style="font-size:15px;"> He stabbed his fork into his pancakes. Like Kat Hamilton, he thought. He’d met women on diets. Others who wanted to eat more healthfully. But Kat was different. She seemed to be in a battle with food. Or was it with herself? Why was that?
“Something happened that changed your mother’s life, changed her.” He’d bet his lucky boots on that.
Kat sat back, as if trying to distance herself from what he was saying. “Like what?”
He chewed for a moment. “That’s what I don’t know and I’m trying to find out.”
“I think you’re making too much out of this.”
He considered her for a moment. “And I think you’re just as curious as I am. Too bad we can’t ask her.”
“Oh, I see what you’re up to. You want me to ask my mother what she was doing in college besides studying?”
He leaned his elbows on the table as he bent toward her. “Why not? Supposedly those were years she should be able to remember, right?”
Kat shook her head, and he saw that he’d made her angry again. “You think she’s lying about not remembering the past twenty-two years?”
He shrugged and took another bite of his pancakes. “What do you think?”
“I think breakfast is over.” She started to rise, but he caught her hand with his free one.
“I’m being honest with you. How about being honest with me?”
“I didn’t take your camera and laptop,” she said, pulling loose of his touch.
“I believe you. Who did you tell about the photo after I showed it to you, though?”
Kat’s gray eyes widened for an instant. She slowly sat back down. “I’m not sure I even believe you lost anything.”
He put down his fork and pushed his plate away before wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Yes, you are, and I think you know who was behind stealing them and the photos.” His gaze captured hers. “So who did you call?” To his surprise, he saw the answer in her expression. “You called your mother.”
“You can’t think that my mother...”
“Would she call your father? Or would she call Russell Murdock?”
“This is ridiculous,” Kat snapped. “You can’t think that my father or Russell—”
“No,” he said, frowning down at his nearly empty plate. “Unless...” He looked up at her. “What if her phone or wherever she is staying is bugged?”
She gave him an angry look. “You’re just saying all this to scare me. Why would anyone bug the cabin where my mother’s staying?”
“Seriously? The first wife of the possible future president. Even if she wasn’t missing the past twenty-two years, there’s a story there. The other reporters are chasing the love triangle, but I think the real story started back in college.”
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