. You have to see this.”

  Camelia followed her across the hall to a spacious bedroom looking out onto a courtyard. Suzanne flipped on the lights and pointed at the floor where a hot pink thong was abandoned on the rug.

  “She left her damned underwear! It’s like she’s marking her territory. So, maybe she’s comfortable showering here because it’s not the first time. Maybe that bastard’s been sneaking her in right under my nose all along. I mean, who knows? Maybe they—”

  “Suzanne!” Camelia could see the signs of a meltdown coming. “We don’t have any evidence of that, and imagining those scenarios will only drive you crazy. We know Aaron’s been having affairs, so that’s nothing new. It’s really shitty behavior, but it’s not against the law. Let’s focus on what’s in front of us.”

  Camelia snapped a couple of photos with her phone, then turned and walked back to the office, as Suzanne trailed behind her.

  “Okay, your security camera footage will prove someone was here. Most likely Kaitlyn Fischer. So, aside from Aaron possibly breaking the no visitors clause—”

  “What do you mean possibly? She was here!” Suzanne’s voice pitched up.

  “Yes, but technically she was not Aaron’s guest, because Aaron wasn’t even here. A guest requires a host. If I were his attorney, I would argue there was no breach of the agreement.” Camelia turned toward the door. “And the file is unrelated, irrelevant to your divorce, so I can’t see a reason to pursue it.”

  “Maybe not, but there’s someone who can tell us for sure. Dov Saminski, Aaron’s Chief Security Officer. I reviewed his HR file today and flagged it for you to look at. Honestly, I think he’s a fixer of some sort.” Suzanne pushed her hair behind her ears. “I bet he knows all kinds of secret stuff, including all the women Aaron’s been sleeping around with. If I can just get him to talk.”

  “A fixer?” Camelia was curious about why Suzanne used that word. “Why on earth would Aaron need someone like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Suzanne shrugged. “Like I said, he’s paranoid. Lawyer shootings, computer hacks, corporate espionage . . . all that stuff just sends him into orbit. And, if Dov knows everything about the firm and Aaron’s professional life, he’ll damn sure know the personal stuff, too.”

  “Hmm. So, is this Saminski guy someone I should depose?”

  “Well, he works for Aaron. Not sure you’ll get much out of him, but you can try,” Suzanne said.

  Camelia didn’t bother explaining that’s what depositions were for as she arranged the items on the desk. “And I will. But right now, I’m gonna take some pics, in case this comes up later.” She finished taking photos and dropped her phone in her handbag, then scooped up the paperwork, flash drive, and device, placing them all back in the folder. “Okay, how about we skedaddle before Aaron gets home?”

  “Good idea,” Suzanne said, walking down the hall toward the front door. “Because he does not want to hear what I have to say right now.”

  Suzanne locked the door behind Camelia. As they walked up the broad, terraced steps toward the main house, she couldn’t help but notice Suzanne struggling for breath.

  “Are you doing okay? I mean, health wise?”

  “Yeah, it’s just the chemo. I don’t have as much stamina as I used to. Among other things. But considering the alternative, I’m fine.” Suzanne’s eyes were hidden in the shadows. “Hey, look at that.” She pointed up and Camelia followed her finger to a fat full moon rising over Camelback Mountain.

  “One of the best things about living in the desert, isn’t it? These great, clear skies,” Camelia said. “Okay, I’m going to take off—”

  “Can I offer you a glass of wine? It’s the least I can do.”

  Camelia pulled her coat closer as the night air settled around her neck.

  “I’d love to, but Leon’s holding dinner. Rain check?” Camelia opened her car door before she could change her mind.

  “Of course, any time. And thanks again for coming by. I’ll get the rest of these documents reviewed in the next couple of days,” Suzanne said.

  Camelia cranked up the heat in her car as she idled down the driveway, suddenly feeling more cheerful.

  I did it!

  She felt a rush of accomplishment at having turned down the offer of wine. Maybe she could do this sober thing after all. All she had to do was refuse the next glass of wine. And the next.

  As she approached the gate, it was already sliding open. She thought Suzanne had opened it remotely until she realized there was a car waiting on the other side.

  Camelia drove through the gate as the black Porsche Panamera drove slowly past, the driver side window down. Aaron glared at her, his mouth a grim line that tightened even more when Camelia waved at him as she rolled by.

  Maybe not today, but you’ll get yours, asshole.

  She paused at the approach to the street and pulled out her phone to text Suzanne.

  Heads up! Aaron’s home.

  “Anybody home?” Camelia called into the silent house. Nothing.

  She kicked off her shoes, walked to the back of the house, and changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. When she came back into the kitchen, she saw the note stuck to the fridge.

  Walking the boys. Dinner’s in the oven.

  How long until Leon returned? She had no way to know. Their dog walks were usually 45 minutes, but she didn’t know when he’d left. She glanced at the note again.

  Fuck it. I deserve a reward.

  Camelia jerked open the freezer and wrapped her hand around the icy neck of a bottle of vodka. She was just pulling it out of the freezer when she heard the back door bang open and frantic panting as their two rescue mutts, Calvin and Caesar, raced to the kitchen. She shoved the bottle back and slammed the freezer door.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  “Are these my good boys? Where’s your daddy? Who wants a treat?” Camelia devolved into baby talk.

  “Daddy’s right here and I could use a treat, too,” Leon said. He pulled Camelia into his arms. “Long day, huh?”

 

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