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Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

Mia was shaking her head before Sherlock finished. “He’d demand to know exactly what you’re talking about, he’d take the high road, demand you tell him exactly what I believe he did. And what would you lay out for him exactly? You’d have to admit there isn’t any proof, not yet. He’d laugh at you, at me, and threaten to sue us both and the Guardian if these ridiculous accusations came out.

“I can’t see Alex Harrington folding his tent. He’d play the aggrieved party, the victim of an ambitious reporter willing to do anything to get herself publicity, willing to trash an innocent man’s name, ruin his life.

“Sherlock, nothing good could come out of facing him down. I’d instantly be persona non grata, worthless in helping find the proof to put him and Kent away.”

Mia saw Sherlock was about to disagree, and she added quickly, “Don’t forget Juliet. If you faced him down, told him what we know he did, wouldn’t it put her in danger? He’d have to suspect she told me what happened.” Mia sat forward, grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “You’ve got to agree to let me continue to investigate. I could pretend I think it was an accident last night, a drunk driver or some idiot on drugs.”

Sherlock eyed her, drank the rest of her coffee. “That was very persuasive, Mia, and all right, logical. I’ll even say this for you—without more proof he’d try to get you blackballed. He’d certainly hound you, smear your name.” She sighed. “What you really want is to be bait, right?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, drummed her fingertips on the table, studied Mia Briscoe’s very serious face. “All right. We’ll see what Tommy has to say.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t act guileless, Mia, you can’t pull it off. I’ll be your bodyguard until Tommy ties up his case in Washington—he hopes to be here tomorrow. Then he can be your second skin.”

Mia would have shot a victory fist in the air, but she wasn’t a dolt. She said, “As you’ve noticed, my apartment is on the small side. Do you mind sharing a queen-size bed with me?”

Sherlock smiled. “Not a problem.” Then she took a deep breath, drummed her fingertips on the table, studied Mia Briscoe’s face. “You know after what could have happened to you last night, I hope Juliet will be willing to step up, show what kind of woman she is. I have an idea how she can help us and we can still keep her safe. Would you call her, then let me speak to her?”

When Sherlock ended the call, she slowly nodded. “We’ll see.”

36

Mia and Sherlock

Cheesehead Coffee Shop

Houston Street

Thursday morning