Shattered Virtue Read Online Free PDF

girl.” He fetches a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes spittle from his mouth. “Damn lungs.”
    Rounding the desk, I hug him. “Don’t get so excited, Gramps. It’s bad for you.”
    He waves the handkerchief at me and strides away without saying another word. He’s pretty spry for an eighty-year-old, except for his lungs and his heart. Although he gave up smoking years ago, the damage was already done.
    As soon as he leaves, Lucy Perkins, my newly assigned secretary, steps into my office and closes the door behind her. About my age, we met at a summer law firm picnic one year and hit it off. So when I was asked if I had a preference for a secretary, I chose her. “Heads up. Steele’s on the warpath.”
    “Any particular reason why?”
    “Well”—she gives me an odd look—“word has it your grandfather demanded he take you to North Carolina to interview a client, and he’s not too happy about it.”
    Can’t blame him. I wouldn’t be either if I’d been asked to take along a wet-behind-the-ears intern to a prisoner interview. But there’s no getting out of it. I’d promised Gramps.
    “Bummer.”
    My phone rings. Caller ID tells me it’s Trenton Steele. I make a face. “It’s him.”
    “Mr. Steele?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good luck, sweetie,” she says before dashing out the door.
    “Hello.” My voice sounds shaky at best.
    “For the record, Ms. Berkeley, you answer the phone with your name.”
    “Yes, sir. Sorry.”
    “Come to my office.”
    “Now?”
    “Yes. Now,” he barks.
    Darn. I grab a yellow legal pad and a pen and head out. Except I don’t know where I’m going.
    Lucy points to the corner office. Figures that’s where he’d be.
    I stumble when I enter his office—darn heels—but manage to catch myself before I face-plant on the rug.
    Other than pointing to the chair in front of his desk, he doesn’t react to my less-than-graceful entrance.
    Feeling the heat rising in my face, I duck my head and drop into the seat.
    “I need you to go with me to North Carolina on Friday.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    His left brow arches. “You don’t sound very surprised.”
    “My grandfather”—I clear my throat—“said you’d like me to accompany you.”
    “Is that what he told you?”
    Kinda. Sorta. “Yes, Mr. Steele.”
    “For the record, you make a lousy liar.”
    I don’t dare say a word. What happened to the man I met last night? The one intent on charming me? Maybe he’s bipolar and missed his meds. Or maybe he has a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Whatever the reason, I need to tread carefully around this man.
    “Your law school article, “Unraveling Miranda”?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’re representing a death row inmate whose appeal comes up next week. He’s a pro bono client. We’re arguing he wasn’t properly Mirandized. There was a lapse between the time the suspect was arrested and when the Miranda rights were read.”
    “Didn’t his attorney argue that during trial?”
    “The public defender who represented him was fresh out of law school. He got his ass handed to him by the district attorney who handled the case. The idiot never questioned the timing of the Miranda rights.”
    “But what if he committed the crime?”
    He glares at me. “Ms. Berkeley, the law needs to be followed to the letter. If it’s not, justice will not be served. Do you understand?”
    I gulp. “Yes, Mr. Steele. I’ll be glad to draft some questions for the inmate, if you wish.” The look on his face silences me. He could care less about my assistance.
    He rises to his feet, walks to his office door, shuts it.
    Uh-oh. I feel a reprimand coming on. And on my second day on the job too.
    He picks up his letter opener and points it at me. “Let’s get one thing straight, Ms. Berkeley. The one and only reason I’m taking you is because your Gramps issued me an ultimatum. Either I take you along or I can kiss my private suite good-bye.”
    Well, that explains his about-face. My grandfather forced