Free At Any Cost by Cara Ellison

“I don’t know who I am around you,” she murmured softly just as the doors opened.
    Tom had no reply, which was just as well because the elevator doors opened.
    Fallon straightened her shoulders and forced her face into calm, pleasant blandness, trying to get the sex vibe off her as she strode into her office.
    As soon as they were in her office, Adam Johnson appeared in her doorway. This was unprecedented. Adam Johnson was the most senior partner at the firm, the direct descendant of the two-hundred-year-old firm’s founder. Fallon had never met him; she recognized him only by the enormous portrait that hung in the grand hallway. The warm, dazzled glow Tom had imparted inside her began to perceptibly cool: Adam’s presence could only signify something huge, and possibly awful, and so Fallon attempted to brace herself even as a dull, sick ache lodged itself in her stomach and around her heart.
    â€œMiss Hughes, may I have a word?”
    â€œOf course,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain neutral and confident. Meeting Tom’s eyes, he discreetly stepped out of her office.
    Her spacious office suddenly seemed too small. Fallon felt trapped, like a rat in a cage. Adam Johnson said, “Miss Hughes, while you were on your errand, the police were here to see you.”
    â€œThe police?”
    â€œIndeed, they executed a search warrant.”
    â€œSearch warrant? For what?”
    â€œI do not know, Miss Hughes. But I assure you that it was an unpleasant intrusion to the other employees of Johnson Sloan Pruitt.”
    That was the first moment she understood the police had executed a search warrant on her office . Her laptop computer was gone. It had been on her desk this morning and now it was gone. Vanished. Her file cabinet was open, though files were still color coded and in place as far as she could tell in her state of accelerating confusion. “Oh my God,” she murmured. She felt like she was sinking. Her legs were dissolving beneath her.
    â€œWe have made certain allowances for you, but if you are involved in some sort of malfeasance, Johnson Sloan Pruitt will not continue to employ you.”
    She sank into her chair. “Mr. Johnson, I have no idea about any search warrant. I don’t understand what is going on. Do you have a copy of the search warrant?”
    â€œI believe they left it in the custody of the office manager, Ingrid Breyer.”
    â€œWhat are they accusing me of?” she asked desperately.
    â€œI do not know.”
    â€œMr. Johnson, I can’t imagine what this is about. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    â€œIf I might offer one suggestion, Fallon, you might employ a criminal attorney. As an attorney yourself, I am sure you are aware that once probable cause has been established for a search warrant, an arrest warrant is not far behind.”
    â€œI did nothing wrong,” Fallon said again, feebly. Her body hurt; every muscle in her body was pulled tight as power lines. Alan Johnson blinked slowly, like a turtle. His patrician bloodlessness set her teeth on edge.
    â€œAs I said, Fallon, we will give you a few days to get this straightened out, but we will not continue to employ an attorney who cannot foster trust among our clients.”
    A fine perimeter of sweat had broken out at her hairline. She feared she might start to cry. Thankfully, before the tears came, Alan Johnson exited Fallon’s office. She looked helplessly to Tom as he came inside. “I did nothing wrong, Tom. Nothing.”
    â€œLet’s find the search warrant and see what you’re being accused of.”
    Fallon’s mother had been an actress before she married Preston Taylor Hughes. She had been celebrated in both film and theatre and had won two Academy Awards. It was an inherited ability to act that enabled her to walk calmly through the unnaturally silent office to find Ingrid Breyer.
    Since Fallon’s first moment of employment