Found: One Secret Baby. Nancy Holland

froze Rosalie’s breath in her chest.

      “What is your interest in the late Ms. Mendelev?” she managed in a neutral tone once her heart began to beat again.

      He made a dismissive gesture with one aristocratic hand. “I’m not interested in her.”

      Anger closed Rosalie’s throat, but she forced her lips to keep a smile of polite interest.

      “I’m interested in the child she may have left behind.”

      The world spun away, then fell back into place on a less stable axis.

      Rosalie fought to keep her eyes fixed on Mr. Danby’s face without even a glance at the small photo stuck to the edge of her computer monitor.

      “Wouldn’t it make more sense to talk to the man who would be this supposed child’s father?” Her voice sounded almost normal, but the rest of her body echoed with shock. “I understand he can be reached at San Quentin for the next thirty years or so.”

      “I’ve talked to him, but he insists he never got Ms. Mendelev pregnant.”

      It was hard to believe the man who murdered her friend would say the right thing for the right reason.

      “Doesn’t that settle the matter?”

      Mr. Danby shook his head. “I suspect he’s worried that if he admits he fathered a child, money will be taken out of his trust fund to support it.”

      That sounded more like her friend’s killer.

      “Why don’t you contact Child Welfare Services?” Contempt colored her voice. “They would be responsible for a child with a deceased mother and an incarcerated father.”

      “It’s unclear which county would be responsible for the child, given the Mendelev woman’s wanderings in the last months before she died.”

      The Mendelev woman. How could he talk about Márya like that?

      Rosalie stood up. “I don’t think I can help you, Mr. Danby. I’m sure there are many other lawyers in Los Angeles who could find the information you want.”

      He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “You’re the only lawyer who was a witness at the hearing on Ms. Mendelev’s order of protection against her alleged abuser.”

      Rosalie closed her eyes against the mounting panic. Too much was at stake to let this man bait her into losing control. She put her hands on the desk and leaned into his personal space. The musky scent of his body distracted her for half an instant before she pushed it out of her mind.

      “That ‘alleged’ abuser is the man who murdered her.”

      Something dangerous lit in Morgan Danby’s dark blue eyes. Staying so close pushed Rosalie’s courage to the limit. His gaze dropped to her breasts, now at his eye level. Her mind cringed, but she didn’t move.

      “He’s also my brother,” Danby said.

      A burst of pure panic made her blink. The monster’s family had finally shown up.

      Morgan shifted in his chair. Claiming Charleston Thompson as a brother always made him feel as if he’d stepped in something vile.

      The anger radiating from the woman who loomed over him didn’t help. He might have found her attractive under other circumstances. Brains always impressed him, although his tastes ran to tall, slender blondes, not chest-high brunettes with more attitude than charm.

      He distracted himself from that inappropriate train of thought by glancing around the sleek, efficient office, straight out of a mid-range office-furnishings catalog.

      Ms. Walker looked efficient too, but not quite as sleek. Wisps had escaped from the smooth cap of her hair to curl around her face, and a mysterious small white spot marred the shoulder of her suit jacket.

      When she sank back into her chair, he could breathe more easily, but the flowery scent of her perfume lingered and kept his adrenalin, or some other stimulating hormone, at full force.

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

      She was a cool one. Her face and body were frozen in the professionally appropriate attitude of polite attention. Only her fisted hands hinted at the anger he sensed boiling underneath the frosty façade, and she quickly dropped those to her lap, out of his sight.

      An ice princess to match Lillian’s ice queen. He wished he’d let his stepmother fight this battle for herself.

      But he’d promised Lillian he would find her grandchild before Charlie’s father did, and no small-time lady lawyer was about to freeze him out.

      “Sorry my brother is a murderer, or sorry he’s my brother?”

      “Take your pick. You know him better than I do.”

      “You don’t know him at all. But that didn’t stop you from testifying against him.”

      “I didn’t testify against him. I testified in support of Márya’s—Ms. Mendelev’s—petition for a court order to protect her from him.”

      Márya. That explained the brief flash of fire in those green eyes when he called the dead woman “Maria.” But that was what Charlie called her. Why wouldn’t he know how to pronounce the woman’s name? Given Charlie, he probably called her whatever he damned well pleased.“How long had you known her when you testified?” he asked

      “About four months.”

      “That isn’t very long to determine the dynamics of a violent relationship.” The words left a nasty taste in his mouth, but he needed to break through Ms. Walker’s icy façade.

      “I determined that as soon as I saw her broken arm. The yellowed bruises from the last time he’d beaten her pretty much backed up that conclusion.”

      Morgan swallowed a bolt of anger at Charlie’s brutality. “So you took it upon yourself to intervene.”

      “She begged me to help her.”

      The woman paused, but her face yielded no clue to what might be going on inside her head. She’d be murder to face in a courtroom, a talent clearly wasted in this one-step-up-from-a-storefront family law practice.

      “And she was pregnant.”

      He allowed himself a thin smile. “So the investigator was right. There is a child.”

      Ms. Walker lowered her eyes to the desk and shook her head. “She was three months’ pregnant and bleeding heavily.”

      Damn. How could he tell Lillian that Charlie had managed to kill his own kid?

      Morgan took out his smartphone and opened a file. “What hospital did you take her to?”

      Ms. Walker was still staring at the desk. “Merced County General.” She spoke slowly, as if she needed to make an effort to remember, but that was ridiculous. All this had happened less than two years ago. Had her encounter with Charlie’s lady friend really been that traumatic?

      “Why there?”

      Laser-green eyes snapped back to his, brown specks turned to gold. “I found Márya hiding in a campground at Yosemite, which is in Merced County. Since your brother forced her to quit school and her job when he invaded her life, she didn’t have medical insurance.”

      “But she filed for the order of protection in Los Angeles County.”

      The tiniest shift in the woman’s ramrod posture. What didn’t she want him to know?

      “It’s easier to hide in L.A.,” she said.

      Rosalie hated to be reminded of those last months of Márya’s life. Her friend had lived in constant fear that Charlie would find her. She’d moved every week from one homeless shelter to another. If only she’d accepted Rosalie’s offer of a place to live until they got Márya’s visa straightened out so she could get a job.