Free Deadly Aim by Patricia H. Rushford Page A

gaze to Brandon’s. “Why would he do that? Earlier in the pharmacy he acted like he was going to give himself up, but maybe that was a ruse to get me to let my guard down so his buddies could have a clear shot at me.”
    Brandon shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know, unless he forgot his gun wasn’t real.”
    “How could he not know?”
    “Got me. If he wasn’t so young, I might suspect that he wanted you to shoot him.”
    “Suicide by cop?” Angel knew of several situations in which people had forced a confrontation with an officer, hoping they would be killed.
    The waiter eyed her warily as he placed a bread basket on the table and refilled their water glasses. She was going to have to get used to those sidelong glances and wary looks. No matter where she went, people would wonder.
    When their waiter left, Angel lifted the warm linen cloth lining the basket and withdrew a rosemary herb roll. “I’m in real trouble here, aren’t I? Even if I was following police procedure, the press is going to fry me.”
    “Not necessarily. Most people are sympathetic with the police where known criminals are concerned. From what you’ve told me, the kid was a gang member.”
    Angel didn’t see it that way. There was little or nothing right about what she’d done. “Brandon, if...” She set her bread on the plate and glanced down at her folded napkin.
    “If?”
    “The union is supposed to provide a lawyer, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable with someone I don’t know. If I need legal advice...”
    Brandon reached for her hand. “I’ll be there for you. Count on it.”
    She smiled. “I’m sorry to spoil our dinner with this stuff.”
    “I wanted to hear about it.”
    “Thanks.” She drew in a deep breath. “You know what I really want?”
    “What’s that?”
    “I’d like to forget about Billy Dean Hartwell for now. Let’s have a nice dinner and talk about something totally unrelated.”
    “Good idea.” Brandon tore his roll in half and slathered butter on it before taking a bite. “When we’re finished eating I have a surprise for you.” A mischievous grin lifted the corners of his mouth and lit up his eyes.
    “Can you give me a hint?”
    “Nope.”
    The waiter brought their salads and refilled their water glasses again.
    “So what do you want to talk about?” Brandon asked.
    “You.”
    Brandon talked briefly about his work, not going into much detail. Being the junior partner in the law firm, he got many of the cases his father and older brother, Carl, passed on. The business had been started by Brandon’s great-grandfather. Unlike most law firms, which either specialized in criminal law or corporate law, they covered all types of cases. Brandon handled a lot of bankruptcies and divorces but hoped some day to move into criminal cases.
    “Have you heard about the Kelsey case?” Brandon asked.
    “Who hasn’t? Are you representing her?” Michelle Kelsey was the primary suspect in her husband’s disappearance.
    “Yeah.” His grin reminded Angel of a kid with a giant Snickers bar.
    “I hope you get her off, Brandon. Scum like Jim Kelsey deserve what they get. I don’t blame her for killing him.”
    “I’m not just going for an acquittal. Michelle says she didn’t do it, and I believe her.”
    “You can’t be serious.” Angel reached for her glass of iced tea. “There were witnesses at the restaurant who said they’d been arguing. And she’d bought a gun a week before he disappeared.”
    “All circumstantial evidence,” Brandon argued. “There’s no body, remember, and no way to prove he’s dead.”
    “Her gun had been fired recently.” Angel tore her roll in quarters and set them aside.
    “She says she’d used it for target practice.”
    “Right—and she used her husband as the target.” Angel reported what she’d heard about the case secondhand. Though she knew the Kelseys, she hadn’t been involved with the investigation.
    “She’s not a killer. She’s a