Surprise registered in his eyes. “You’re staying for six months, or he’s letting you go back to Washington?”

“He won’t help unless I stay.” Her tone was one of frustration. “Not at all how I want this to play out. But for now, I am stuck with this case, and will at least see it through.”

Steve leaned forward. “I don’t know Mark, but I know his reputation, and it’s a strong one.”

“Oh, he’s good at what he does. Too good for my dad to have lost him. I can only hope time will work in my favor and Mark will decide to stay.”

“And if he doesn’t?” he asked.

“I don’t know if my father will practice again. He certainly can’t run the firm. I will have to find someone to take over.”

“But not you.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not me.”

Ready to change the subject and concerned about time, she said, “I have to shower and be to court by ten. What do you have for me?”

Steve pulled a large folder out of a notebook sitting on the table. “Three girls in Vegas raped and killed. All three look . . .”

She shot him a reprimanding look. “I know,” she paused for a beat, “like me. We all know this. What else?”

He gave her a measuring gaze. “You need to just chill, Lindsey. I don’t like that these girls look like you. It would be too damn easy for you to become a target.” He paused as he looked her over closely. “Make sure you’re not being followed. Those girls were all grabbed from behind. Be aware of your surroundings.”

She grunted. “First Mark and now you. Stop. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I’m damn glad to hear Mark has some sense. This is serious stuff.”

She snapped. “Stop acting like I am some novice, and show me the file.”

Steve sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his wide chest. “What gives, Lindsey?”

Lindsey looked at her coffee cup, and then back at him. “Sorry, Steve. I guess I’m more on edge than I realized.”

He stared at her for several seconds, and then nodded. “I know you have a lot on you right now.”

“It’s no excuse for me snapping. I’m sorry.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s talk Vegas,” he offered, giving her an escape from the moment, which she appreciated because she knew it was his intent.

“You said there were no suspects, right?” Lindsey asked.

“No one. They came up dry. The girls went to the same school and hung out at the same bar.”

A chill raced up her spine. “Bar? So far I have confirmed at least two of the girls in the Williams case hung out at the same bar.”

“Could be a lead,” he said. “I included a lot of general information like drivers’ license pictures of victims, and contact info for the detectives on the case.”

Lindsey took the folder. “Did the detectives here locally follow up on the Vegas lead? If they searched the national database, they would have found this.”

“The grapevine is pretty tight-lipped, but the word is that yes, it was examined but ruled out.”

Lindsey frowned. Steve asked, “What?”

Lindsey sighed. “You know what I am thinking. The obvious.”

“There was no way to tie Williams to the cases, so someone pushed Vegas under the rug.” His tone was grim with the potential truth. He and Lindsey both knew those type of things happened if someone had a political agenda and needed a conviction.

Lindsey nodded and then asked, “What time do you have?”

He glanced at his watch. “Eight forty-five. You better hit it if you’re going to shower.”

Lindsey took a big swig of her coffee and dotted her mouth with her napkin. “Yeah, my first day back in court. I better dress the part.”

“I won’t ask why you are wearing wrinkled clothes.”

They both knew she was meticulous about her appearance. Not only that, the very fact she was rushing home to change confirmed any assumptions he might make.

“And I won’t explain.” Lindsey stood up and grabbed the folder and her briefcase. After giving Steve a quick kiss and promising to check in that night, she started for the door.

Steve reached out and grabbed her arm. He grabbed her hand. “Be careful,” he said looking at her with concern etched in his face.

She nodded and turned to walk away but suddenly had a thought that made her turn back. “Hudson, the last trial I didn’t handle, can you find out how conclusive the DNA evidence was?”

He eyed her. “I can. You think it was a plant?”

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s a long shot, but worth looking at.”

* * * * *

Lindsey started stripping the minute she walked into her apartment, leaving a trail of clothes leading to the shower. Late to court wasn’t an option. Twenty minutes later, dressed in a stylish black suit, her hair twisted into a neat bun, she walked out her front door, dialing her phone as she pulled it shut behind her.

The receptionist at Paxton answered in two rings. “I need Mark. This is Lindsey.”

“Oh, dear,” she said in a panicked voice. “Mark has been grumbling about you.”

“I imagine.” Lucky for her, court would make it impossible for him to yell at her.

Music came on the line, and then, “Damn it Lindsey, where are you?”

“Temper, temper,” she said. “I’m on my way to the courthouse now. I’ll meet you in front.”

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again I swear I . . .”

Lindsey interrupted. “You’ll what?”

“Just get your ass to the courthouse.” The line went dead.

She stared at the phone. “That went well.” She sighed and hit end.

Lindsey stepped out of the cab to find Mark pacing the steps of the courthouse. The minute he saw her, he stalked in her direction looking like a hard-nosed, perfectly-dressed attorney who happened to be breathtaking sexy, and so angry he looked like he could kill.

The instant he was within hearing range, he started his verbal lashing. “You could have made us late.” He tapped the face of his watch.

Her chin lifted defiantly. “But I didn’t.”

Mark grabbed her arm, not hard, but no less forceful, as he leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “Don’t pull a stunt like this again.”

Lindsey’s eyes lifted to his, a challenge in the direct stare she gave him. “Or what, Mark?”

He looked her squarely in the eye. “Or I won’t stay around to deal with it.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief. She didn’t think he would hold his presence over her head. “You know what?” she asked, her tone low, but packed with fury. “I want your help, but I won’t have it held over my head. If this is how it’s going to be, then forget it. I don’t want your help. Give me the file, and I will take over.”

His eyes were so dark brown they were almost black, and she could see a muscle in his jaw jump. She could almost hear him count to ten in his head. Then, as if the anger she had just seen in his eyes had never existed, an aloof coolness filled his face. His hand dropped from her arm. “This isn’t the time or place for this discussion. We’re due in court.”

For a moment, she actually had the crazed desire to tell him to go to hell, demand the case file, and march up the courtroom stairs by herself. A moment was it. After that, sanity took over. She didn’t want the case or the firm. “Fine,” she spat, because no other words came to mind. Not ones that wouldn’t greatly hurt her chances of keeping Mark at Paxton.

They eyed one another, a stand-off of sorts, and without another word, turned and walked, side by side, up the courthouse steps. A few minutes later, not a word spoken between them, they stepped into the courtroom. As they approached the defense table, Lindsey momentarily stopped walking. She could hardly believe who was representing the state.

Mark’s head jerked in her direction. “What?”

She swallowed, and started walking again. “Prosecutor change. Not a good one.”

Mark followed her lead. “Meaning what?”

She eyed him as they sat down. “Meaning Greg Harrison is not one of my favorite people.” In fact, he was one of her least favorites.