look. “Well, give Joey a hug for me,” before she gave up the pretense of raking and disappeared around the side of her house.
“Joey? I thought his name was Aaron.”
Ordinarily the disdain in Morgan’s voice would have annoyed Rosalie, but under the circumstances she could have kissed him for his mistake.
Relief slumped one hip against the car. Or maybe it was the idea of kissing Morgan had made her knees so wobbly.
“Mrs. Peterson gets confused,” she said.
“Humph.” He put the larger painting behind the seat, slammed the passenger door shut, and went around to the driver’s side.
She stepped away from the car. “Thank you for showing the paintings to your friend.”
“I’m an art lover, what can I say?”
His smile made her heart want to burst into sappy, sentimental songs.
This man was the enemy, she reminded herself. Even if he was a spectacularly gorgeous enemy.
“I’ll let you know what the dealer says.”
She sighed when he drove off, unsure whether it was from relief or longing.
Morgan realized too late it was a mistake to call Lillian from the condo that afternoon before he called Rosalie to report back on his visit to the art dealer.
“You’re not giving up?” his stepmother asked plaintively.
“I’ve run out of leads, and I need to get back to work.”
“You believe what that woman told you?”
He thought a moment. “Yes. I’m sure she was telling the truth.”
“Men can be so stupid when it comes to a pretty face.”
He started to say Rosalie’s face wasn’t pretty, but it was. Very pretty. Maybe beautiful. When she forgot to be wary and angry.
“If you couldn’t get anywhere with the sympathy angle, have you tried the famous Danby charm to get her to tell you where my grandchild is?”
“Lillian, there is no grandchild.”
“Without a death certificate, you can’t be sure of that.”
“But I can’t get a death certificate if I don’t know the child’s name, or when or where it may have died.” Or was born.
He sat up straighter in his chair.
Damn. Why hadn’t he realized that there could be more than one reason Márya wasn’t pregnant when she came to L.A.? The blasted lady lawyer might have tricked him after all.
“Morgan, talk to her one more time.”
He would definitely talk to Ms. Walker one more time. The sexy, scheming little …
Sexy? How could he still think of the lying lady lawyer as sexy?
“All right, Lillian.”
Luckily, the art dealer’s enthusiasm for the paintings by Ms. Walker’s mother gave Morgan a perfect pretense for seeing her again. He said goodbye to his stepmother and punched in Ms. Walker’s number. A few minutes later he disconnected with a smile. An appointment for Monday afternoon was perfect.
The first thing Rosalie noticed when Morgan walked into her office on Monday afternoon was that he didn’t have the two paintings with him.
Well, that was the second thing she noticed, after taking in how good he looked in designer black jeans, white shirt, and brown suede jacket. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at him. She gestured him to a chair and sat down, expecting a report on his visit to the art gallery.
Instead she got a sucker punch to the gut.
“How many weeks’ pregnant did you say Márya Mendelev was when you first met her?”
“Three months’.”
He watched her face carefully as she answered, but it was the truth. That was what she’d said. She knew she was a bad liar, so she’d made a mental note of her exact words.
Still, her heart beat a jerky rhythm from the surprise attack she’d barely managed to deflect. What had happened to make him suspicious again?
“And she filed for protection in L.A. three months later?”
Rosalie remained frozen, afraid any move, the slightest change in facial expression, might give her away. “Approximately. I’d have to check the exact date.”
“Which means that the child could have been born in the meantime. A six-month pregnancy isn’t all that unusual.”
“It’s rare enough.” She thanked her legal training for the ability to focus on the facts, not the rush of adrenalin speeding through her system. “Rarer than a miscarriage due to a violent attack on the mother. You’re clutching at straws, Mr. Danby.”
“But if Charlie beat this woman …” Rosalie flinched. “If his attack on Ms. Mendelev resulted in the death of an unborn child, why wasn’t a police report filed?”
On firmer ground, she took a deep breath. “The assault occurred in Yosemite, on federal land. The death would be reported in the city of Merced. Ms. Mendelev and her attacker lived in rural Merced County. Even if she hadn’t been grief-stricken and justifiably frightened to death of Charlie, to whom would she report it? Feds? Police? Sheriff?”
“Wouldn’t the hospital report it to the police in Merced?” he asked with a nasty smile.
“They might have if she hadn’t lied and told them she fell.”
“The hospital believed her injuries were due to a fall?”
“Of course not. But as long as she stuck to that story, they had no option.”
He leaned forward, the nasty smile now a nasty glare. “What about you, Ms. Walker? You obviously didn’t believe her story. Why didn’t you report it to the proper authorities?”
“Márya was too afraid of Charlie.”
“Wouldn’t she have been safer with Charlie in jail?”
“Until he got out. How much do you know about family violence, Mr. Danby?”
“Too much.” His curt answer seemed to surprise even him. “But that’s beside the point. As an officer of the court, you had a duty to see the crime was reported.”
“Not if the victim and only witness refused to cooperate.”
“It was your duty to persuade her to cooperate. You practice family law. You must have dealt with domestic assault before. Why was this case any different from those?”
Rosalie had tried not to say too much about Márya’s legal situation, partly to protect her privacy, partly to deprive Morgan Danby of a potential weapon. But now she had no choice.
“I’m surprised your P.I. didn’t discover that Ms. Mendelev’s immigration status was, shall we say, uncertain. She had a student visa, but your brother persuaded her to leave school. Once she was dependent on him, he told her they’d send her to prison for being an illegal. She was terrified of police and prisons. That’s why she stayed with him for as long as she did, and why she didn’t file for a protection order until he found her again here in L.A.”
Morgan’s stomach twisted with disgust. Damn, but Charlie was scum.
He’d been so sure Ms. Walker had lied to him, still wasn’t one thousand percent certain she hadn’t, but she was a better lawyer than he’d given her credit for. She’d have convinced any jury in the world beyond a reasonable doubt that Márya Mendelev had miscarried after one of Charlie’s beatings. If he wasn’t convinced, it was because his doubts weren’t reasonable. Or because he dreaded telling Lillian.
Ms. Walker’s