Free Deadly Aim by Patricia H. Rushford Page B

victim.” Brandon’s hand pressed into a fist.
    “Brandon, I’m on her side. I’ve seen her bruises more times than I care to remember. I must’ve been called out totheir place at least three times since I’ve been here, and she never pressed charges.”
    “She wanted out, and he wouldn’t let her go.”
    Angel nodded. “Which makes for a good motive. Michelle felt trapped and did the only thing she could to get out of it. Kelsey was the worst kind of abuser. He brainwashed her into believing he had a right to slap her around whenever he felt like it.”
    Brandon frowned. “Yeah. The guy was a piece of work, but she didn’t kill him.”
    “The evidence says otherwise.” Angel leaned back while the waiter took her salad plate and replaced it with the main course.
    “The evidence doesn’t prove a thing,” Brandon insisted.
    Angel sighed and waited for the waiter to leave, then leaned forward and met his intense gaze. “Has anyone ever told you that you’d make a great lawyer?”
    He laughed. “I’m sorry. I feel strongly about this one.”
    “You know what?” Angel straightened. “I hope I’m wrong. Go for it. This will be a high-profile case for you. Congratulations. How did you end up with it, anyway? This is the kind of thing your father would take or at least hand off to Carl.”
    “Actually, Michelle—uh, Mrs. Kelsey was already my client. She’d come to me wanting to start divorce proceedings. So when her husband disappeared and she realized the police suspected her of killing him, she wanted to retain me as her lawyer.”
    “Divorce? She came to you? No offense, but... you guys aren’t exactly cheap. I doubt her husband would have put out money for it.”
    “You’ve got that right,” Brandon snorted. “And she has money. She’s been secretly putting it away for a few years now in her own account, for an emergency. She also came into some money through an inheritance—an aunt or something. She managed to keep it from her husband.”
    “So Michelle was planning to get a divorce? Too bad Jim’s not around. I’d have liked to see the guy squirm.” She scooped up some garlic mashed potatoes on her fork. “On the other hand, maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t. He might’ve ended up killing her.”
    She closed her eyes and let the warm potatoes linger on her tongue, enjoying the blend of butter, cream, and garlic. Maxwell’s made the best garlic mashed potatoes on the coast—except for her mother’s, of course.
    They ate in silence for a while, and Angel savored every bite. Sometimes she wished she could cook, but that talent hadn’t been passed down from mother to daughter. Not that Ma hadn’t tried to teach her. Angel hadn’t wanted to learn any more about homemaking skills than she had to. She’d gotten by so far, but she cringed at the thought of being married and having to come up with meals on a daily basis. Brandon was accustomed to eating well. The family had a housekeeper and cook, and he still lived at home—something she couldn’t understand. Of course, she might not have minded either, if her parents had the Lafferty house, with its six thousand square feet of living space, plus a full-time maid, gardener, and chef. What would Brandon expect in a wife? Would he want them to live in his parents’ home? Could he afford domestic help? He’d have to if he married Angel.
    She brushed the pesky thoughts aside. She had no intention of getting married to Brandon or anyone else for a very long time. Her life was too unsettled—and after today, even more so.
    Angel concentrated on the food. The salmon was as delicious as it was beautiful. Grilled to melt-in-your-mouth perfection, then topped with a light blackberry sauce. The vegetables—beans, asparagus, broccoli, and carrots—had been grilled and served in a citrus marinade.
    “How’s your family?” Brandon asked. “This dinner reminds me of something your mother would cook up. Her baked salmon is the