Free Over Her Dead Body by Kate White

don’t know a ton about these things, but a lawyer may even suggest that you get hold of the police yourself. They’ll be contacting you anyway. Someone saw you go into the office late, plus the cops are going to find out you were fired. It will probably look better if you take the initiative. But you need to get legal counsel and let them figure out the best course of action. Do you know a lawyer?”
    “Well, we’ve talked to a lawyer about the adoption.”
    “That’s not the right kind,” I said, trying not to sound impatient. “You need a criminal attorney.”
    “Brock would probably know someone. He’s in San Francisco this week trying to drum up some business. I haven’t been able to reach him yet.”
    “If you can’t find anyone, call me back and I’ll do a little research. Are you going to be okay there by yourself?”
    “I guess so. Oh God, this is so awful. Was she—was she in a coma when you found her?”
    “Like I said, I’m not supposed to discuss any specifics, but she was in pretty bad shape. Call me back tomorrow and let me know what’s happening, okay?”
    “Okay,” he said, choking back a sob.
    I put down the phone and began pacing my living room. This was bad, really bad. But most disturbing wasn’t that Robby might soon become the primo suspect. It was the fact that he might have actually
done
it. I just had to keep telling myself that the Robby I knew wasn’t capable of such a despicable act.
    I stripped off my jean skirt, kicked it into the corner of the living room, and wandered into the kitchen. I felt I needed something in my stomach, but toast was the only thing that held any appeal. As I was popping a piece of bread into the toaster, my cell phone went off in the other room. I raced for my purse and rummaged through it for my phone. Nash was on the other end.
    “I just heard your message,” he said. “Are you still there?”
    “Where?”
    “At
Buzz.
”
    “No, I’m home now. What about you? Had you heard before you got my message?”
    “Yeah, I was at the
Track
party. I just escaped. They interviewed all of us, one by bloody one. I got moved up the food chain when I finally convinced somebody that I was worth talking to. What the hell happened?”
    “Someone attacked both Mona and the cleaning lady. I have no idea why, though.”
    “What kind of shape is Mona in? Do you think she’ll be okay?”
    “She was unconscious when I found her and apparently, according to the news, she’s in a coma—at St. Luke’s. That’s all I’ve heard.”
    “You said on the phone that she’d been hit on the head. With what, do you know?”
    “No,” I said honestly, but also mindful of the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be talking about details. “It was a crime scene, and they don’t appreciate amateurs doing any kind of inspection.”
    “What about the cleaning lady?”
    “She seemed okay.”
    “Did she see anything?”
    “I don’t think so. Though she was pretty dazed. Maybe when her head clears, she’ll remember some details.”
    “Wait, say it again,” he said. “I’m in a cab in the park and you’re starting to break up.”
    I repeated what I’d just told him.
    “Christ,” he muttered. “I’m probably gonna lose you again, so I better get off. You’ve got my home number, so call me tonight if you hear anything, all right? And I want you in there tomorrow. Stop by my office as soon as you get in.”
    “Sure,” I said, wondering what he had in mind but deciding that this was not the time to ask.
    “Hey, weren’t you supposed to be in court today?” he said as an afterthought.
    “I was,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “But I—I needed a few things from work.”
    It was silent at the other end, and I realized that I had lost him for good.
    I finished making my toast and turned on the TV to CNN, but some talk show was playing and the crawl didn’t offer any news about Mona. I figured that I probably wouldn’t learn anything official until