Surprise filled his face. “I thought you would be happy.”

She waved off his words. “That’s not the point.” She jabbed her pen against the pad of paper in front of her as her agitation grew. “There’s something you’re not saying, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. Are you afraid I’ll collapse during trial or something ridiculous like that?” She didn’t give him time to respond. “I won’t, you know.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I do not think you will collapse in trial. Damn, woman, what does it take to please you?”

Lindsey grimaced, not liking the idea of being considered incompetent one bit. No, she didn’t want to go back to court, but she wanted to fail even less. “Look, after you dropped your little bomb on me, and then ran out the door unwilling to face me, I might add, I spent all afternoon getting myself prepared to face this damn case. So don’t go turning back the clock now.”

He laughed in disbelief. “First of all, I did not run off. I had a meeting.”

She smirked and crossed her arms in front of her body. “Uh-huh.”

“To be clear,” he said, his voice now more intense, his eyes direct as they held hers, “I trust your abilities in and out of the courtroom.” He let the words linger a moment. “Probably more than you trust yourself.”

“You have a terrible way of showing it.”

Mark opened the file that sat in front of him. He spread five pictures out on the table, and leaned back in his chair. Watching her. “What do these girls have in common?”

The dark reality of the images made her swallow hard. She’d seen plenty of crime scene photos, but these brought back memories she preferred to avoid. “They’re dead,” she said flatly, her eyes lifting to his. She’d seen enough.

“What else?” Mark shot back.

She swallowed, and forced herself to look down. “They all fit a profile, of course.”

“What profile, Lindsey?” he pressed.

“I’ve seen the file,” she said in a clipped tone, giving him a hard stare. “I know these are the women Williams is accused of killing.”

“They fit another profile too, though, don’t they?” He was challenging her. Waiting for her reaction.

She glanced up at him and then back down at the photos, her stomach churning with realization. Her response was a harsh whisper. “They fit the Hudson profile.” She dropped her pencil and ran her now-damp palms down her thighs.

His eyes narrowed. “We both know the other obvious factor.” It was a question, but not really. They both knew the answer.

He wanted her to admit it out loud, and she knew it. Why, she wasn’t sure. She stiffened, feeling the tension of the moment. And frustration, even a hint of anger. She didn’t want to deal with this, but he was making her. “You think I don’t know they all look like me?”

He leaned forward. “Then you understand why I am going to first chair.”

She snapped, heat filling her gaze. “Stop trying to protect me. I am perfectly capable of handling this damn case.”

* * * * *

Lindsey was, if nothing else, unpredictable.

Just this morning, she had all but refused to first chair the Williams case. She’d been ready to choke him when he had made his announcement. He’d seen it in her eyes. Who would have figured she would now be accusing him of being protective?

“You can scream, throw things, do what you will, but I am not—I repeat, I am not—letting you first chair.” His eyes dared her to argue. She wanted to, too. After a long, tension-filled moment, he asked, “How well have you read the file?”

The question took the wind out of her sails. The truth was, and they both knew it, she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to read it cover to cover. “I started to . . .” her voice trailed off.

“But you didn’t.” He let the words linger in the air. “I’ll first chair. You can ease back into the courtroom, and deal with the implications of the past with less pressure. It’s for the best.”

“Just this morning—”

He cut her off. “I hadn’t seen the pictures of those women.” He reached for the photos, ready to get them out of sight. The way they resembled Lindsey was downright scary. “Now, I have. Now you second chair.”

A knock sounded. Ms. Moore, her father’s assistant, peaked around the door. “Sandwiches are here,” she said in her normal, cheerful voice.

“Come on in Maggie,” Mark said, waving her forward as a boyish grin filled his face.

Mark had a soft spot for Maggie. She was like everyone’s grandmother—a sweet, older woman with a nurturing tendency. Near sixty, she needed to retire, but refused. She liked being busy. Even seemed undaunted by Edward’s constant harsh ways.

Maggie was smiling at Mark as she rushed into the room. “I have your favorite, Mark,” she said smiling. “And I remembered: no mayo, extra mustard.” Then she held up a bag of cookies. “And I got oatmeal raisin cookies. I know how you love them.”

“Thanks Maggie,” he said. “You are always so good to me.” She’d been one of the few bright spots at Paxton.

Maggie turned her attention on Lindsey. “I remembered what you liked, too. Egg salad on wheat.”

Lindsey blinked. “I’m impressed. It’s been years.”

Maggie patted Lindsey on the back and winked. “I had to have a good memory to handle all the things your father threw at me, honey. Besides, how could I forget my little Lindsey? Seems like yesterday you were a little one running around here with your Barbies.”

Lindsey laughed. “Yes, well that was a long time ago. I was always at your desk bugging you though, wasn’t I?”

Maggie buzzed around the table like a busybody, giving them each napkins. “Yes,” she sighed. “I miss those days. You both,” she waved a finger between Mark and Lindsey, “work far too hard, but I will shut up because neither of you will listen anyway.” She sighed with regret as Mark and Lindsey exchanged an amused glance. “You both have tea to drink. I’ll be leaving now, unless there is anything else either of you need?”

Mark chuckled. “I think we are fine now. Thanks again, Maggie. Have a nice evening.”

“Okay, don’t stay too late. See you both in the morning.” Maggie started towards the door, but turned back. “It’s nice to have you both back.”

Lindsey smiled. “Thanks Maggie,” she said, with a hint of emotion in her voice. “Goodnight.”

Maggie waved and left the room, humming as she pulled the door shut. Lindsey stared at Mark as he opened his mouth to bite into his sandwich. He stopped midway to his mouth and sat his sandwich down on the wrapper. “What?” he asked as a puzzled look settled on his face.

She motioned with her head towards the door. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked holding up his hands in question.

“Maggie?” she questioned in astonishment. “Daddy never called her Maggie.”

He grunted. “I’m not Edward. Never was, never will be.”

“You were quite nice to her,” she commented as she started opening the paper around her sandwich.

“And that surprises you?”

Guilt registered in her expression. “I’m sorry. That was bad of me. Your reputation says you like to win, not that you like to be mean while you do it.”

“I guess you have a lot left to learn about me,” he said, only half-kidding. Part of him was bothered that she would have thought him capable of being anything but nice to Maggie.

A few minutes passed as they busied themselves eating. Lindsey scribbled some notes as Mark thumbed through the file. “It really is amazing how she remembered what I always ordered so far back,” Lindsey commented.

He gave her a half-smile “That’s Maggie for you.”

“Yeah, I guess so. She is one of the few things about this place I missed.”

He rested his elbows on the table and watched her a long moment. “I bet there is more than you realize.”

She glanced at him. “I doubt it.” Changing the subject, she said, “We were talking about the Williams case. There has been no research whatsoever completed to date that I could see. Is that your take?”