Chapter 18

Ms. Morgan walked up to Dalton with a quick, sure stride. Her heels clicked on the concrete with a tone that set off warnings in my head. Her determination had returned in full force.

Dalton noticed too, shot me a quick glare, and then eased off the Suburban as if getting ready for a fight.

I didn’t think it would come to blows, but I didn’t know either woman well enough to be certain, so I quickly closed the distance between us, but didn’t touch anyone.

Dalton towered over Ms. Morgan by several inches. The Sheriff probably also had training to handle herself in a fight, which gave me all the more reason to want to protect Ms. Morgan. However, the Sheriff’s expression was a mix of mild confusion and sufferance. She knew whom to blame for this but not how to get the woman in front of her to back away before she got hurt.

“What’s your name, officer?” Ms. Morgan asked her, sounding very professional and direct.

Dalton’s brow furrowed at Ms. Morgan’s reference to her title. “Dalton,” she said calmly.

“And which county do you report to?” Ms. Morgan asked.

Dalton studied Ms. Morgan. “Who are you to demand that of me?”

Oh boy. A pissing match of who has authority over whom.

“My name is Linda Morgan,” Ms. Morgan said. “And I represent Mr. Connors on all legal matters. I understand that you’re investigating a case that he’s involved in somehow. What case?”

A touch of surprise flitted across Dalton’s face. Had she expected me to tell everyone that I was a Magus? As quick as it was there though, she wasn’t perturbed. “Mr. Connors is consulting for me,” she said. “And that has no legal bearing, so you have no need to know.”

Ms. Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “If your case is connected with the case the feds are working – the same one they questioned Mr. Connors about today – then, yes, it has a legal bearing, and yes, I do need to know.”

Dalton smiled. It wasn’t friendly either. She shook her head slowly and said, “No, counselor, you don’t. And if Mr. Connors breaks confidentiality with me to tell you, then he’ll be arrested for obstruction of justice.”

Damn. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

“Which would require you to disclose everything to me that pertains to the case of which he’s obstructing,” Ms. Morgan said without even the smallest flinch of concern.

I was impressed.

Dalton continued to smile that evil smile. “Not in an ongoing investigation. I know the laws as well as you do.”

“Fine,” Ms. Morgan said with all the air of someone who hadn’t been stopped dead in her proverbial tracks, “I’ll get a subpoena for the general details of your case.”

Dalton’s smile never faltered. She relaxed against the Suburban again. “Good luck with that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to speak with my consultant. Privately.”

Ms. Morgan stared at Dalton for another few seconds and then looked back at me with a less-severe expression. “I’ll wait at the door.” To me, she said that as if there was something she hadn’t said, such as, “Just in case you need me.”

She gave Dalton one last glance and then slipped past her toward the apartment.

I stepped closer but remained out of easy reach. “How long have you been out here waiting?”

“Only a couple of minutes,” she said. “I didn’t expect to have to come out and interrupt anything so that you would get out of the car and talk to me.”

“Well, if you’re worried about the feds, then don’t,” I said. “I didn’t mention your case to them.” Then I thought about how Ms. Morgan had concluded I was still holding something back even after telling her about the missing girls. “However, they probably suspect I wasn’t telling them everything.”

Dalton’s eyes flicked this way and that. “I would too. You’re not a very good liar.”

“Well, it’s not like they asked me if I was working with any other agencies on a different case,” I said.

Dalton focused on me and said, “Didn’t you try to convince me that the two cases were linked?”

“They are,” I said. “But you know they’d never understand the big problem.”

She nodded. “Okay, well then you better get your lawyer inside. Wouldn’t want her to catch a cold or something.”

I frowned and studied her face. She was concentrating on keeping an eye out as if she were my bodyguard on the watch. “Why are you suddenly being so nice about this?” I asked. “You know I want to tell her about our case.”

She focused on me again. “Yes, I do. And, unlike you or the girls you’ve chosen, I would expect her to keep her mouth shut about everything you tell her.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward my apartment. “Now get going.”

I stared at her for another second and then slipped past her. Had she just approved my idea to make Ms. Morgan a Fonte? I wanted to trust her, if for no other reason than because of the difficult position she was in trying to solve the Lockdown, but warning claxons were going off in my head. She was up to something.

Ms. Morgan stood by the door, just as she said she would be. I checked the knob. It was unlocked, so I pushed the door open.

“Do you always leave your place unlocked?” she asked.

“Only when I’m unexpectedly whisked away by the authorities,” I said halfway under my breath. The lights were on and a blonde was bent over on the far side of the couch. It took me a second to recognize Faith, mostly because I was distracted by the fact that she didn’t have a top on – not even a bra. She pulled up a shirt and quickly slipped it on.

“Who is that?” Ms. Morgan quietly asked.

I blinked and looked down at her. “Um ... my sister, Faith.” I looked at Faith again to find her walking our way. “She’s staying with me until she finds her own place.”

She wasn’t wearing the same oversized t-shirt as last night. No, this shirt was much tighter and it was apparently put together with someone of her chest size in mind because it not only hugged her breasts in delightful ways, but it was tight over her midriff too. It did nothing to keep her breasts in place though and with each step, her mounds bounced and swayed. It took a lot of effort not to stare.

Faith held out her hand to Ms. Morgan. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said sweetly and threw me a chastising glance.

Ms. Morgan shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Faith, I’m your brother’s defense attorney, Linda Morgan.”

Faith’s eyes widened and she turned to me. “What did you do?”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing,” I said. “The FBI had some questions for me and Ms. Morgan is working on a different aspect of the same case.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “The F B I?” she emphasized each letter. “What the hell are you involved in that the FBI is asking you questions?”

I opened my mouth while thinking of the simplest way to answer her, but Ms. Morgan nudged me back and said, “It’s an ongoing investigation. As such, Seth is not to answer any questions about it.”

Faith frowned at Ms. Morgan, glanced at me again, and then said, “Okay. Well, I’m heading out with some of my new co-workers, who were helping me hunt apartments earlier.”

I finally tore my eyes away from her chest and looked further down. She was wearing a pretty short skirt with that top. It was an ensemble my girls would wear when trying to catch my attention. I thumbed back at the door. “It’s getting pretty chilly outside. Shouldn’t you put on something more?”

Faith stared at me for a second with that same odd expression I saw yesterday. “I have a coat. I’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of her shift in attitude. “It’s not just the cold you should worry about.”

Faith smiled sweetly. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know how to take care of myself.” Then she grabbed a coat from the rack Danielle got for me only the week before. The coat was long enough to reach her knees and had long-furred trim. It looked plenty warm and made her look as if she might be wearing nothing but the coat, her shoes, and her smile. It was an image I had to shake out of my head.

“Don’t wait up,” she said and slipped past us and out the door.

For a second, the apartment was filled with awkward silence. Then I turned toward the kitchen and asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

She walked over to the couch, taking off her suit jacket again. “You’re too young to have anything harder than coffee,” she said with a longing sigh. “How about tea?”

I looked in the fridge and considered offering her one of the vodka malt beverages Katrina enjoyed, but thought better of it. I grabbed the pitcher of tea, pulled two glasses out of the cabinet, and poured our drinks. After putting away the tea, I took the glasses over to the couch, handed her one, and sat across from her.

She took a sip, which turned into a longer drink, and then set the glass down, half drained. “Didn’t realize I was so thirsty.”

It was dinner time anyway, so I suggested, “And probably hungry too.” I pulled out my phone. “I can order something.”

She looked at me oddly. “I’m the one who should be trying to persuade you into talking about what you not allowed to tell me, yet you’re the one making offers of drinks and food. Why is that?”

I looked at her, not sure what I should say. “It’s just polite.”

She chuckled and laughed. “So, I’m guessing the Sheriff warned you about discussing her case with me.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“And there’s nothing I can do to persuade you?” she asked and crossed her legs.

Her movement put me in mind of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, a movie Cassandra made me watch as an example of how someone with a degree in psychology could manipulate others no matter their intelligence or training. I had to point out the fact that Sharon Stone’s character was also armed with something every man would like to see, which made that contest completely one-sided.

Tonight, however, with that scene in mind, I understood exactly what those investigators felt. I could play with the suggestible idea or go straight to the point. Considering how eventful the last two days had been, straight to the point was probably the better option. “There is a way,” I said, but nothing more. She had to ask the right questions.