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  Chapter 1

  “--and so, my client has suffered not only emotional damages at the hand of the defendant following his attack on her dog, but she has also suffered financially as she made sure Cupcake received the proper treatment to survive the poisoning.” I gave a small sweep of my hands, and the gesture was open and easy. “The evidence I’ve presented here today makes that more than apparent, Your Honor.”

  Judge Calhoun shifted in his seat, and I held my breath as I waited for his response. By the time Abby approached me for help, I’d encountered the judge a few times, not more than I could count on one hand, but a few. I didn’t think I had ever seen him so much as slouch, and he definitely wasn’t now. He had the straightest posture for a man that I’d ever seen, and his face sagged in the same way a bulldog’s face sagged, with deep lines furrowing his brow and darkly tanned skin.

  Finally, he set his jowls and gave a slow nod of his head, and the breath whooshed out of me at once.

  Abby glanced my way with her eyes wide, and her hands had gone paper-white in the folds of her dress, so I offered a small, genuine smile to her.

  When she came knocking on my office door to ask me to take on her case, she told me she found my name from a Google search about pro bono work. She’d also told me she came because I looked like the sort of man who didn’t take too kindly to the sort of man who tries to hurt a little dog.

  She was right.

  Judge Calhoun scrubbed his palm along his jaw, and he glanced at Abby and I before looking over at the defense lawyer and Abby’s ex.

  I knew the defense better than I knew Calhoun. Martin Decker, Marty for short, was a rail thin, wisp of a man. He dressed exclusively in three-piece suits with a bolo tie, like the sort of cowboy lawyer you’d see on television, minus the build to fill it out, and he’d decided a few trials ago that we weren’t the sort of pals to go out and grab a beer.

  The ex-boyfriend was new to me, but I’d seen his sort before. He carried himself like a mean dog on a tiny leash.

  “Well,” Judge Calhoun said with a belly-deep sigh, “I find the defendant liable for paying the damages requested to Miss Jackson for the financial losses as well as emotional damage.”

  Then he banged the gavel against his desk, and the thud resounded around his small chambers.

  Beside me, Abby’s hands flew to her mouth, and she gave a small sob as her shoulders shook with what I knew was relief. She’d spent most of our time together showing me pictures of Cupcake in various little tutus and tiaras, and she clearly loved that dog more than she’d ever loved her ex-boyfriend.

  I gave my own sigh of relief. I didn’t know how I would have slept at night if we hadn’t gotten Cupcake justice. While I was usually the sort to go for big dogs, the kind of dogs you have to pat instead of pet, I’d developed a bit of a soft spot for the yorkie and her little hair clips.

  “You know,” Martin started. He’d raised his voice enough to be heard over Abby’s elated sobbing, and he snapped his monogrammed briefcase closed with a sharp click. “If you keep working for free, you’ll have to downsize that office from ‘shoebox’ to ‘matchbox’.”

  Then he smiled, but it was all teeth and oversized gums.

  For some reason, the expression didn’t feel particularly kind.

  I shifted on my heels and half-turned toward him, and then I pushed my free hand up through my sandy hair and swept it back from my forehead.

  “Have you ever heard of doing a good deed?” I countered, and I smiled to keep myself from scowling. “You should try it sometime, might help you sleep a little better at night.”

  Martin scoffed and rolled his eyes, and beside him, the ex-boyfriend was babbling about something just low enough I couldn’t quite make it out, despite how close together we all were. If I were a betting man, I’d have put my money on the exchange being less than pleasant.

  “No, sorry, I probably can’t hear it over the sound of my checks cashing.” Martin smiled again, and his small eyes crinkled. It still wasn’t a kind gesture.

  Then he reached up to clap his hand onto my shoulder, but I took a slight step back to shake his hand off. We weren’t that close.

  Marty sighed. “You’re going to run yourself deeper into the ground before you even get above ground, Archer. And when you do, I’ll be first in line to say ‘I told you so.’”

  I watched as Marty gave a shake of his head and reached over to grab his client by the shoulder, and he began to steer the still grumbling man out of the chambers.

  I turned my attention back to Abby as she wiped at her eyes and gave a loud sniffle, but the smile on her face was blinding.

  “Thank you, Archer,” she said. Her voice was a little watery, but I could tell just how much she meant it.

  I returned her smile and extended my crooked elbow toward her, and she nodded her head in a show of gratitude before the two of us began to exit Calhoun’s chambers.

  “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out, alright?” I gently tugged my arm from her hand as I turned to push the chamber door open with my back, and I swept my hand toward the courthouse’s hall.

  Abby nodded again as she continued to smile. “Well, actually, if you’re free on cases right now, I think I have one I could send your way?”

  Her thin eyebrows arched as she posed the question, and I stepped into the hall after her and let the heavy wooden door swing shut behind us.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but she didn’t wait for my answer before she continued on.

  “My cousin, Clara, she’s a nurse up at Cook Children’s Med Center in Fort Worth.” She paused, like she was waiting for some sort of recognition on my part, so I offered her a nod and urged her to continue as I led her down the hall. “Well, she’s been looking for a good lawyer. There’s been something going on in her neighborhood.”

  I slowed my pace to keep up with Abby’s shorter legs as we weaved through the courthouse, and the curious little voice in the back of my mind came out before the part of my mind that needed to pay his bills could stop it.

  “What’s going on in her neighborhood?” I asked, and Abby and I stepped out the swinging front doors of Crowley City Court into the sweltering sun as it beat down on the cracked sidewalk.

  She furrowed her delicate brow and pursed her lips, and I noticed the lipstick she wore had started to fuzz out at the edges.

  “That’s the thing, I don’t really know. She’s been real tight-lipped about it for some reason, but I think it’s got something to do with her daughter.” She slowed to a stop on the courthouse steps, and she looked up at me as her teeth worried at her lower lip. “Could I give her your number?”

  Something in my chest sagged. I knew then that I wouldn’t tell her no, so I didn’t. I just sighed, slid my hand into my pocket, turned my eyes up to the sky for a moment, and squinted into the sun.

  “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Tell her that the best time to reach me is before dinner, though, alright?” I would answer my phone no matter the time of day, but it felt like I needed to set some sort of boundaries.

  I could practically hear Marty’s voice in my mind telling me I should kiss my practice goodbye if I kept this sort of thing up, but if someone needed help, the least I could do was try.

  And if they could pay? Well, that w
as even better.

  “I’m glad you said that, because I already sent it to her.” Abby wrinkled her nose with a smile. “You’re a good man, Archer Landon. I can tell. I’ve got a good eye for people. I knew you’d say yes.”

  I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Maybe I’m just a sucker. Now, go on, get home to Cupcake and share the good news.”

  I gave a loose gesture toward the row of parked cars along the street, and I didn’t know if dogs could comprehend something like “we won our court case,” but I figured they’d still understand the sentiment.

  “I’ll do just that. Thank you again, Archer.” Abby continued to smile as she rose up onto her tiptoes, planted a thin hand on my shoulder, and smacked a lipstick-damp kiss to my cheek.

  I smiled, a little softer, and watched from the steps of the courthouse as she hurried off toward her old junker of a car. Then I waited until she pulled away before tugging my own keys from my pocket.

  I gave them a lazy swing around my finger as I took the steps down, two at a time, and my briefcase swung against my thigh while I walked over to my own car. I couldn’t exactly throw stones at Abby’s junker since my car wasn’t much better. It was good enough to get me where I needed to go and had been since I graduated from undergrad. Hell, I’d moved from Mesa to Crowley with everything I owned shoved into the backseat. She was a good car, even if she wasn’t the same as Marty’s fresh-off-the-lot Mercedes.

  I tossed my briefcase into the passenger seat and started navigating back toward my practice. It wasn’t even noon yet, but the sun continued to beat down like we owed it money. I cranked the dial for the air conditioner and relished the cool air that finally started to blow as I turned onto my street.

  I angled my car along the curb in front of Landon Legal before throwing it into park, and I let the air conditioner sputter along for a few more seconds before resigning myself to the heat once more. Then I bumped the driver’s side door shut with my hip and jogged up onto the sidewalk.

  The brassy sign for Landon Legal glinted in the light on the brick next to the front door, and I still got a bit giddy when I saw it. It didn’t matter that I’d been in practice for six months, I didn’t think seeing the sign would ever get old.

  “Howdy, Archer!” Hazel, the owner of Hazel’s Heavenly Treats, the bakery that sat wedged next to my practice, called over to me. She straightened up from the planters she’d been tending in front of the bakery’s large, frosted window, and she wiped her palms on her apron. “Case go well?”

  I’d never been able to pinpoint how old Hazel actually was. She could have been anywhere from thirty to seventy with her still-sprightly gait and long, gray hair that could have been natural or an aesthetic choice.

  I slid my key into the lock but paused with my hand still on the door as I turned to look at her, and an easy smile slid onto my face. Despite the bakery making noise at every hour of the night, I liked Hazel. She’d offered to help me repaint when I moved into the vacant space and brought blueberry muffins every Sunday, like clockwork.

  “We got the ruling we wanted,” I said and didn’t even try to hide my chipper tone. Nothing set me in a better mood than a case gone well. Even if I’d stupidly taken the case on pro bono.

  Hazel clapped her dirty hands together. “Oh, well, I’m real happy to hear that, Archer! But don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than sit and chatter with an old woman. Go on now.”

  She waved me off with little shooing motions, and I gave her another smile and a polite nod of my head before ducking into the shoebox I called home.

  Marty hadn’t been kidding when he called my office a shoebox. When I’d made the move to the city, I looked for the cheapest space I could find with four walls and a roof, but it wasn’t the worst office in the world. I had plenty of room for my desk, a row of filing cabinets in the storage closet, and a few chairs for myself and any potential clients.

  If I needed to use the bathroom, I had to walk next door to Hazel’s, but it was a small price to pay for my own practice. After graduation, I’d started at the public defender’s office in Mesa. I’d wanted to help people who had no one else in their corner, but no one had told me I’d be lucky if I got to spend thirty minutes on a client’s case. Sometimes, I felt like I’d been doing more harm than good, so I packed up everything I owned and moved to Crowley.

  Things hadn’t been easy, but at least here, I felt like I was making a real difference. Even if I wasn’t making rent. I still had enough in savings to get me through another month or two without a case to sustain me, but I needed to figure something out.

  And soon.

  I sighed as I slumped down into the chair behind my desk. It was the nicest thing in the practice. I’d found it for sale on one of those online marketplaces for a steal and had paid the seller to drop it off at my practice. It was the sort of chair that made me feel like a professional. It had a high, leather back in a rich shade of brown and the fancy sort of feet I usually saw on old-fashioned bathtubs, and when I sat in the chair, I felt like I knew what I was doing.

  I tugged my tie loose and tossed it onto my desk since I’d tidied up my mess of papers before Abby’s hearing earlier that morning. Then I shifted forward to shake off the jacket of my suit before hanging it over the back of my chair with a flourish. I hated suits. They felt too constricting, even if I looked good while wearing them.

  I had one other potential case I could look over. A man had approached me about suing his landlord because, apparently, his house was haunted, and the landlord hadn’t told him before he moved in.

  However, before I could degrade myself enough to open the file I’d started a few days prior, my cell phone began to buzz from where I’d tucked it into my briefcase.

  I quickly flipped open my briefcase and grabbed my phone. The number listed on the screen read UNKNOWN, but I didn’t hesitate to swipe to answer.

  “Hello, this is Archer Landon of Landon Legal, how can I help you?” I asked in the easy sort of tone I always used when taking calls. I heard a bit of static on the end of the line and what sounded like an alarm blaring in the background, and I hesitated for a moment as I debated simply hanging up.

  “Hi,” a woman exhaled over the line before I could end the call. She sounded out of breath, but her voice was still light and melodic. “Sorry, there was a code blue down the hall.”

  Code blue? My brow furrowed, and I pulled my phone away from my ear to check the number again. It didn’t look familiar.

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair.

  The woman gave a breathless laugh. “Oh, sorry. I should have opened with that. Abby gave me your number.”

  It all clicked then, of course. I’d assumed Abby would give her cousin my work line, not my cell phone number.

  “Right, yes. Clara? She said you were looking for a lawyer.” I shifted then into my work posture, upright and ready for action, and I could still hear what I now assumed to be the clatter of a hospital in the background of Clara’s call.

  She gave a sigh, and the background noise ceased, so she must have found a quiet place. “Yes. Clara Shepard. I live in a little neighborhood just outside Crowley. Piney Crest, if you’ve heard of it, but you probably haven’t. We’re just downriver of Knox Chemicals.”

  While I didn’t know where Piney Crest was, I did know plenty about Knox Chemicals. They were one of the largest petrochemical companies in the state of Texas, but Clara didn’t wait for an answer before she continued on.

  “People have been getting sick, in the neighborhood, I mean. Really sick. Cancer sick. And I think it’s the plant’s fault. I--” Clara broke off as another commotion roared in the tinny background noise of the call. She swore too soft for me to catch the word, but the feeling was all there.

  “Look, I’ve got to go, but would you be willing to meet me at my house in two hours? This is just something easier to show you, I think. I should be off work then. I’ll text the address?�
��

  It didn’t take much for me to hear the desperation in her tone.

  I dropped my head back against the leather of my chair with a sigh, and I stared up at the water-stained ceiling as I braced myself for my own answer.

  “I can do that. Just text me the address, alright?”

  I heard the relief in her voice as she chirped out a quick thanks, and then the line went dead.

  I dropped my arm down as I exhaled another heavy sigh. It was better than ghosts, at least. My phone gave a sharp chime, and I looked down to see the unknown number had sent a text this time, with an address. I took a moment to create a new contact in my phone for Clara before studying the address. It wasn’t too far from here.

  The two hours blurred by between her call and the moment I turned into the little neighborhood the GPS guided me toward. A rickety sign sat at the mouth of the drive. The sun faded wood read Piney Crest in a large, curling font, so at least I knew I had the right place. I raised my aviators onto my head, squinting as I began the drive down the craggy, narrow road.

  Piney Crest looked like the sort of place a family lived out of necessity. The houses, while not decrepit, were well-lived and run-down. The roofs lacked tiles in some places, and a few yards grew in patches. But it was clear care had been taken to make this place feel like a home. I saw a few little jungle gyms, some lawn furniture, and even what appeared to be a garden, even though nothing was growing in the cleared patch of dirt.

  I glanced down at the GPS before slowing to a stop outside the house marked with the big, green arrow, and I turned my car into the driveway and listened as the gravel crunched under my tires. I threw the car into park and switched off the GPS. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror, pausing for just a moment. The mark on my cheek from Abby’s lipstick was still there, so I took a second to scrub at the pink stain with a napkin from the glove compartment before sliding my way out of the car.

  The sun hadn’t relented any, and I was grateful I’d left my suit jacket behind. As I walked up the drive toward the front door, I rolled the sleeves of my button-up to my elbows, but I could still feel sweat beading on my nape beneath the collar of my shirt. A dainty purple wreath hung on the door as I came to a stop on the porch, and I straightened my spine before reaching out and giving three hard raps onto the wood.