"Don't even think about it. " I turned back to him. "I'm not going to touch your car, Curtis. I'm not going to threaten you or hurt you or do anything that might get me arrested. I'm just going to make sure everyone in this town knows exactly what kind of man you are. They already know.
You made sure of that with your little video stunt. That was just the beginning. I walked toward the door then stopped and looked back. Oh, and Curtis, you might want to invest in some adult diapers. I have a feeling you're going to need them.
His face went white again, and I could see the memory of our last encounter playing behind his eyes. The fear, the humiliation, the warm wetness spreading down his legs. I left him standing there and walked back to my truck. As I was getting in, I noticed a small crowd had gathered at the edge of the lot. Word was getting around that Nick Morrison was paying a visit to Curtis Brennan, and people were curious to see what would happen next.
I gave them a little wave and drove away, leaving Curtis to explain to his customers why he looked like he'd seen a ghost. That afternoon, I paid a visit to Amber's law firm. Hartwell and Associates occupied the top three floors of the tallest building downtown. The kind of place where justice was measured in billable hours and moral flexibility was a job requirement. I'd been there before, of course.
Christmas parties, office picnics, the occasional dinner with Amber's colleagues. I knew the layout, knew the people, knew exactly where to find what I was looking for. The receptionist, a young woman named Jessica, who'd always been friendly to me, looked up nervously when I walked in. "Hi, Mr. Morrison.
Are you here to see Amber? " "Actually, I'm here to see Mr. Hartwell. " "Is he available? " "I I'll check. " She picked up the phone, whispering urgently into it. A few minutes later, Richard Hartwell emerged from his office. He was a tall, thin man with silver hair and the kind of smile that probably cost extra. "Nick, what brings you by? " "I need to talk to you about Amber. " His smile faltered slightly.
"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office. " We walked past the cubicles where junior associates toiled over contracts and depositions. I could feel their eyes following us, sense the whispered conversations that would start the moment we were out of earshot. Hartwell's office was impressive. Leather furniture, expensive art, windows that offered a commanding view of the city. It was the kind of room designed to intimidate clients and impress judges.
What can I do for you, Nick? I pulled out my phone and showed him the video from the motel. I thought you should know that one of your employees is conducting personal business during work hours. Hartwell watched the video with the expression of a man who'd seen every possible way that human beings could disappoint each other. When it finished, he handed the phone back without comment.