The older BMW jerked to the sound of gears grinding when Beverly mistimed the coordination between her left foot on the clutch and her right hand on the shifter. The hint of a frown crossed her face before transitioning to determination as she pulled onto the off ramp. A quick glance behind her showed an angry driver flashing their headlights at her sudden turn but the temporary paper license plate taped to the back window blocked most of it. She rolled her eyes as she took the turn too fast and her tires thudded over the small bumps on the inside lane.
Interstate traffic gave way to lonely buildings in the industrial district. Steam and smoke and other chemicals billowed out of stacks arrayed around the area. She half-listened to the mapping program on her phone as it gave out quiet, calm directions to her workplace. After a little over two weeks, she still didn't have the route memorized.
Another shift as her foot pivoted on the stiletto heel. Her gray skirt whispered on the cool leather of her seat while she turned left, passing a dog boarding facility and a heavy equipment rental center after that.
Three blocks later, she caught sight of her workplace. The tiny, well-worn building housed Harris, Clark, Williams & Peters P.S. - none of which were her name.
"I'll just have to change that," she told herself as she turned, once more too sharp, into the parking lot. She smirked at the car parked away from the building while easing into the spot recently reserved for her in the shadow of the tiny structure.
It was her first day back since the decision in the
Price v. Rex Construction
and she was still riding high from her first big win. While small compared to what the rest of the office was used to dealing with, it was major for her and sure to be her first step on the stairs up. She'd just have to push a few old white men aside, first.
Stepping out to the ticking of her cooling engine, she breathed shallowly with the back of her hand near her nose. The area wasn't chosen for its charming location - something else she told herself she'd change once she moved up. It couldn't be too much more to lease a building downtown and surely the clients they would attract in the new location would offset the increase.
"Good morning, Ms. Tills," the receptionist said robotically, barely looking up from her computer to give the greeting. The girl, Charlie as she liked to be called, had dropped all pretenses of cordiality shortly after Beverly started working with her.
"Any meetings today?" Beverly asked. She knew she didn't have any but she wanted to exert a little dominance over the woman for her impertinence. Most of her day would consist of filling out her heavily padded billed time for Rex Construction and reviewing notes for her next case on the docket for Wednesday morning.
"No," Charlie said, finally looking up. The curly ends of her short, platinum blonde hair bounced against her slim cheeks when she turned to the edge of the counter before her. "You did receive a letter this morning, however."
"Thank you," Beverly said with a smile that she fixed in place as she grabbed the plain envelope from the sectioned tray.
Robotic as ever, bitch,
Beverly thought, her smile widening to show teeth.
She walked through the short hallway, surrounded by the silence of early morning. As usual, Mr. Peters' light was on. He was the only partner in the office this early and she assumed he'd still be working through the apocalypse and complaining about the noise of people dying and bombs going off.
Her own office was small with a wrap around desk and slim monitor. Filing cabinets lined the wall behind her but she ignored them as always, setting her heavy backpack down against the side of her desk before sitting in her hand-me-down rolling chair.
Beverly surveyed her desk, sighing at the mess she'd left for herself. She bumped her mouse and her monitor woke, the reflective black surface giving way to pale blue light that shined on the black keyboard before it.
The letter had no return address and was hand lettered to her attention at her work address. Her eyes passed over the uncanceled stamp in the top right as she turned it over. Nothing was written on the back and it was self-sealed.
She tapped the letter on her keyboard while staring through the drawn shades. Finally, she slipped a long fingernail under the flap and opened it to reveal a plain, folded piece of computer paper.
Two sentences were written in simple block lettering that matched the writing on the envelope:
You lied and cheated your way through court and now my dead son will never rest. You're nothing but a parasite feeding on those less fortunate.
Unseen to her, a faint white glow emanated from the page she held in her hands. She shook her head at the letter and then crumbled it up before tossing it into the blue recycle bin next to the trashcan beneath her desk.
There was no signature on the letter but she knew immediately who it was - the father of the Price boy who was killed onsite while working for Rex Construction.
Fast movement at the very corner of her eye made her jerk her head sharply. An incredibly thin line appeared in her iris. It grew, slicing down through the dark brown before connecting to the end that had spread into her white sclera. It formed a thin, oval secondary lense that gave a skewed view of the floor beneath her. A similar line appeared in her other eye and the two shapes slowly pushed outward into miniscule mud-brown circles. She rubbed at her temple as a few more lines appeared and the bone of her eye sockets pushed against her brow. Her eyelids bulged to contain her now-swollen eyes.
The firm was sure she'd lose so they didn't mind giving her the case. Skimming through the material she had, she realized they were correct. So, she'd invited opposing counsel to discuss the case. She'd pretended to be surprised to learn he'd graduated from the same college she'd gone to, despite having done as much research on him as possible. He knew his basics but the Pierce family was not wealthy and their lawyer's ability reflected that.
She flirted with him subtly but he was resistant. Instead, she found a reason to keep him talking and offered to have food delivered. Just by "chance", she had a bottle of wine in her office. And then another when they finished that one. And a third.
He'd fucked her on her desk, late in the evening. Drunk and post-coital, she'd encouraged him to muse about the case and he'd gladly obliged, mentioning a significant medicated condition the deceased had. She'd used that and a few other things he'd mentioned to cast just enough doubt for the jury. He knew what he'd done and he'd stood silently, avoiding her sideways glance as the judge read the verdict.
The man was a shitty lawyer but, despite fumbling around and being unattractive, he was moderately skilled at sex. And she'd enjoyed the thrill of the taboo. And he
had
