Page 7 of Drilled

I’d nearly made it to the courtroom while trying to juggle my overflowing briefcase, additional folders and a lukewarm cup of coffee when Nance intercepted me.

She gently pulled me aside, swiftly taking my cup of coffee and replacing it with a steaming disposable one, before slipping me a piece of paper. I squinted, tilting my head to read. It was a stamped pharmacy record, and if I wasn’t mistaken…

“Nance, is this..?” I asked breathlessly.

“It is,” she confirmed, sounding proud of herself and goddammit, she should be. “You were right, Lane. The client had a valid prescription for his meds six months ago, it just lapsed. I got the pharmacy manager to fax over the records ten minutes ago.”

“You are absolutely brilliant,” I said, immediately redirecting my steps to the Assistant State’s Attorney. This was the smoking gun I needed to dismiss the Class 4 felony and I had no time to even celebrate. “I still owe you a drink!”

“I don’t know what made you think I ever forgot, Counselor,” Nance replied, shooing me off.

I must’ve looked like a fool, hurrying into the courtroom with a grin on my face as I looked for the prosecutor whose day I was just about to ruin.

*

“If it isn’t my ever-capable paralegal without whose boundless wisdom I would be half the lawyer I am,” I announced as I entered the bullpen on the fourth floor. She looked up from her laptop, smiling at me.

“That might just be a tad excessive,” she said, resting her chin on her steepled fingers.

“Not in the slightest,” I said. “We got the State to drop it to a misdemeanor with supervision. Which means that Mr. Murdock will be able to stay out of jail.”

Which in turn, meant that his future career prospects wouldn’t be tainted by a record of possessing a controlled substance. And the chronic pain he was suffering wouldn’t be an even greater liability to an already tough life. But, I kept that bit to myself. I knew that Nance got it, anyway.

“You did it, Lane,” she said, her grin widening.

“We did it, Nance. I wouldn’t have been able to swing this case if you didn’t find that prescription,” I told her, then paused. “In fact, it’s because of your excellent sleuthing skills that I’d like to make a personal inquiry.”

“Oh?” Nance raised both eyebrows, intrigued.

I nodded. I’d thought about this ever since she’d slid that prescription into my hand. Nancy could sniff a paper trail through a lake. And those were skills I could really make use of right now.

“I’ve mentioned Sandy Manning before, right?” I asked.

“Maybe once or twice. Or a dozen, I can’t quite recall,” she answered.

“Well, I’d like you to look into him.”

“Anything specific you’re hoping to find?” she said.

“Anything you can. I’d also appreciate it if you could look into municipal building codes and city permit records. I want to make sure I’m prepared for whatever the old bastard has to throw at me,” I told her.

She nodded her head in understanding, her eyes glinting with the challenge. “I can do that. Speaking of the renovation project, how is that going? I’m assuming if you’re needing me on this ‘case’ of yours, things are probably a bit more complicated than you’ve let on.”

Ah yes, the double-edged sword of asking Nancy for help with personal matters. But she’d proven not only her competency, but her discretion. And she was doing this as a favor for me…icing her out completely just felt cruel. And yet, hearing her question only let loose an army of butterflies in my stomach.

Ever since Tuesday night's basement flood, my house had been a revolving door of heavy boots and tool belts. Between yesterday's kitchen planning and the frantic subfloor repairs, I'd spent the last few days constantly tripping over Bear, Silas, and Dax.

“It’s…it’s going,” I said cagily.

“It’s going,” Nancy repeated. She picked up her pen from the desk and clicked it once. “That’s pretty self-explanatory, Lane. I was kinda thinking of more details around the progress. You know, especially since you started by telling me you were dealing with, what was it again, hot jerks on bikes?”

My throat went dry. I pulled at the neckline of my blouse. “Well. I mean, I just mentioned one hot jerk on a bike. The rest of them aren’t as bad as I thought. I could actually like them. I mean, one of them, anyway.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

“Don’t look at me like that, Nance.”

“If that’s your guilty conscience burning under my stare, feel free to confess and lighten the burden,” she said.