Pamela Callow - Indefensible

Friday, 5:05 p.m.

T he siren song of the end-of-workday bustle on Halifaxs historic waterfront did not reach law firm McGrath Barrett. Ensconced in the top two floors of one of the citys landmark office towers, McGrath Barrett cocooned its staff from the hubbub of the everyday world with plush carpeting, heavily paneled cubicles and glassed-in offices. Perfect working conditions for honing concentration and maximizing billable hours.

In theory.

Late afternoon summer sunshine beat through Kate Langes office window and landed squarely on her back. Even with air-conditioning, the relentless heat dampened her skin. She slid her office chair sideways. Didnt matter. The sun just poured through the glass lining the far wall, issuing the one siren song that McGrath Barrett could not deflect. It urged her to abandon the personal injuries tome on her desk with its impossibly small print.

She rubbed her temple. Just two more cases to review. Get it over with, Kate. Just like you got through that brutal discovery today. It had finished an hour ago. Her head still throbbed from it, but she needed to check a couple of cases before she could end her workweek in good conscience.

And thena run in the park followed by a night on the town. Hunching over the book, she scowled at the text, mouthing the words. Anything to make them penetrate the late-day haze surrounding her brain.

Ten minutes later, she flipped closed the research book and pushed her chair away from the desk.

Done. It was Friday. It was past 5:00 p.m. It was sunny . As if that werent enough to please the residents of Halifax, it was the start of the Natal Day long weekend, Halifaxs civic holiday. Three days off. In the middle of summer. She was crazy to be sitting at her desk. And from the hush outside her office, it sounded suspiciously as if she was the only lawyer still lingering.

The phone rang while she was shoving files into her briefcase. She stifled a groan. It had better not be a client. With a quick glance at the pure blue sky beyond her window, she snatched the phone off the cradle.

Hey there.

Kates shoulders relaxed at the sound of Natalie Pitts throaty voice. Hi, Nat. She balanced the phone in the crook of her neck and began stacking the reports she would take home with her.

Whatre you up to tonight? Natalie Pitts had been Kates best friend and roomie during her university years. She had moved away after she finished her degree in journalism, only returning in May with high ambitions and a broken heart.

Kate eyed the pile of case reports shed assembled. It was disappointingly thick. Thats what happens when you dont get your work done, Kate. Well, at least she didnt have to lug home that massive personal injuries book. Im heading down to the Economy Shoe Shop later tonight with the gang from workyou know, Joanne and some of the other associates. After Kate saved McGrath Barretts ass in May, she had suddenly been on everyones speed dial. And, Kate had to admit, they were a decent bunch of people, despite the professional elbowing. All of the junior associates were younger than she, still on the singles scene. Kate and Joanne were the only associates in their thirties who were partnerless. The ones with kids hurried home on Friday nights, glad to put the workweek behind them. Do you want to come?

Cant tonight. Ive got to work tomorrow. Nat had miraculously landed a job as a reporter for the Halifax Post, no mean feat in the internet-plagued newspaper business. Do you want to go out for supper before you meet your friends?

Kate hadnt seen Nat since last week. But Alaska, her Siberian husky, had been waiting all day. Even though her dog walker, Finn Scott, took him for walks, she still felt guilty if she didnt come home right after work. Do you want to come over for a bite, instead? My kitchen is under drop sheets, but we can eat on the deck.

Sure. You can give me the tour. Ill bring takeout. See you in an hour.

Can you make it for seven? Ive got some errands to do and Id love to go for a run. Kate smiled. I was able to do the full route on Wednesday.

Hallelujah! So the leg didnt bother you too much? Kates quadriceps had received a nasty stab wound from a scalpel in Mayone of several injuries shed sustained in her battle to the death with the Body Butcher, the citys first serial killer.

Not too much. Kate shrugged. Anyway, I cant baby it any longer.

You mean, you wont baby it any longer.

See you at seven. Kate hung up before Nat could chide her further. Her leg had hurt after the run, but Kate wasnt going to admit it. It was worth the tradeoff. Running was what kept her on an even keel. The rhythmic motion, the synchronization of her heart and lungs with her pumping legs, the fresh air.

There was one other benefit she hoped to gain by resuming her hour-long run: sleep. She hadnt had a full nights sleep since she survived Craig Peters attack. Dr. Kazowski, the therapist who had begun counseling Kate after the trauma she had gone through, thought that if Kate returned to some of her usual routines, especially ones that helped relieve stress, the nightmares might stop. Or at least decrease in frequency.

It was the only nudge Kate needed. And today the weather was giving her its blessing.

She hurried into the foyer, the pile of case reports haphazardly stacked in her arms, a sheen of sweat on her forehead and a smile of anticipation on her lips. In an hour, shed be running with Alaska in Point Pleasant Park. She could almost feel the sea breeze on the back of her neck.

The quiet rush of a newly installed water feature was the only sound in the reception area. It provided a stunning foil to the equally new art installation that hung kitty-corner from the elevators, and served as a perfect backdrop to the new, postmodern furnishings.

Kate jabbed the elevator button. A trickle of sweat slid down her spine. The air-conditioning had been turned off for the weekend while she was on the phone with Nat. Warm air had already begun to settle in the reception area.