If she agreed to accept Polk’s help as her attorney, his brother’s hands were tied, too.
Brayden forced a neutral expression as he entered the room. The moment he saw the tears in Mila’s eyes though, he nearly lost it.
Ever since he’d represented his friend, who’d been wrongly convicted, and gotten him off, he’d earned a reputation for fighting for the underdog.
Mila Manchester might be fooling him. Those tears could be due to the fact that she was upset about getting caught.
Or they were out of fear.
He crossed the room and claimed the chair across from her. “I don’t think you wanted to perform plastic surgery on DiSanti, Dr. Manchester,” he said quietly. “But I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”
Emotions twisted her face, and she averted her gaze from his.
“If you’re being coerced, I’ll protect you.”
She looked down at her hands, then lifted her head and her gaze met his. Emotions warred in her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Hawk, but you can’t help me. Mr. Polk is my attorney.”
He studied her for a long minute, frustrated because he sensed she wanted his help, and that she needed it. But as Lucas said, their hands were tied.
He sighed, then stood. “All right. If you change your mind, let me know.”
She stared at the card he laid on the table, but didn’t pick it up. He waited another minute, hoping she’d change her mind, but she dropped her gaze to her hands again and remained silent.
Those hands had given DiSanti a new face so he could escape and continue spearheading the Shetland operation.
The man was despicable and needed to be put away.
If he was wrong about Dr. Manchester, she deserved to be prosecuted, as well.
Still, his gut churned as he left the room.
Frustration filled Brayden as he watched Lucas lock Mila Manchester in a holding cell.
He thought she was terrified and had been coerced. But what if her teary eyes and trembling hands were part of a well-orchestrated act?
Lessons learned in the past taunted him.
He’d been fooled once by a client’s lies. A pretty young woman who’d batted innocent-looking eyes at him and cried on his shoulder. A woman who’d used him to put her boyfriend away for a crime that she’d committed. He’d gotten her off, then realized that she was a manipulative user.
Thankfully, she’d tried her scam on another guy and been caught red-handed.
But he’d walked away feeling like a fool and had vowed never to fall for another pretty face again.
Still, the sight of the doctor’s forlorn expression as she sank onto that dingy narrow cot made his gut tighten.
He turned away and noticed the same frustration in Lucas’s scowl.
“Charlotte’s going to be angry,” Lucas said between gritted teeth.
Sympathy for Lucas swelled inside him. Charlotte had gone through hell because of the Shetland ring. She’d been injured, had lost her vision for some time and had been sick with worry about her students who’d been kidnapped. She had good reason to want DiSanti locked away.
The fact that she praised the doctor’s humanitarianism spoke volumes on Dr. Manchester’s behalf.
“What are you going to do?” he asked Lucas.
“Check out that lawyer,” Lucas said. “Maybe we can find something to charge him with and force Dr. Manchester’s hand.”
“I could talk to her coworkers,” Brayden offered.
Lucas shrugged. “You aren’t her lawyer, Brayden.”
Brayden walked beside Lucas until they reached the front door of the field office. “I know. But I might find out something to explain why Dr. Manchester performed surgery on that monster. It just doesn’t feel right.”
Lucas nodded. “I agree. I’ll get our analyst to pull up everything she can find on Polk as well as the doctor.”
“There has to be something DiSanti’s people used to force her to work for them,” Brayden said. “Maybe an indiscretion in the past.”
“Or maybe she met him when she was volunteering abroad,” Lucas suggested. “Seeing the vast needs and poverty in the underprivileged areas she visited may have driven her to accept money to fund her clinic.”
True. For Charlotte’s sake, he hoped not.
“You want me to drive Charlotte home?” Brayden asked.
Lucas shook his head. “I need to talk to her myself.”
He didn’t envy that conversation between his brother and Charlotte.
Meanwhile, he’d talk to Dexter. His PI skills could be helpful in finding information on the doctor’s clinic and her coworkers.
Talking to them might provide insight into what had driven Mila Manchester to break the law.
* * *
MILA DROPPED HER face into her hands, her body shaking with worry and fear. Where was Izzy now?
Was she safe? Was the nanny still with her? Or had the men taken Izzy somewhere else so the police couldn’t find her in case a neighbor reported a disturbance at the house?
She rose and paced the cell, her agitation mounting. The image of that man holding a gun to Roberta and Izzy taunted her. Izzy must be terrified.
She was only three. A tiny little pip-squeak of a girl with big dark eyes and an infectious laugh and an obsession with playing dress up. She loved dolls and pretending she was a princess with a tiara and poufy skirt.
But other times she liked to dig in the earth and play with worms and kick the soccer ball in the backyard.
Izzy had started a campaign to convince Santa to bring her a puppy for Christmas and had drawn pictures and cards of how she’d take care of the animal.
She liked strawberry ice cream with sprinkles and brownies and loved mac and cheese. She enjoyed making her own pizza and PB&J sandwiches. She snacked on carrots and cheese, and apples with peanut butter and wanted b-b’s, blueberries, for breakfast with her pancakes.
She hated tuna fish, turned her nose up at broccoli and stirred her green peas around on the plate to make it look like she’d eaten some when she hadn’t put a single pea in her mouth.
She was stubborn and loud and messy and got up way too early on the weekends, but Mila loved her with all her heart.
Another
