The Trophy Hunter (5 page)

Tamara nodded, her young face reflecting
concern.

The words backed up in Diana’s throat, but
she pushed them forward. “Could you … call a charity for a pickup
at my home? I have some furniture … I thought maybe a needy family
… could … could …. ” Diana felt tears coming.

“Of course. I’ll take care of it.” Tamara
gave her arm a little squeeze; then hurried out the door. Diana
knew she didn’t have to tell her that it was the nursery
furniture.

At her desk, Diana sorted through phone
messages, placed to one side the three from her mom. Greg had
called. So had a family law attorney they both knew. Hmmm. Could be
that Greg had retained him for the divorce? Two clients had called
regarding the progress on their respective cases. Diana was glad
she had some answers for both of them. Getting up-to-speed. Slowly,
but getting there.

She paused as the name of the next caller
prickled her brain. Darren Rogart. Why would Joe Flannigan’s
son-in-law call her before a custody suit had even been filed? How
did he know Flannigan had retained her?

The apparent answer set her temples pulsing.
Sometimes Jess could really be a pain in the ass. In this frame of
mind, Diana picked up the phone, punched in her mother’s number and
braced herself for the bullet.

“Hello.” Neutral tone. Her parents didn’t
have caller ID.

“Mom?” said Diana in the tentative voice she
hated. The one that always came out then she talked with her
mother.

“Thank goodness. We’ve been worried sick. Why
haven’t you returned my calls?”

This bullet was going to taste like shit.
“Mom, I … ”

“Why is your voicemail message changed? Both
your home and your office messages are different.”

Greg’s name had been deleted. Where would she
start? With the Greg thing or … or ….

“Has something happened to Greg?” Panic
cranked her mother’s voice up a notch.

Diana ground her teeth, her anger so hot that
she no longer felt any physical pain. “Yes, Mother. Something
happened to Greg.” She could hear a little hiss of breath on the
other end of the line. “I caught my secretary giving him a blow
job, so I kicked his ass out.” There. That should either shut her
up or give her a coronary.

“Well … that’s not exactly … ”

“If you tell me that’s not having sex─not the
same as fucking her, I’ll hang up.”

“Diana, you know how I feel about strong
language.”

“I guess it depends on who’s using it,
Mother.
”

Several little hisses this time. Then, “But
the baby. They say what babies hear from the womb─”

“Mother, stop it. I lost the baby.”

Silence. Then, “What?”

“You’re not hard of hearing. And you’re not
going to make me repeat it.” Tears flowed hotly down her cheeks.
The feeling of having screwed up again in her mother’s eyes weighed
on her heart. So much for dignity and self-assurance.

“No baby?” A long-suffering sigh from her
mother’s end of the conversation. Diana was not about to answer.
She was not going to say it again. Her worth on this earth had just
evaporated.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” The whine of
the self-righteous. “Now I can’t get a refund on the plane ticket.”
She’d insisted on coming out for the baby’s birth.

Mother, I had surgery. You could come out
and take care of me.
The need for nurture had crept in,
unbidden. She could even have used a few words of pity─not to
wallow in─just some comfort.

“Diana,” her mother’s voice took on an
accusatory tone, “you didn’t
do
something to lose the
baby?”

Do something?
What kind of mind would
ask a question like that? What kind of mother?

Diana hung up. Let her think whatever it was
her sick brain conjured up.

Through the ringing in her ears, another
sound surfaced: the door to her office suite opening and closing.
She was sure she’d locked it after Tamara left. Then, a soft knock
before her office door opened.

Diana looked up through her tears at the man
who stood in the doorway.
Handsome
seemed a trivial
adjective. He wore an open leather jacket over a black western
shirt. Her eyes dried as they met his─startling gray-hazel in a tan
face. A massive turquoise belt buckle topped tight jeans, pulling
her eyes to a place below that made the color rise in her cheeks.
She willed her eyes back up toward his face.

Before she could stammer a word, he said, “I
called earlier. I’m Darren Rogart.”

Chapter 7

“Calling first doesn’t give you the right to
barge into my office.” Anger mounted in Diana, fresh from the phone
conversation with her mother, augmented by the audacity of the
man.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes left hers and
traveled around the room, much as Joe Flannigan’s had on his first
visit, taking in the wildlife art on the walls. “When I didn’t hear
back from you, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You should have waited, Mr. Rogart. My
return call would have informed you that this meeting … this
conversation is not appropriate.”

He ignored her words as he proceeded into the
room and took a seat across from her. Diana noticed that his dark
hair had a generous sprinkling of silver─premature, from the look
of his face.

“Are you listening to me, Mr. Rogart? You
must leave immediately.” Diana aimed for her ball-busting bitch
voice, but what really came out diluted her message.

Rogart looked down, shook his head slightly,
and she saw a faint, lopsided smile tweak his lips. “When you’re
desperate, you do whatever it takes.” Looking back at her with that
same intense glance that she was starting to find disconcerting, he
continued, “My children are in danger, and no one is listening to
me. I hoped you’d be different.”

“I represent your father-in-law. You’re aware
of that. I can’t talk to you. You need to get your own
attorney.”

He sighed deeply. Diana watched his shoulders
sag; then square up as he arose from the chair. “You’re right,” he
said. “I apologize.”

As he retraced his steps, Diana got up and
followed him. He turned back toward her and appeared on the verge
of saying something. Then his glance fixed on the eagle painting by
the door. “I think I know how they feel.” His voice was a husky
whisper.

“What do you mean?” she couldn’t resist
asking.

“So close to extinction.” The wispy smile
made his face appear sadder.

“They’re protected,” countered Diana.

As they proceeded into the dimly lit
reception area, she heard a sound escape his lips. Then he turned
back toward her, sober-faced, and said, “There are some things laws
can’t protect against.”

She remembered Jess’s revelation: this man
was a poacher who had done time. “You should know,” she replied
recklessly.

The look that crossed his face made her
regret the words, especially in such a vulnerable setting─after
hours, empty building.

But when he spoke, there was no anger in his
voice. It was as if he didn’t connect her words with his past. “My
wife was molested as a child. The law couldn’t protect her. Now the
same man has my daughter. Somebody’s gotta do something.”

“Mr. Rogart─”

“I know. We can’t have this conversation.
Just give it some thought … Diana … before you write me off as some
nutcase.” He paused in the doorway; then looked back at the eagle
painting and shook his head.

Before she could comment, he was out the
door. Out of sight. She heard his boots clicking a measured beat
down the hallway.

Diana.
In her head she heard his voice
speaking her name, stirring something she didn’t want stirred.
Diana.

She slammed the door, threw the deadbolt in
place, and then walked back to her desk. As she passed the eagle
painting, Diana saw Rogart’s eyes in its face.

Chapter 8

After several unproductive minutes, Diana
conceded that she couldn’t concentrate on the Flannigan/Rogart file
in her office. She’d had it for the night and called a cab. She
tucked the file into her briefcase; then exited the office,
thinking maybe she’d have better luck at home. At that moment,
everything in her life seemed out-of-focus.

As she left the building, Diana saw that the
snow had intensified. She was glad when the cab appeared after only
minutes. The ride home was of relatively short duration in spite of
the weather. Something ominous seemed to follow her as she paid the
cab driver; then hurried up the walk to her door as new snowflakes
piled upon the earlier accumulation.

Once inside her house, Diana immediately
locked the door behind her. Lights that she’d put on a timer were
already glowing in the foyer and living room. Diana paused in the
dining room, flicked on the wall switch that lit up a crystal
chandelier; then dumped the contents of her briefcase─the
Flannigan/Rogart file─on the dining table. Her gesture had all the
ceremony of dumping the garbage. Bad attitude, Diana, she could
almost hear her mother’s comment.

Piss on her.
Diana kicked out of her
taupe suede boots and walked into the kitchen, flipping the switch
for the island light. Her glance crossed the stainless steel
refrigerator, but her late lunch with Jess still sat heavily inside
her.

From the adjacent laundry room, a faint sound
drew her attention. The cat door flapping shut? “Tigger?” She heard
a thump as the cat’s feet hit the wood laminate floor. Tigger was
no lightweight. “There you are,” she said as the yellow tabby
strolled in and proudly dumped a dead starling at her feet. He then
rubbed against her leg in a bid for praise or a handout.

“You really didn’t have to wait dinner on my
account.” Diana picked up the bird. It was cold to the touch and
stiff. “Couldn’t you at least have warmed it up?” Diana shuddered
as she deposited it in a plastic bag. It would smell if she put it
in the trash canister. Their usual routine was to exchange the bird
for a saucer of milk; then Diana would take her “gift” outside to
the big Dumpster.

She wavered by the back door. Something in
the night, apart from the snow, made her shiver. Then she turned
and placed the bird in the kitchen trash, making mental note to
take it out in the morning. In the emotional chill of her empty
house, Diana doled out Tigger’s milk and cat goodies and stroked
his thick fur, brushing off a dusting of snow from his coat.

The need to hear another human voice filled
her. She punched in Jess’s cell number on the kitchen phone.

Jess answered on the second ring. “Edwards
and Associates.”

That answer mode always amused Diana, since
Jess operated her business solo. She gave her stock response:
“Edwards is a flake. Give me one of the associates.”

“I see you got home okay,” said Jess. “Have
you had a chance to look at the file?”

“I intended to, but I was interrupted.”

Silence. Then, “Oh?”

“Jessie, you’ve got one hell of a nerve
sending that man to my office.”

“What man?”

“
What man?”
she mimicked. “You know
what man. How else would Darren Rogart even know I was involved in
the case?”

“So, what do you think of him?”

“I’ll reserve judgment for now. He did bring
up something that had crossed my mind. Even before you brought it
up at lunch.”

“Spit it out already.”

Diana put the phone on
speaker
, got a
mug from the mug tree and set herself up a cup of tea. She placed
it in the microwave and hit the
minute
button.

“Diana?”

“Does Flannigan have
any
kind of
record?”

“A couple of DUIs,” replied Jess. “A speeding
ticket and a breach of contract civil suit. He was the plaintiff on
the civil suit.”

“No domestic violence or child abuse?” asked
Diana, frowning as she removed the mug of tea from the
microwave.

“Nothing in that category. And the DUIs are
ten years old─before he joined AA,” replied Jess.

“So, you did a comprehensive background check
on both Flannigan and Rogart?”

“You apparently haven’t even looked at the
material I gave you.” Annoyance crept into Jess’s voice.

“What did I just say? Hello.” Diana set the
steaming mug of tea on the granite-topped island. “I was about to
when Rogart just walked in.” Diana thought again about the locked
office door. Or had Tamara forgotten to throw the lock before she
left?

“He does tend to do in one’s powers of
concentration.” Jess’s voice had a little lilt in it again, pissing
Diana off immensely─disproporionately, in fact.

A growl escaped Diana’s lips─not unlike the
voice of Tigger.

“Animal attraction?” asked Jess.

“Damn it, Jessie─”

“Aw, you talked to your mom, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“Darren couldn’t do that much damage. Want a
ride in the morning? You can dump it all on me then.”

“I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. I’m
supposed to be cleared to drive, so I thought I’d drive to the
appointment.”

“Brilliant,” said Jess. Diana could imagine
her rolling her eyes.

“Probably not,” mumbled Diana through a gulp
of warm tea.

“Hey, I gotta go.” Jess’s voice tensed up,
volume decreased to a whisper.

Diana recognized her surveillance tone. “Be
careful, Jessie.”

“I always am.”
Click.
She was
gone.

The blue and white kitchen was suddenly cold
and unwelcoming. Diana shuddered as she absently patted Tigger;
then thought of the files that lay on the dining table.

Fatigue washed over her as she walked past
her “homework.” Instead of picking up the file, she climbed the
stairs. Warm shower─that should help. Then, bed … sleep … attack
the beast in the morning, with a fresh mind.