Conflict of Interest

Chapter Thirty Nine

Carrie

I looked up to a piece of paper being slid under my door.

I didn't know whether it was a death threat or an attorney on my floor trying to be cute, so I used caution as I went to pick it up. It was a printed paper, on official letterhead.

"Green Falls District Attorney - Application for Permanent Position"

I sighed. It was probably the same application I'd filled out when I was twenty four, only now it was for a different position. I opened the door, wondering if Carter was still outside.

Of course he hadn't moved.

"Good morning, Counselor," he said with a shit-eating grin.

I just held up the paper and looked back at him.

"Just thought you might need it," he said innocently.

"Thank you," I said. "For pushing me against the wall."

"You know it's your choice in the end," he said. "But the deadline to file with the Election Board is this week."

I sighed. "I don't like the word election."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not a politician. I wouldn't even know how to be a politician."

"You have a B.A. in Political Science," he reminded me. I just looked at him inquisitively. He shrugged. "I may have read your CV."

I rolled my eyes. Humoring him, I asked, "What did you think?"

"I think it's more impressive than mine. And I couldn't believe all your pro bono work. To be frank, you never struck me as such a humanitarian."

"That's me," I said flatly. "Like Mother Teresa with a cover letter."

"Those are the things you should highlight in your campaign. Your constituents will eat it up."

"I'll bear that in mind."

Behind me, my office phone was ringing. I didn't know whether to answer it.

"PD?" he asked.

"Most likely."

He nodded toward the phone. "Go," he said. "I'll help you file for candidacy later today."

***

Jenn

"Can I go home?"

"Will you stop asking that? You have severe trauma and we can't discharge you until all the labs are back."

"If I'm strong enough to argue, don't you think I'm strong enough to go back to work? I didn't pass out because I was concussed, it was just a vasovagal attack of syncope, derived from the panic, and I promise to take a deep breath once an hour, so that I don't succumb to pneumonia or a partial collapse of the lung tissue."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No, but since I've been in here I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy. None of the channels here work except ABC."

She made a face.

"Okay, between you and me," I began to admit. "I was in for four busted ribs a week ago and I got the speech like eighty times then."

"This is your second time fracturing ribs since last week?"

"Pretty nuts, right?"

"What the hell are you, a prize fighter?"