Free Damage Control by Robert Dugoni Page B

broken by men. They knew their fathers’ flaws and weaknesses. They knew they weren’t heroes, often far from it.
    “Don’t use Dad as an example; he was a workaholic,” she said.
    “I’ve felt this way since the first week of law school.”
    Dana raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She had also questioned her own decision to go to law school—one she made more to spite her father than to appease him. He hadn’t thought she had what it took to be a lawyer.
    “The next thing I knew, I was sitting behind my desk at Dillon and Block, three doors down from Dad in the anti-trust department.” James laughed again. “I hadn’t even taken a class on anti-trust. Dad would hand me a file and go on and on about this and that, and I would just sit there looking concerned, nodding, throwing in a few ‘sons of bitches’ and ‘goddammits.’?”
    They both laughed.
    James drank from his beer. “At least you had the good sense to work someplace else.”
    “I was defiant.”
    “Well, so am I. Better late than never. I’m getting out.”
    “What would you do?” She hoped her brother would provide them both an answer.
    “Teach.”
    She laughed, then caught herself when she realized he was serious.
    James cradled the plastic cup in his hands, flexing it. “A friend called to tell me that Seattle U has a position to teach legal research and writing and trial advocacy.”
    “You’re serious. You’ve looked into this.”
    He nodded. “I forwarded my grades and references last week. If all goes well, next fall I could be trading my suits and Ferragamos for khakis and loafers.”
    She stared at the coffee table, filled with a sense of loss unrelated to the death of their father.
    “Come with me,” James said, perhaps sensing her despair. “Let’s celebrate Dad’s death by getting lives.”
    She took a sip of wine. “Right. What would Grant think?”
    “Who cares? This isn’t about Grant. It’s about you.”
    “He’s my husband, James.”
    “Don’t remind me.” He raised both hands. “Sorry.”
    She knew her family did not care for Grant, but it was not a topic of discussion. Grant was her husband. “Our mortgage is more than we can afford on both our salaries. We owe a hundred thousand in student loans between us, and our car payments are more than some people’s house payments.”
    “Sell it all.” James leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his blue eyes sparkling. “That’s what I’m doing. Sell the cars and the house. With the equity in the house, I can pay almost all cash for something smaller.”
    She laughed out loud. “With the equity in our house, we might be able to afford dinner and a nice bottle of wine.”
    “You’d be free.”
    She didn’t even know what that meant. “We’ve talked about children.”
    He sat back. His tone changed. “Really?”
    She nodded. “We’ve been married five years, and I’m not getting any younger.”
    “Are you getting along better?”
    “We’re trying. It’s just the strain of work. It’ll change once we have children. It will give us a new perspective.”
    But it had been her brother who gained the new perspective. James sold his home on Capitol Hill, sold his Mercedes, and gave his suits and most of his ties and dress shirts to Goodwill. He dropped his membership at the Washington Athletic Club, stopped dining at expensive restaurants, and rarely spent the $150 greens fees for a round of golf at the private clubs. He liked to joke that he had to quit his high-paying job in order to save money.
    “I’m very sorry, I’m late.”
    Dana opened her eyes. Detective Michael Logan stood at the bottom of the steps with rain dripping from his umbrella. “I could lie and blame it on traffic, but the truth is I overslept. I got a call in the middle of the night, a murder out in Rainier Valley. It turns out it’s connected with your brother.”
    She felt her anxiety rise. “My brother?”
    Logan looked up at the sky. “Let’s step inside, out of the