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while she’d used his first name. Oh, the slings and arrows, Axel mused.
    She gave Karl one of those smiles and said, “Would you excuse us? I’d like to discuss a few details with Axel.”
    There was nothing Karl could do except say, “Of course,” and take himself away.
    Axel sipped his drink—sparkling water on the rocks because when you were wading in a pool of sharks, you needed all your wits about you—and waited for her to steer the conversation in the direction shewanted, though he did paste a faintly questioning expression on his face.
    â€œI heard something disturbing,” she said, pitching her voice low so only he could hear her.
    He gave a slight lift of his eyebrows that invited her to continue.
    â€œI heard Morgan was killed.”
    â€œNot so,” he promptly replied.
    Relief flickered in her eyes. “Thank God. But—was he hurt? My source was very specific about the victim’s name.”
    He’d like to know exactly who her source was, but he didn’t waste time trying to dig that info out of her. She was a seasoned veteran of the dance.
    â€œHe was shot—and I won’t lie, it was serious. But I have him in a protected location while he recovers.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œAssassination attempt. The problem is he can’t tell me why.”
    â€œHe doesn’t know ?”
    Axel rocked his hand back and forth. “He thinks he does. He suffered a serious concussion and he’s having a few memory problems, but he says he knows what’s going on if he can just remember it. There isn’t any permanent brain damage, and the doc says that he’ll remember when all the swelling is gone.”
    â€œFor goodness’ sake! When will that be?”
    â€œNo definite date, everyone heals differently. He has pneumonia now and that’s a setback, but the docs say he’s already getting better. I’m thinking a few months, most likely, before he’s back to normal.”
    â€œThat must be difficult, being grounded until then. I don’t know him as well as you do, but I suspect he isn’t a good patient.”
    â€œUnderstatement,” Axel said.
    â€œI’m so glad he’ll be all right. We’d all be devastated if anything happened to him. Give him our best when you see him.”
    â€œI will,” he replied, holding back the information that he wouldn’t be seeing Morgan at all until and if his trap was sprung. He’d spread these seeds of information in several venues around town; now he had to waitand see if any of them sprouted. Morgan had been targeted for a reason; that reason had to be rooted in something he’d seen or done that day. Maybe the threat he was looking for was several layers deep, not Congresswoman Kingsley herself, or Brawley, or even Kodak, but someone who knew them. He wouldn’t know until someone acted.

CHAPTER 3     
    C HIEF OF POLICE ISABEAU MARAN LOOKED UP FROM AN annoying pile of paperwork as the door to the police station opened, letting in a brisk dose of early spring air. Her golden retriever, Tricks, was snoozing on a comfy fleece bed on the floor beside the desk, but at the disturbance the dog opened her eyes and lifted her beautifully shaped golden head. She didn’t thump her tail in welcome because this was Tricks, and she didn’t know who was coming through the door; therefore, she wouldn’t waste the effort until she knew whether or not the new arrival was worthy of a welcome.
    Bright sunshine glared on the worn tile and Bo narrowed her eyes against it as Daina Conner carefully stepped inside. The intruder’s identity established, Tricks gave her tail two thumps, which signaled a moderate degree of pleasure but not enough to bring her to her feet, then lowered her head back onto her paws to resume her nap.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Not that Bo wasn’t glad to see Daina, because there weren’t