"I assure you, Mr. Reese," Davis says, "it's not at all preposterous. Your granddaughter did in fact spend this past weekend in New York City with Mr. Bennett.
At this point, I'm not even remotely worried about the FBI. I'm thinking my grandfather is going to kill me once they leave.
For now, he reigns his temper in with a visible effort, but his eyes when he looks at me show nothing but cold anger.
"That was a purely business matter," I tell them.
"A business matter?"
"I am representing Mr. Bennett on a business matter, and I accompanied him to New York to provide legal advice."
"What type of business matter?"
"I'm sorry, that's confidential."
"You're a criminal lawyer, correct?"
"My background is in criminal law, but I no longer limit my practice to that."
"Weren't you hired here to establish a criminal law division at the firm?"
"I'm here, not that it's any of your business, because my grandfather wishes to pass the law firm on to me when he retires. Until that time, I'll be not only establishing the criminal law department, but also becoming familiar with other areas where the firm provides legal services. Such as, for example, representing clients in transactional matters."
"What kind of transactional matter were you representing Mr. Bennett on in New York?"
"As I stated, any legal advice I provided to Max Bennett while we were in New York is confidential."
"Where did you go when you were in New York?"
"I'm sure you know, since you are apparently following my every move." A sudden thought occurs to me, and I turn toward Agent Davis.
"It was you in the restroom in the club in New York," I accuse.
She gives me a blank look, but I don't know if that's for real or if she's just a good actor.
"I did not follow you to New York," she says. Then her eyes narrow. "What happened in a restroom in a club in New York?"
"Nothing," I say. "I just had the feeling someone was following me." I look over Collins. "The same feeling I used to get here in Miami when it turned out you were following me."
"If someone was watching you in New York," Collins says, "it wasn't us."
"Then how did you know I was even in New York?"
"That's confidential."
"Really." I stand up. "I think we're done here."
Collins stands as well. "We came here today hoping we could secure your assistance in our investigation of Maxwell Bennett."
I pause, and frown. "My assistance? What kind of assistance?"
"That you could provide information on who he meets with, share anything you observe about his business activities," Davis says.
"I'm his lawyer," I tell them. "So, no, I won't be observing my client's activities and reporting back to you."
"You do realize," Collins says, "that the attorney client privilege doesn't apply if you have knowledge of a crime that is about to be committed."
"We are well aware of the ethical responsibilities of attorneys," my grandfather snaps.
"If in fact you are aware of any plans to engage in criminal actives," Collins continues as if he had not been interrupted, "I trust you will give us a call." He pauses. "Unless you like the idea of being arrested as an accessory before the fact."
He pushes one of his business cards across the table. I ignore it.
Andrew also rises. "As my granddaughter said, we're done here."
Davis looks pointedly around the room. "You have a nice career, a nice well-establish law firm. Don't throw it away over Max Bennett. Trust me, men like that aren't worth it."
"You have no idea what kind of a man Max Bennett is."
"Really?" Collins says. "I know exactly what he is. And I think you do, too."
They walk out the door, and my grandfather and I wait until we hear the elevator ding. Then he looks at me with barely contained fury.
"My office. Now."
My heart is pounding. I'm really not looking forward to this conversation. There's no getting around the fact that I lied to him about my plans for the weekend. But I might as well get the confrontation over with, and then see where we go from there.
"Fine. Let me must stop in the restroom, and-"
"You're not stopping anywhere," Andrew says. "You think I don't know you want to text him? Call him? Maybe just sneak out and meet him? I'm not taking my eyes off you."
"I do not sneak around." I say this defensively, since my plan actually was to stop in the restroom and text Max. He needs to know what just happened.
"Right," he says, clearly not believing me. After all, didn't I just tell him last week that I was meeting up with some friends in New York, almost in the same breath as telling him I was no longer dating Max?
"For all you know," Andrew says, "they may be monitoring communications on your cell phone."
"They can't do that! No way would a judge authorize a wiretap on a lawyer's phone."
"All that means is they can't use any information they discover in court. You think I trust the FBI?"
"Oh my God. You're as cynical as he is." I say this really to myself, but my grandfather nods.
"I've earned my cynicism. Especially where anything concerning the Bennetts is concerned."
"What doyou mean?"
"My office." He strides out the conference room door and down the hallway, and I follow.
By the time I walk into his office, he's already sitting behind his massive desk, like a despot on a throne.
His legal assistant looks at me curiously as I go in and shut the door behind me. I wonder how much she knows about what's going on. Certainly the two agents must have identified themselves when they showed up this morning.
I just hope speculation isn't running rampant throughout the firm.
Of course, everyone knows I'm building a criminal law practice, so perhaps the FBI showing up won't strike anyone as that unusual. I fully expect Dylan to be sniffing around, however, especially since he was right there in the lobby when I arrived this morning.
I ease into one of the visitor's chairs and perch on the edge, hoping I don't look as nervous as I feel.
"Before you say anything," I start, "I owe you an apology."
He folds his hands on the desk and glares at me. "Damn right you do. I ought to put you on a plane and ship you right back to Philadelphia."
"I'm not twelve years old, so you won't be shipping me back anywhere. But I am sorry I lied to you. And I appreciate you having my back in there."
"Don't ever lie to me again, Hadley. There have been too many lies already, and I admit my part in that."
I lean forward and risk slipping off the edge of the chair. "Are you going to tell me the truth now? About what happened between you and my parents? What the connection is between you and Max's father?"
He shakes his head. "Now isn't the time to dig all that up."
I settle back in the chair, disappointed. "Then what you just said about no more lies doesn't really mean anything."
"You're wrong. There's a difference between refusing to go back and rehash the past, and agreeing not to lie to each other going forward."
Now he leans toward me, resting his hands on the desk.
"I need to know the truth about your relationship with Max Bennett, personal and professional. I can't protect you - and this law firm - if you keep me in the dark."
"Sometimes it's better not to know."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes, I believe that. I'm not naive. Maybe at first I thought Max was just a successful businessman whose reputation was tainted by his father's life of crime. I came to realize it's not that black and white. There are gray areas. And there are things I can't accept."
He's studying me closely now, focused on my words and my face. Probably trying to decide if I'm still lying to him.
"That's why I decided I couldn't continue my personal relationship with him." I raise my gaze to his face. "I wasn't lying about that."
"But you spent the weekend with him in New York."
"Yes."
"Hadley, you need to trust me. You need to tell me what's going on here."
"Can you understand that's not an easy thing you're asking me? I've grown up with the knowledge that when my mother needed you the most, you weren't there for her. And now you want me to trust you, just because you tell me to?"
The look of pain that crosses his face shocks and surprises me. He had so much money. Plenty to have paid for the experimental cancer treatment and never have even missed it. Money that would have eased my parents' financial burden and allowed my father to spend more time just taking care of her - and me - instead of working even longer hours to keep a roof over our heads and try to keep pace with the mounting medical bills.
But he refused. I know that for a fact because my father broke down once and told me how he flew to Miami and humbled himself and begged my grandparents for help. And they turned him away.
So I guess the look of pain on my grandfather's face is guilt, remorse. Maybe he wishes he could turn back time and change that decision. But there's no way to undo the past.
And no reason for me to trust him now.
"I'll agree not to lie to you again," I say carefully. "But I won't agree to tell you everything."
He sighs, and shakes his head.
"Then you leave me no choice."
He picks up his cell phone and dials a number. Apparently someone answers immediately.
"Two agents from the FBI were just here," Andrew says brusquely. "We need to meet."
He pauses, listening.
"No, right now. Here at my office."
He pauses again.
"I'll be waiting."