Most Wanted by Michele Martinez

realized Mary wasn’t giving an inch, at least not today. Why was she even bothering? She was wasting her time. She had subpoena power. She didn’t need voluntary compliance.
    “Tell Mr. Reed to expect my subpoena. Directed to him personally,” she said, taking a guilty pleasure in watching the woman’s face fall. “No need to show me out. I remember the way.”
    She picked up the manila folder, shoved it in her handbag, and headed for the door.
     
     
    MELANIE STEPPED ONTO THE ELEVATOR, THINKING that little had changed in the few years since she’d left her old law firm. Back then she’d been utterly unable to read these corporate-law types, and she still couldn’t. Mary Hale looked like somebody who was deliberately hiding something, but Melanie couldn’t be sure. These places bred closemouthed, uncooperative attorneys. Maybe Mary never produced documents until she was forced to, as a matter of principle. She probably prided herself on it. Whatever her motive, though, the result was the same. Melanie came away with nothing but a useless piece of paper.
    She looked at her watch and sighed, annoyed at the time she’d wasted. She’d predicted this outcome, so why hadn’t she dispensed with the courtesy visit and sent a subpoena in the first place? Just because Reed, Reed and Watson was such a big name? Next time she’d remember not to be impressed. To top it off, she was on the local. She tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator doors opened on thirty-one and a young woman got on. Melanie recognized the woman by her pink suit as the one who’d checked her out in the reception area earlier. She must be an associate here.
    In defiance of elevator etiquette, the young woman faced Melanie and made eye contact, looking her full in the face. She was in her twenties, quite attractive in a wholesome sort of way, with wide green eyes and long, light brown hair. She took a step closer, leaning toward Melanie purposefully.
    “You’re the prosecutor?” she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial.
    “Yes. Why?” Melanie’s heart began to pound. She knew this was important.
    The elevator stopped on thirty. As the doors glided open, the young woman snapped around to face the front, her face blank and composed, as if she’d never spoken to Melanie.
    A middle-aged man in a charcoal pin-striped suit got on.
    “Well, hello, Sarah,” he said pleasantly. “Still buried in that Securilex transaction?”
    When the doors opened on twenty-nine a moment later, they both got off. The woman was obviously not willing to be seen speaking to Melanie. Why not? Sarah. Melanie pulled out the manila folder and made a note of the name, nodding to herself. How many young female attorneys named Sarah worked at Reed, Reed and Watson? Shouldn’t be too difficult to track down. Maybe her trip hadn’t been a waste of time after all.
     
11
     
    THE STREETS AROUND HER OFFICE WERE CLOGGED with cars and buses by the time Melanie got back downtown. It was rush hour, still threatening rain, and everybody in the world seemed to be heading home except her. She sat in traffic waiting to turn into the lot to return the borrowed G-car, stomach tight with anxiety. Where had the day gone? She’d never even called Elsie to ask her to stay late.
    Walking into her building, too frazzled to make conversation, she pretended not to see Shekeya Jenkins heading straight for her. But Shekeya spotted her and called out her name.
    “Yo, Melanie! Look, I got ’em done at lunchtime!”
    Melanie couldn’t help smiling. “Okay, lemme see.”
    She held out her hand, and Shekeya placed hers on it, fingers splayed. On each fingernail a white dove decal flew over a multicolored rainbow, set against a pearly blue sky decorated with gemstone stars.
    “Wow, Shekeya, they’re amazing!”
    “Girl, that woman is an artist. She take half my paycheck, but it’s worth every penny.” Shekeya laughed but then turned serious. “Listen, you a decent person, so I’ma do