LITMIR.BIZ

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with a look of such sweet maternal softness that Eric found himself struggling to breathe.

      “And who have we here?” Bree asked.

      MacKenzie ignored her.

      “This is my daughter, MacKenzie,” Eric said. “MacKenzie, this is Dr. Johnson.”

      “Hi, MacKenzie. You can call me Bree.” Her voice was soft, nonprovoking. “Nice to meet you.”

      MacKenzie kept her eyes on her coloring book, where she was filling in Cinderella’s dress with a brown crayon.

      “Is that Cinderella?” Bree asked.

      “Mmm-hmm,” MacKenzie replied.

      “You’re good at coloring. You really know how to stay inside the lines. Me, when I color, I’m really messy. I bet you get gold stars in your art class.”

      “I get all As,” MacKenzie said matter-of-factly.

      “Where’s Philomene?” Eric asked. “I’d like to move this along so I don’t keep MacKenzie out too late.”

      “Of course.” Bree looked around. “I’ll go ask if she’s here. If the waitress comes, order me a meat loaf special and a coffee.”

      “Caffeine doesn’t bother you this late at night?”

      “Unfortunately, no. If it did, maybe I wouldn’t drink so much of the stuff.” She slid out of the booth and headed for Molly. Eric studied her retreating form at leisure, especially those gently swaying hips.

      MacKenzie was staring, too.

      “See, she’s not so scary,” Eric said.

      MacKenzie shrugged and turned her attention to the menu. “I don’t see ice cream on here.”

      Eric flipped the pages until he found desserts. “Right here. Chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.”

      She put her finger on the menu where Eric had pointed and attempted to sound out the words. The waitress stopped back, and Eric dutifully ordered Bree’s meat loaf special. “I’ll have the same thing,” he added. “And a grilled cheese and tomato soup for the little one.”

      “You want a soda with that?” the perky waitress asked.

      MacKenzie nodded, but Eric shook his head. “Milk.” Bree might not be bothered by caffeine, but it made MacKenzie spin like a top.

      As soon as the waitress left, Bree returned, a worried frown on her face. “Philomene’s not here. She should have gotten off work at six.”

      “Maybe she got held up.”

      “Maybe. But wouldn’t she call?”

      “You’re asking me? I’ve never met this woman.”

      “She should have called,” Bree said decisively.

      Eric stifled a groan. He should have known this was a fool’s errand. “Sounds like maybe she had a change of heart.”

      “When I talked to her yesterday, she sounded really eager to unburden herself. The guilt has been eating her alive.”

      “You said she was nervous about changing her story. She probably just got cold feet.”

      “I hope that’s all it is.” Bree already had her phone in her hand. “I’ll call her and see what’s what.”

      The waitress brought MacKenzie’s milk and Bree’s coffee. Bree took a healthy gulp of the stuff, black, while waiting for Philomene to pick up.

      “Hi, Philomene, it’s me, Bree,” she said after a few moments. “I’m at the diner with Eric Riggs from Project Justice. Please call me when you get a chance.” She was still frowning as she hung up.

      “Look, Daddy, I finished.” MacKenzie displayed her coloring work. Although the colors were a little drab, she’d kept within the lines in her usual meticulous fashion.

      “Very nice, sweetheart.”

      Cautiously, she turned the page around and slid it toward Bree.

      Bree smiled, and again her face was transformed.

      She ought to smile more often, Eric thought.

      “Very good work, MacKenzie. I think I might have something here...” She dug into her purse. “I do. Would you like a glitter heart or a gold star?”

      “Heart, heart heart heart!”

      Eric was touched. Had Bree put those stickers in her purse just for MacKenzie? Or... “You must have kids.”

      A stark sadness flashed across Bree’s face before she masked it. “No, no kids. But I keep a few things on hand for children who come through the E.R.”

      “So emergency medicine is your specialty?” She’d said earlier today that she’d met Philomene in the E.R., but he wanted to keep her talking about herself.

      “Yes. I work at the county hospital.”

      He wondered how many men faked serious illness in the hopes that lovely Bree would minister to them. Images flashed through his mind of Bree’s soft, pale hands touching him—in the most innocent, doctorly ways, of course.

      God, what was he doing? He clenched his eyes shut until the images dissipated. He couldn’t afford to think of her like that. He needed to get her and her misguided agenda out of his life.

      “Oh, no,” Bree said under her breath, her gaze fixed on the door.

      Eric turned to look. A big, beefy guy with dark close-cropped hair in a well-tailored dress shirt and pants had just entered, accompanied by a shorter, more slender man with thinning curly hair and thick glasses. The shorter one’s clothes were rumpled, and as Molly showed them to a table, he walked with a slightly lurching gait, as if he had an issue with his hip or knee.

      “Darn it, they’re headed this way.” Bree lowered her head and took another sip of coffee, playing with a strand of her hair to shield her face.

      “Well, if it isn’t the crusading lady doctor.” The larger of the two men, clearly the alpha in this pack of two, had paused by their booth, proving Bree’s attempt to be inconspicuous hadn’t worked.

      “Hello, Mr. Needles,” she said wearily, offering him a tight, almost hostile smile.

      “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

      “Eric, this is District Attorney Sam Needles, the man who put Kelly in prison. Sam, this is Eric Riggs. He’s an attorney with Project Justice,” she said meaningfully.

      Sam Needles didn’t take the hand Eric extended. Instead, he laughed. “Surely you’re kidding. You actually think Project Justice can get your no-good boyfriend out of prison? You ought to know that dog won’t hunt.”

      Eric withdrew his hand, which had clenched into a fist. He didn’t know Bree very well, and he even agreed with Needles’s assessment of Ralston. But Needles had no call to be out-and-out rude.

      “Sam,” the other man said to his friend, “leave her be.”

      “Eric, this is Ted Gentry,” Bree said in a friendlier tone of voice. “He’s our county coroner. Normally a perfectly nice man, though he could keep better company.”

      Gentry grinned. “Sam’s okay if you catch him on a good day. And he said he’d pay for dinner.”

      “Least I could do, after you let me keep all the fish we caught,” Needles said with a hearty laugh.

      “We did some fishing last night out at Willowbrook,” Gentry explained. “Sheriff’s got a place there. I like to catch ’em, not eat ’em.”

      Sam Needles sobered. “Don’t drag me back to court, Bree. It’s a waste of everyone’s time.” He sauntered off.

      Gentry

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