"Get swept up in a plot full of events that could lurk right around the next corner."
Reviewed by Lynn Cunningham
Posted December 29, 2010
Thriller Psychological | Thriller Legal
Attorney Kate Lange is getting back on her feet after nearly
losing her life to a notorious serial killer when she is
suddenly pulled into the position of defending her boss.
Randall Barrett is a high profile attorney in Toronto whose
ex-wife, Elise Vanderzell, has been found dead at the foot
of a balcony at a house in which she was a guest. Their two
children, Nick and Lucy, found her lifeless body lying on
the concrete. At first, it seemed that Elise had jumped to
her death. However, after some questioning of the children
and Randall, it's looking more and more as if Elise was
murdered. The worst part is that Nick saw the murderer and
swears it is his father. It doesn't help that a few short
hours before Elise died, she and Randall had a bad argument
that was witnessed by their children. On top of that,
Randall went out drinking and had a black out. So he doesn't
remember exactly what he did before he was picked up by the
Coast Guard. Could he have killed Elise? Kate definitely has her work cut out for her. In the midst
of all of this, unbeknown to Kate, there's a deranged and
dangerous soul on the loose with eyes on someone very close
to the Barrett family. All she knows is that she has
suddenly been plunged into the middle of having to fight
what may be the most important court case of her life. Eddie
Bent, an old attorney friend of Randall's, has been retained
by Randall. Eddie has his own issues due to being a
recovering alcoholic even though, at one point, he was a
legal force to be reckoned with. Now, however, he is
suspended from the bar and cannot legally practice law. So
Randall pulls Kate in to defend him in court with Eddie
helping her from the behind the scenes. Will Kate be able to pull this off and save Randall? What
about those feelings that seem to be simmering between the
two of them? Before anything can be resolved, they will need
to fight for their very lives and that of Randall's children. INDEFENSIBLE is a book with believable characters that are
not perfect. That's what makes them so easy to like. They
make mistakes and they handle these mistakes in a believable
manner. There's just the right amount of intrigue and
mystery, and Kate Lange is someone you can totally see
yourself hanging out with, if she has the time for you, of
course. With an undercurrent of romance, this is an enticing
book. More good news is that this is the 2nd in the Kate
Lange series. Do yourself a favor and jump in the middle of
these amazing books. You won't be able to put them down
until the final page.
SUMMARY
When Elyse Vanderzell plummets from her bedroom balcony
one gorgeous summer night, her children awaken to a
nightmare. THEIR MOTHER IS DEAD.
THEIR FATHER
IS CHARGE WITH HER MURDER Lawyer Kate Lange knows all
about nightmares. She's survived the darkest period of her
troubled life and the wounds are sill raw. Now she's been
handed a cast that seems utterly unwinnable: defending her
boss, high-profile lawyer Randall Barrett. A prosecutor's
dream suspect, Randall is a man who was cuckolded by he
ex-wife. A man who could not control his temper. A man who
had argued bitterly with the victim the previous day in full
view of the children. With limited criminal law
experience, Kate finds herself enmeshed in a family
fractured by doubt. Randall's teenage son is intent on
killing him. His daughter wants only to feel safe again. And
the entire legal community would like nothing better than to
see Randall receive a public comeuppance. As Kate races to
stay a step ahead of the prosecution, a silent predator is
waiting for the perfect time to deal the final blow.
ExcerptFriday, 5:05 p.m.The siren song of the end-of-workday bustle on Halifax's
historic waterfront did not reach law firm McGrath Barrett.
Ensconced in the top two floors of one of the city's
landmark office towers, McGrath Barrett co-cooned 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 Lange's
office window and landed squarely on her back. Even with
air-conditioning, the relentless heat dampened her skin. She
slid her office chair sideways. Didn't 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 then—a 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 weren't enough to please the residents of Halifax,
it was the start of the Natal Day long weekend, Halifax's
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." Kate's 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. "What're you up to tonight?" Natalie Pitts had been Kate's
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 she'd assembled. It was
disappointingly thick. That's what happens when you don't
get your work done, Kate. Well, at least she didn't have to
lug home that massive personal injuries book. "I'm heading
down to the Economy Shoe Shop later tonight with the gang
from work—you know, Joanne and some of the other
associates." After Kate saved McGrath Barrett's ass in May,
she had suddenly been on everyone's 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?" "Can't tonight. I've 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 hadn't 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 didn't 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. I'll bring takeout. See you
in an hour." "Can you make it for seven? I've got some errands to do and
I'd love to go for a run." Kate smiled. "I was able to do
the full route on Wednesday." "Hallelujah! So the leg didn't bother you too much?" Kate's
quadriceps had received a nasty stab wound from a scalpel in
May—one of several injuries she'd sustained in her battle to
the death with the Body Butcher, the city's first serial killer. "Not too much." Kate shrugged. "Anyway, I can't baby it any
longer." "You mean, you won't 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 wasn't
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 hadn't had a full night's
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, she'd 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. The lack of human sound prickled the hairs on the back of
Kate's neck. Ever since her experience in Keane's Funeral
Home, silent places were ominous. To distract herself, she studied the redecorated lobby.
After the hits the former Lyons McGrath Barrett had taken to
its standing a few months ago, the firm was working hard to
restore its sterling reputation. It needed to recover some
of the clients that had fled in the wake of the TransTissue
scandal. Managing partner Randall Barrett—the Barrett in
McGrath Barrett—had hired a public relations company to
relaunch the firm under its new name. In an effort to
distance itself from the scandal that now tarnished its
prestige, McGrath Barrett had redecorated the foyer and
launched a new ad campaign. The campaign zeroed in on the firm's best asset: Kate
Lange—the woman Randall Barrett had almost fired just months
before. The irony was delicious. Kate had become the firm's
new poster girl, her Mona Lisa smile featured above the
slogan Integrity. Excellence. Caring. The joke in the firm
was that Kate cared so much about her clients that she'd
kill for them. Rumor had it that Randall Barrett had chosen the new
furnishings in the lobby and Kate had to admit he had a good
eye. She wondered what her hundred-year-old house would look
like with a postmodern theme. Probably pretty nice. Too bad she couldn't afford pieces like that. She glanced at
her watch. If the darn elevator ever arrived, and the
traffic wasn't too heavy, she could stop at the hardware
store and get the paint for the kitchen trim before she went
for her run. She shifted the load of files in her arms, rubbing the
straining muscles of her right forearm. The elevator chimed. Kate's nerves jolted. She gritted her
teeth. Her reaction to startling noises was driving her
crazy. Dr. Kazowski told her it would go away in time, but
so far there was no sign of it being in a hurry to leave.
She yanked the strap of her briefcase back up to her
shoulder, unsettling the pile of reports in the process, and
hurried into the elevator. "Hi, Kate." Randall Barrett stood in a dim corner of the
elevator. He gave her a friendly but distant nod, the
typical interaction of a senior partner with a junior associate. "Hi." Kate hugged the reports to her chest, darting a
sideways glance at him. It was the first time she'd seen him in weeks. The first
time she'd been alone with him since she'd returned to work
in early June. Randall's face was tense, preoccupied. He did not exude his
usual vitality. In fact, he looked exhausted. Kate stared straight ahead, unwilling to let him see how
much his presence got under her skin. Did he sense her
tension? she wondered. Whatever you do, don't babble, Kate. At the fourteenth floor, he broke the silence. "Any plans
for the weekend?" His tone was courteous. That was all. She shifted against the wall. "Not too much. Just painting
my house." She nodded toward her overflowing arms. "I'm
working on the Great Life case. It's taking a lot of time." That should make him happy. Lots of billable hours. He nodded almost absentmindedly. "Good." The silence grew as the elevator descended. Kate studied the
numbers above the door. Eleven, ten. She heard Randall's
breathing. The elevator was stuffy. She became aware of the
faint scent of his sweat. Something she'd never smelled
before. She darted another glance at him. He was oblivious
to her. She turned her face away. For the past three months, she'd
wondered if she'd just imagined his interest in her. Then
she'd tell herself, no, she hadn't dreamed his visit to her
hospital room. And she knew there'd been a tenderness to his
gaze the day she returned to work after recovering from her
injuries. But it had all changed. Almost overnight, he had become
distant. Had seemed to avoid her. Definitely letting her
know by his cool greeting and remote smile that whatever
moments had been exchanged between them during the
TransTissue file were not going to be repeated. Maybe he'd been faking it. Maybe he'd just been using her to
help shore up McGrath Barrett's rocky reputation after the
TransTissue scandal. He stared at the elevator doors, his shoulders tense, his
expression brooding. A man with the weight of the world on
his shoulders. She wondered what he did in his spare time.
Did he play sports? Read books? Go on dates? The fact that she knew so little about him was another
indication that she should just leave well enough alone.
Whatever drew her to him could not be founded on anything
that promised a permanent residence for her battle-weary heart. The elevator stopped at P1, chiming Randall's departure. He
moved toward the doors. "Have a good month, Kate." Month? He must have read the surprise in her face because he added,
"I'm beginning my vacation." "Really?" He didn't have the air of a man about to take a
holiday. He arched a brow. "Really." The doors slid open. "Are you going anywhere?" "I'm going sailing." He stepped out of the elevator. "With
my son." With a brusque nod, he disappeared into the shadowed
concrete corridor of the parkade. Kate watched the elevator doors close. Not even a goodbye. She exhaled, staring at her dull reflection in the mirrored
doors. Fine. The elevator stopped at her parking level. She strode into
the parkade, her step quick and purposeful. But it didn't
matter. Her heart pounded. She could park on a different
level, close to the elevator, always by an overhead
light—but no matter the tricks she employed to fool her
mind, her body always remembered the terror of being chased
by a man intent on killing her. She looked around. The parkade was empty. That was almost worse. She hurried to her car and unlocked the door, dumping her
files on the backseat, then slid into the driver's seat.
Only when the doors were locked and the engine was started
did her heart slow down. She eased her way out of the parkade. The brilliant July
sunshine almost blinded her as she drove through the gate.
It was surreal, after the dank interior she'd just exited.
She rolled down her window. A warm breeze lifted the hair
around her face. This was why Nova Scotians slogged it through the winter.
Because there was no better place to be in the summer if the
sun was shining. She felt her fingers relax on the steering wheel. She'd get
the paint, enjoy her run, have supper with Nat and go for a
few drinks. No one would stop her from enjoying the sunshine. Friday, 5:38p.m. Elise Vanderzell stuffed a potato chip into her mouth. Damn,
it tasted good. That's what she loved about road trips: the
junk food. She knew she shouldn't indulge, shouldn't let her
kids indulge, but this was their summer vacation. And after the hellishness of the months leading up to it,
they deserved to enjoy every salt-slicked, grease-laden bite. She eased the car into the long line of rush hour traffic on
Robie Street, glancing in her rearview mirror. Her son,
Nick, lounged against the backseat. It was funny how you can
see someone all the time and never notice anything
different, but then throw a casual look at them one day and
realize that the world had shifted. It took Elise a moment to register what was different. Then
it hit her: Nick seemed comfortable in his own skin. His
body was filling out, no longer a tangle of gangly limbs
connected to gargantuan feet. But it was more than that.
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