Northern California. She'd graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Stanford University with a B.A. in psychology, and she'd gotten involved with The Last Stand through volunteering.
Luke stared at the short paragraph he'd just read. She seemed smart.
But could he trust her? Would she have an ear for the truth or even care about it? Or had she been so convinced by Kalyna that she'd care only about chalking up another conviction?
He needed someone to listen, to stop this travesty of justice before it went any further. He wanted to resume his life, get back to flying.
He called the office number Ava had left on his machine.
A pleasant voice answered. "The Last Stand."
"Is Ava Bixby in?"
"She's on another line. Can I take a message and have her call you back?"
Don't talk to her. She's on their side, McCreedy had warned. Why wasn't he listening?
"No, no message," he said, and hung up.
54
Chapter 6
"Y ou got a minute?"
Ava glanced up as Jonathan Stivers poked his head into her office on Thursday afternoon. "Of course," she said. "Get in here. I've been trying to reach you."
"Sorry, my phone's dead and I lost my charger."
Just shy of six feet tall with a wiry build, brown hair and brown eyes, Jonathan was definitely handsome. Although Ava had never been attracted to him in a romantic sense, the interns and volunteers gushed over him all the time--to no avail. He was engaged to Zoe Duncan, a woman he'd met while he was working to locate her kidnapped daughter.
"Then I'm glad you stopped by." She shoved some phone records she'd been studying for another case off to one side. "I've been dying to talk to you."
He ambled in and took a chair across from her desk. "Fortunately, you're stil here. I didn't want to drive all over the place looking for your houseboat."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't start, okay? It's not that hard to find."
"It's at least a forty-minute drive."
"But I dock it in the same place every night. Well, every night so far this month," she corrected.
"When are you going to buy a real house?" he asked. "It can't be convenient driving out to the delta every night."
"Skye's house is farther." She shrugged. "Anyway, a houseboat has its advantages."
"And they are..."
"I'm not sure I want to live in Sacramento forever. If I had a regular house, I'd have to sell it in order to leave."
"So you're saying you can pick up and go whenever you want."
She opened her top drawer to get a package of gum, then slammed it shut. "Exactly."
55
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Like right now."
"Yup. I could if I wanted to." She unwrapped a piece of gum and tossed the paper at the wastebasket, but missed.
"You can't simply abandon the houseboat."
"I'd call my father and tell him to take care of it himself. After all, it's his, isn't it?" She popped the gum in her mouth.
"You couldn't do that. Because then he'd have to sell it, dispelling the il usion you've helped him create that he hasn't gotten too henpecked to steal away on a fishing trip now and then." Jonathan jerked his head toward her desk. "I'l have a piece of that."
She threw a stick of gum at him instead of to him, but he managed to catch it. "His il usions are not my problem."
"Now you're dissembling."
"Dissembling? Where'd you come up with that word?"
He wadded up his wrapper and tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket--it went right in. "I have a good vocabulary. I just try not to use it. I don't like to intimidate those around me."
She had to laugh. "Well, I'm not dissembling or prevaricating or fabricating."
"You've been holding back, too," he said with a whistle. "I'm impressed."
"I'm glad. Does that mean we can stop arguing?" There was no point in trying to convince him she was right, because she wasn't. She couldn't hand the houseboat back to her father, not without plenty of notice. Now that her mother was in prison, Chuck Bixby was all she had. Distant though he'd always been, at least in an emotional sense, she was taking it upon herself to
Luke stared at the short paragraph he'd just read. She seemed smart.
But could he trust her? Would she have an ear for the truth or even care about it? Or had she been so convinced by Kalyna that she'd care only about chalking up another conviction?
He needed someone to listen, to stop this travesty of justice before it went any further. He wanted to resume his life, get back to flying.
He called the office number Ava had left on his machine.
A pleasant voice answered. "The Last Stand."
"Is Ava Bixby in?"
"She's on another line. Can I take a message and have her call you back?"
Don't talk to her. She's on their side, McCreedy had warned. Why wasn't he listening?
"No, no message," he said, and hung up.
54
Chapter 6
"Y ou got a minute?"
Ava glanced up as Jonathan Stivers poked his head into her office on Thursday afternoon. "Of course," she said. "Get in here. I've been trying to reach you."
"Sorry, my phone's dead and I lost my charger."
Just shy of six feet tall with a wiry build, brown hair and brown eyes, Jonathan was definitely handsome. Although Ava had never been attracted to him in a romantic sense, the interns and volunteers gushed over him all the time--to no avail. He was engaged to Zoe Duncan, a woman he'd met while he was working to locate her kidnapped daughter.
"Then I'm glad you stopped by." She shoved some phone records she'd been studying for another case off to one side. "I've been dying to talk to you."
He ambled in and took a chair across from her desk. "Fortunately, you're stil here. I didn't want to drive all over the place looking for your houseboat."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't start, okay? It's not that hard to find."
"It's at least a forty-minute drive."
"But I dock it in the same place every night. Well, every night so far this month," she corrected.
"When are you going to buy a real house?" he asked. "It can't be convenient driving out to the delta every night."
"Skye's house is farther." She shrugged. "Anyway, a houseboat has its advantages."
"And they are..."
"I'm not sure I want to live in Sacramento forever. If I had a regular house, I'd have to sell it in order to leave."
"So you're saying you can pick up and go whenever you want."
She opened her top drawer to get a package of gum, then slammed it shut. "Exactly."
55
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Like right now."
"Yup. I could if I wanted to." She unwrapped a piece of gum and tossed the paper at the wastebasket, but missed.
"You can't simply abandon the houseboat."
"I'd call my father and tell him to take care of it himself. After all, it's his, isn't it?" She popped the gum in her mouth.
"You couldn't do that. Because then he'd have to sell it, dispelling the il usion you've helped him create that he hasn't gotten too henpecked to steal away on a fishing trip now and then." Jonathan jerked his head toward her desk. "I'l have a piece of that."
She threw a stick of gum at him instead of to him, but he managed to catch it. "His il usions are not my problem."
"Now you're dissembling."
"Dissembling? Where'd you come up with that word?"
He wadded up his wrapper and tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket--it went right in. "I have a good vocabulary. I just try not to use it. I don't like to intimidate those around me."
She had to laugh. "Well, I'm not dissembling or prevaricating or fabricating."
"You've been holding back, too," he said with a whistle. "I'm impressed."
"I'm glad. Does that mean we can stop arguing?" There was no point in trying to convince him she was right, because she wasn't. She couldn't hand the houseboat back to her father, not without plenty of notice. Now that her mother was in prison, Chuck Bixby was all she had. Distant though he'd always been, at least in an emotional sense, she was taking it upon herself to
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