Free The Fallen Angels Book Club by R. Franklin James Page A

locked out of the software application with multiple guessing of dates. I had no intention of raising a red flag in Accounting from having to keep logging in each time I got kicked out.
    Fortunately, the attorneys were out of the office at a half-day management meeting. The day went by quickly. The other paralegals apparently picked up on my pensive mood and left me alone. I tried to reach Abby several times without success. I wanted to know if she had gone to the police.
    Eventually, I got some time to work on my petition. I was on my third draft. Having to detail the state of mind that led to my crime and the new thinking that filled me now wasn’t easy. I didn’t want it to sound like a confession or a denial. Still, I knew I grappled with too much anger and blame. I would have to get it out of my system before I could move on.
    I glanced at the picture of me holding my Hastings acceptance letter and finally the words came. Slowly at first and then nonstop, as if they had just been waiting for me to get out of the way.
    I finished.
    Emily, the office receptionist, knocked gently on the open door and told me to make sure to turn off the lights in our hallway when I left.
    â€œAvery, Phil and Simon are still behind closed doors. I think Grace is with a client in the conference room. You’re the last one on this side of the floor.”
    â€œThanks. Good night.” I waved her on. She was used to leaving me to turn off the lights. It wasn’t unusual for paralegals to spend time after hours on a case. The firm didn’t encourage it, but they didn’t discourage it, either.
    I went into Mark’s office, shut the door and keyed up Inquiry First on the computer. I still lacked birthdates, but I had to give it a try. It loaded in seconds. I quickly read down the small print to see what search and sort options they offered. Mark was right, it could do skip tracing and alias tracking. I did a quick test using Rory’s name, but after I had tried three different birth dates, Inquiry First kicked me out. I hit the keyboard with my fist. I wouldn’t get far without Rory’s real name or birth date.
    Taking in a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, I decided to use my own name to see if my information was accurate. A chill went up my arms as my life, captured in a few sheets of paper, spilled out for the entire world to see. I scanned the pages then logged off, feeling strangely as if I’d violated my own privacy. I’d try again later with the others, but for now I’d had enough and wanted to go home.

    The next day I left work a little early for my appointment with Jeffrey Wallace. As I approached his office, I took deep breaths to calm myself. I hadn’t realized how much I had counted on this meeting. When I had been on parole, Wallace had believed me when I said I was innocent. He was the only one who had. My former parole officer’s support meant everything to me.
    Being in the familiar hallway gave me an odd sense of comfort. Wallace was on the phone. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to hear it,” he was saying. “You’ve played me for the last time.”
    He looked up. I was in the doorway. He put his hand over the receiver and said, “You’re early. I’m glad.” Pushing aside a stack of papers, he signaled for me to sit. “Bear with me. I need to finish this call.”
    â€œI’ll wait outside.” I started to rise.
    â€œNo. Stay,” he mouthed.
    From the conversation, I could tell it was a parolee, not a friend or acquaintance. I realized I didn’t know anything about Jeffrey Wallace’s family. I slowly looked around the room for pictures or awards—nothing. Bare walls, except for a calendar and the inevitable poster with a cat hanging on a bar with the saying, “Hang in there.”
    True to his word, he finished the call and smiled at me. “You look good, Rebecca.