Deputy Assistant Attorney General Gerard Lattimore had his driver drop him back at the Department of Justice. As he returned to his office, he could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple, as if Quinn’s words were pounding themselves into his brain. Somehow or another, Alicia Miller’s nervous breakdown-whatever was wrong with her-would come back to haunt him. He was her boss. He’d hired her. If she went off the deep end, it would reflect badly on him.
Depressed, drunk, drugged-did it matter what had caused her to make the scene earlier today at the coffee shop? She was a problem he should have addressed sooner.
Pushing back his concern, his anger at himself, he walked down the hall to the maze of cubicles where Alicia worked and wasn’t surprised to find Steve Eisenhardt at his desk. Lattimore warned himself not to get worked up. He had borderline high blood pressure and feared that the next crisis would pop him over the line, and he’d have to go on medication. Provided, of course, he didn’t drop dead of a stroke first.
A faint body odor wafted up from Eisenhardt. Odd, Gerard thought, because he was fastidious about his personal hygiene. He and Steve had similar backgrounds-family money, political connections-but the younger attorney didn’t have the same drive to prove himself. The kid was brilliant-he didn’t have to work hard to impress anyone. Alicia had tried to get him to be a little less arrogant, a little less obviously jaded, but she liked him. Most people did.
Gerard was the exception. From his first week on the job, Steve Eisenhardt bugged the hell out of him. It wasn’t Eisenhardt’s arrogance or his ambition, and certainly not his family money or connections-it was the little bastard’s sense of entitlement. If only he’d been the one to go nuts, sobbing about ospreys, instead of Alicia. Gerard would love to have an excuse to get rid of him.
When Steve saw his boss, he made a move to get up. Lattimore held up a hand. “Sit, sit. I just spoke to Quinn Harlowe. She told me she’s talked to you about Alicia.”
“Oh, right. Yeah.”
“You should have told me.”
“Told you what? That Alicia Miller was upset about something?”
Fair enough, Gerard thought. Quinn had told him that she hadn’t given Steve all the details of her encounter with Alicia. “Have you heard from her?”
“Not since she left here Friday.”
“Steve-Quinn downplayed Alicia’s condition when she called you earlier. She’s worried about her.”
“To the point of calling the police?”
“No. At least not yet. You don’t have any idea who might have picked her up?”
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Lattimore. “I have no idea. I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do. Did Quinn have someone check her cottage in case Alicia went back there?”
“She’s on her way there now to see for herself.”
Steve was silent a moment.
“What is it?” Lattimore prodded him. “Steve, this conversation’s off the record. I have no more desire to see Alicia hurt than you or anyone else does.”
“What if Quinn misread the situation? She and Alicia have had their problems. I don’t want to get dragged into the middle of some squabble between friends.” He shifted his attention back to his monitor and tapped a couple of keys, clearing the screen. “Why did Quinn tell you? When I talked to her, she didn’t want to say anything.”
He had no intention of letting this kid know that he’d gone to Quinn’s office himself out of concern for her friend-before he knew about their encounter at the coffee shop. “She thought Alicia would turn up fine by now.”
Steve shrugged, unconcerned. “She probably still will. Alicia told me she and Quinn would always be friends but not the kind of close friends they once were. Hey, it happens, right? People go in different directions. From what I gather, they haven’t had much contact with each other since Quinn left here. Alicia could have new friends that Quinn wouldn’t know to call-”
“Do you know any names?”
“We aren’t that buddy-buddy.”
Something in his eyes didn’t feel right to Lattimore. He decided Steve was being disingenuous-he cared more about Alicia Miller than he wanted to let on. A romantic interest? Gerard would never put the two of them together.
“If you hear of anything, let me know.”
Eisenhardt nodded. “Sure. Of course. Are you worried?”
Lattimore thought a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m worried.”
The younger attorney swore under his breath, but Gerard left, already late for a meeting that would drag on through dinner. Another night, he thought, that he wouldn’t have time to stop at the house and see his kids-another night his ex-wife could use to prove her point: His work came first. Before her, before their children, before his own health.
And she was right. It had to be that way, at least while he was a deputy assistant attorney general. To pretend otherwise was dishonest, a disservice to himself and everyone he loved.
His ex-wife had wanted the goodies without the sacrifices.
No one, he thought, could have it all.