Same Place, Same Time. C.J. Carmichael

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СКАЧАТЬ back into the reception area and unlocked the top drawer of Brenda’s desk. Inside was a small metal box. She opened the lid and pulled out two twenties and a five. A few dollars’ worth of change remained on the bottom. “That’s odd.”

      “What is it?” Morgan had followed her. Now he held her gaze with his own, and she saw that tension had stretched his mouth thin.

      “Our keys.” Trista looked back at the box. “They’re missing.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      MORGAN LOOKED OVER Trista’s shoulder into the metal box. “Are you sure your secretary kept the key here?”

      “Of course I am.”

      “Does anyone else have access to it?” Morgan asked, undaunted.

      “This is a small practice. There’s only Brenda and me.”

      “Well, what about when Brenda goes for lunch or to the washroom—does she lock the drawer?”

      Trista felt her patience snap. “We keep a fifty-dollar petty-cash supply in there, Morgan. Hardly a fortune.”

      He ignored her flare-up. “So any one of your clients might have had the opportunity to take that key?”

      Trista bristled further at his assumption. “Why does it have to be one of my clients? Perhaps it was a deliveryperson, or a courier. Why, even the young man who comes in every week to water our plants could have found that key as easily as any of my clients.”

      “That’s a good point. Why don’t you make a list of all the deliverypeople, etcetera, that you’ve had through the office in the past few weeks?”

      Trista sighed. She was sorry now that she’d ever mentioned anything about the noises she thought she’d heard. “Isn’t this a lot of fuss for a simple office break-in? Especially when nothing has been stolen?”

      “You know darn well I wouldn’t go to these lengths for a simple break and enter.” Morgan’s eyes flashed dangerously.

      Trista was silent for a moment before asking, “You really think someone was after the Walkers’ file? That there’s a connection with the murder?”

      “I do.”

      His blunt answer shook her as much as anything else had that night. She didn’t need these problems in her life.

      “Well, I don’t.”

      “Really? You don’t find it suspicious that someone has been nosing around in your files just one day after your client was murdered?”

      “Ever heard of coincidences?”

      “Heard of them, but I don’t believe in them. And if you thought about it, I think you’d agree with me. You’re just so anxious to get me out of your office you can’t think straight.”

      Trista looked away. Yes, he was right. She did want to get him out of her office. Their past was an emotional minefield capable of blowing them both to bits. “This is doing neither of us any good.”

      “I agree. But unfortunately, I have a job to do. Now, would you please check your office and make sure the Walker file is still there.”

      Biting back a sarcastic comment on the virtual immobility of a manila folder, Trista left the reception area and went back to her office, scooping the slender file with the Walker label from the out basket on her desk. While she was at it, she slipped the cassettes from the Walkers’ two most recent sessions into the file. When she returned, she saw Morgan’s attention focus on the file and realized that he was interested in more than making sure the file was here. He held out his hand expectantly, but she ignored it.

      “This is confidential information, Morgan. You know that.”

      “Goddammit, Trista! This isn’t some stupid university-ethics course.”

      Trista’s memory provided her with an instant flashback. It was early spring, just about this time of year. They were in university and Morgan was sitting against the trunk of a large maple tree, quizzing her on professional-ethics scenarios from one of her psychology courses. The air had smelt rich and sweet with the spring’s new growth and Morgan’s smile had made it very hard to concentrate on finals, even though they’d only been days away.

      As quickly as the memory came, it was gone, leaving her with a dull aching sensation of sadness and loss. They’d been such kids back then, with no idea of the trials ahead of them.

      “This is a murderer we’re dealing with, Trista. And that murderer could have been the person who was in your office tonight. Doesn’t that worry you?”

      Trista swallowed. She hadn’t thought of it quite that way. “That doesn’t excuse me from releasing confidential information. Especially when you have no evidence that the information in these files could be useful.”

      “Who says I don’t? You know as well as I do that’s an issue for the courts to decide. Anyway, Jerry Walker is dead. What does his confidentiality mean to him now?”

      “He may be dead, but his wife isn’t.” Trista spoke defiantly, but she recognized the determined look in Morgan’s eyes. If he wanted to be stubborn about this, she knew he could apply to the courts for access to her files. Whether it would be permitted or not was another question. If possible, the whole situation was one she’d rather avoid.

      “Look, I’ll go over the file tonight. If I see anything that might be pertinent, and if it’s something that can be revealed without compromising my clients, I’ll tell you.” She offered the concession, hoping Morgan would be satisfied.

      But he just shook his head. “I don’t mean to question your intelligence, but what makes you think you’re in a position to judge what might or might not be pertinent to this case? Come on, Trista. If you won’t let me take the file, at least let me look through it here. You can watch, if you like.”

      “You know I can’t do that! Why are you being so stubborn? I’m trying to cooperate. If you insist, I’ll review the file right now.”

      Morgan looked at her bleakly. He knew she was acting in accordance with her legal responsibilities. Which put him in a pretty weak bargaining position. “Oh, damn it to hell, Trista. I guess if that’s the way you want to play it…”

      “It is.”

      “Okay then. But we’ll do it tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest.”

      The understanding in his words was not reflected in his expression, which was full of the anger and bitterness she’d seen when he first walked in the door. As for leaving this for tomorrow—Trista knew it was wise, but the idea of unfinished business, of having to face him again…

      “I’d rather get it over with tonight.”

      “No. It’s too late.” Morgan turned from her. She could see the stiff set of his shoulders, feel the anger radiating from him.

      She bit down on her lower lip. This was as hard on him as it was on her. She shouldn’t forget that part of it. After gathering her briefcase and jacket, she walked over to the master СКАЧАТЬ