The Paediatrician's Personal Protector. Mallory Kane

daughter that was murdered? That’s an NOPD case. It was shelved as a mugging five years ago.”

      Reilly sat down in the chair across from Ryker’s desk. “Albert Moser’s older daughter sought me out at the courthouse yesterday. Thought I was you. She gave me an earful before I could get a word in to tell her she had the wrong twin.”

      “Oh, yeah, Doctor Moser. The Ice Queen.”

      Reilly smiled and shook his head. “Ice Queen? Yeah, not so much. She was attacked last night at her cottage at the Oak Grove Inn.”

      Ryker sat and pushed folders out of his way. He leaned back. “I heard about the attack. I’ve just started looking into Autumn’s case again to get a better read on Christy’s situation. She okay?”

      “Broken wrist and contusions.”

      “How’re you involved? Other than your obvious preference for tall gorgeous brunettes. Tell me she doesn’t have green eyes.”

      Reilly pointedly ignored him. “Yesterday, I told her I’d have you get in touch with her, and I gave her my cell number.”

      “Your cell number. Why didn’t you give her mine?” Ryker’s blue eyes sparked with mischief.

      Reilly didn’t bother to answer. “When she was attacked, she managed to grab her phone and quick-dial my number.”

      “So you were first on scene?”

      “Yeah. I called for backup, but by the time I got there the guy was gone.” Reilly took a breath. “You won’t believe what he said to her.”

      Ryker waited.

      “He told her, ‘Get out of town or you’re as dead as your sister.’“

      “He said that?”

      Reilly nodded. “So what did you find out about the case? Is NOPD going to look at it again?”

      “Doubt it. I called Dixon Lloyd at the Eighth, down on Royal Street in the Quarter, and got the name of the detective who caught Autumn Moser’s case. His name was—” Ryker grabbed a small notepad that lay on the corner of his desk and paged through it for a few seconds. “Fred Samhurst.”

      Reilly grabbed a piece of paper from Ryker’s trash can and made a note. “Samhurst. What’d he have to say?”

      “Where are you going with this, kid?”

      “Christy could have been killed last night. Her life was threatened. And if the man who attacked her didn’t kill her sister, he knows who did.”

      “Well, Moser never gave up the notion that his daughter was killed by someone she knew. He thought it was a married man. He said his daughter told him the man was obsessive about keeping the affair quiet. Said his reputation and his career would be in jeopardy. Who’s handling Christy’s case?”

      “Wait a minute,” Reilly said. “Go back to the married man. His reputation and career would be in jeopardy?”

      Ryker shrugged. “That’s what he told me. I thought maybe it was someone Moser knew, and that’s why she wouldn’t tell him. But Moser insisted he didn’t know anybody who would be fired if he was caught having an affair.”

      “But she thought Moser would recognize him?”

      “I thought about that. Maybe he wouldn’t have known the man. Not personally. Maybe the guy was a celebrity or a politician. Someone in the public eye.” Ryker leaned back in his chair. “Moser nixed the celebrity idea. Said if the man were rich, Autumn would have made him buy her stuff. He was right about that. There was no sign in her belongings that someone was spending money on her.”

      “So maybe what he bought her was drugs,” Reilly said.

      Ryker’s brows drew down into a frown. “Why all the questions? What are you up to, kid?”

      “I want to help Christy. I want to find the bastard who attacked her and see what he knows. What I don’t understand is why no one listened to her father. Why wasn’t Autumn Moser’s case reopened a long time ago?”

      “I can’t answer that. I can tell you that the detective who caught the case probably missed something.”

      Reilly laughed without humor. “Yeah? You think so?”

      “Do you want to hear what I know? I’ve got plenty to do. I could just let you dig it up yourself.”

      “Don’t go all big-brother master detective on me, Ryker.” Reilly hated it when Ryker took that supercilious attitude.

      “Fine. Dixon didn’t want to rag on a fellow detective, but he did tell me that a couple of years ago Samhurst had a mild heart attack. Said he lost a lot of weight—maybe thirty pounds or so—which left him about forty pounds overweight.”

      “Are you kidding me? He was that overweight and out of shape? No telling what he missed. How in hell is he still on active duty? “

      Ryker shrugged. “Everybody’s shorthanded.”

      “What else did Dixon tell you?”

      “Nothing. I talked to Samhurst, but he didn’t have much to say. He got real defensive and claimed he didn’t remember much. I asked him why three point-blank shots to the chest didn’t throw up a red flag, but he didn’t have an answer.”

      “Three shots to the chest? That’s how she died? Holy—” Reilly felt a sick weight in his chest. “No wonder Christy wants someone to reopen the case. Did you know she was on the phone with her sister when she was shot?”

      “Yep. She gave me the gist of the conversation, and I got copies of her sister’s case file from NOPD.”

      “Yeah? What about the sister’s phone? Christy said it turned up missing.”