Gray Mountain

But you didn’t hear this from me. FYI—Serious second thoughts. You? Izzie

Samantha chuckled as she read the e-mail, and wasted no time firing one right back:

Iz, I don’t know what Andy is smoking, or telling, but I haven’t said yes. And if he’s playing this fast and loose with the facts it sort of makes me question everything else he says. No, I ca

Randover was the only client who ever made me cry. He ridiculed me once in a meeting. I held things together until I could get to the restroom. And that chump Andy sat right there and watched it happen, no thought of protecting his people. No way. He wasn’t about to cross a client. I was wrong, but it was such a simple and harmless mistake.

Any idea what the package will be?

Izabelle replied:

I swore I wouldn’t divulge it. But it’s impressive. Later.

The first surprise of the day came in the mail. Top Market Solutions sent a check for $11,300, made payable to Pamela Booker, with the required releases attached. Samantha made a copy of the check and pla

On break, Pamela signed the release and cried over the check. She had never seen so much money and seemed thoroughly overwhelmed. They were sitting in Samantha’s car, in the parking lot, among a sad collection of ancient pickup trucks and dirty little imports. “I’m not sure what to do with this,” she said.

As a multitalented legal aid lawyer, Samantha had a bit of financial advice. “Well, first, don’t tell anyone. Period. Open your mouth and you’ll have all sorts of new friends. How much is your credit card debt?”

“Couple thousand.”

“Pay it off, then cut up your cards. No debt for at least a year. Use cash and write checks, but no credit cards.”

“Are you serious?”

“You need a car, so I’d put two thousand down on one and finance the rest over two years. Pay off your other bills, and put five thousand in a savings account, then forget about it.”

“How much of this do you get?”

“Zero. We don’t take fees, except in rare cases. It’s all yours, Pamela, and you deserve every dime of it. Now hurry and stick it in the bank before those crooks bounce it.”

With her lips twitching and tears dripping off her cheeks, she reached over and hugged her lawyer. “Thank you, Samantha. Thank you, thank you.”

Driving away, she looked in her rearview mirror. Pamela was standing, watching, waving. Samantha wasn’t crying, but she had a tightness in her throat.

The second surprise of the day came during the Monday brown-bag lunch. Just as Barb was telling a story about a man who’d fainted in church yesterday, Mattie’s cell phone vibrated on the table beside her salad. Caller unknown. She said hello, and a strangely familiar, but unidentified, voice said, “The FBI will be there in thirty minutes with a search warrant. Back up your files immediately.”

Her jaw dropped as the color drained from her face. “Who is this?” she asked. The caller was gone.

She calmly repeated the message, and everyone took a deep, fearful breath. Judging from the tactics used when the FBI raided Donovan’s office, it was safe to assume they would walk out with just about everything they could carry. The first frantic order of business would be to find some flash drives and start downloading the important data from their desktops.

“We’re assuming this is also related to Krull Mining,” A

Mattie was rubbing her temples, trying to stay calm. “There’s nothing else. The Feds must think we have something because I’m the attorney for Donovan’s estate. Bizarre, absurd, outrageous, I can’t think of enough adjectives. I, we, have nothing they haven’t already seen. There’s nothing new.”

To Samantha, though, the raid was far more ominous. She and Jeff had left Gray Mountain Sunday morning, and she was assuming the backpacks were loaded with documents. Barely twenty-four hours later, the FBI was charging in, snooping on behalf of Krull Mining. It was a fishing expedition, but also an act of effective intimidation. She mentioned nothing, but hurried to her office and began transferring data.

The women whispered as they scurried about. A

Agents Frohmeyer and Banahan wore dark suits and led the fearless team as it barged into the heavily fortified offices of the Mountain Legal Aid Clinic. Three other agents—all in navy parkas with “FBI” stenciled from shoulder to shoulder in yellow letters as large and as bright as possible—followed their leaders. Mattie met them in the front hallway with “Oh no, not you again.”

Frohmeyer said, “Afraid so. Here’s the search warrant.”

She took it and said, “I don’t have time to read it. Just tell me what it covers.”

“Any and all records relating to the legal files from the law offices of Donovan Gray and pertaining to correspondence, litigation, etc., relative to what is commonly known as the Hammer Valley case.”

“You got it all last time, Frohmeyer. He’s been dead seven weeks. You think he’s still producing paperwork.”

“I’m just following orders.”

“Right, right. Look, Mr. Frohmeyer, his files are still over there, across the street. The file I have here is his probate file. We’re not involved in the litigation. Understand? It’s not complicated.”

“I have my orders.”

Hump made a noisy entrance, barking, “I represent the clinic. What the hell is this all about?” A

Mattie said, “Hump, this is Agent Frohmeyer, the leader of this little posse. He thinks he has the right to take all of our files and computers.”

A

It took a lot to stun a tough guy like Frohmeyer, but for a second his shoulders slumped, slightly. The other four listened wide-eyed and uncertain. Samantha almost laughed out loud. Mattie was actually gri