Free Look Again by Lisa Scottoline Page A

inside. It held manila folders packed tight, and she took out a batch at the front, allowing them to move freely. Each file had a white label with the client's name, last name first. Ellen started at the beginning, and predictably, most of them were couples: Galletta, Bill and Kalpanna; Gardner, David, and Melissa McKane; Gentry, Robert and Xinwei; and Gibbs, Michael, and Penny Carbone. Her heart was pounding by the time she got to Gilbert, Dylan and Angela, but the next file wasn't Gleeson, Ellen. It was Goel, John, and Lucy Redd.
    She thumbed past Gold, Howard and Mojdeh; and Gold, Steven and Calina, and even onto Goldberger, Darja. No Gleeson. Not even misfiled. She skipped ahead to Golden, Golen, Gorman, then to Grant and Green. Still no Gleeson. Puzzled, she looked up at the pile of boxes, then eyed the ones she'd left lying around the floor. There had been other G boxes, and Gleeson could be misfiled anywhere. She took a deep breath and got busy. She was finished two hours later, but still hadn't found her file.
    What gives?
    She was putting the Rubik's Cube back together when she heard the loud rumbling of a car engine, and the garage door slid up noisily, leaving her in the blinding glare of the high beams from an SUV. The driver stepped out, walked toward her, and introduced himself as Rick Musko.
    "You're still here?" he asked, stepping into the fluorescent lights. He was tall and bald, in his fifties, older than Karen.
    "Sorry, but I can't find my file. I'm almost finished putting all the boxes back."
    "Wait a minute." Musko blinked. "I know you. Aren't you the reporter who did the story on the baby you adopted?"
    "Yes, right." Ellen introduced herself again.
    "Your name didn't register, when we spoke. I was in the middle of something." Musko extended his hand, and they shook. "I was pretty rude to you, I wish I had known who you were. That story you wrote made Karen so happy."
    "She was a great lawyer. I'm so sorry about your loss."
    "Thank you."
    "Do you know where my file could be?" Ellen picked up a box and heaved it on top of another. "Could it be with the lawyer who bought her practice? I figured I'd call him tomorrow morning."
    "No, he won't have it." Musko picked up a box. "He went through all of Karen's files with a fine-tooth comb and took only her active files, mostly divorces and custody fights. Said he didn't have the space for the dead files. That, I believe." Musko straightened the tower of boxes and gave them a pat. "These have been sitting here all this time.
    I'm too cheap to put them in a storage space. I wonder where yours could be."
    "No idea?" Ellen shelved another box, pressing the lid on tight. "It seems strange that it's missing."
    "It should have been here." Musko's tone turned thoughtful as he reached for another box. "I have some of Karen's personal papers inside, from her desk drawers. Maybe your file is in there."
    "Why would it be?"
    "Because of the article?" Musko grabbed the last box. "She bought thirty copies."
    Ellen felt touched. It was a secret pleasure of being a reporter. You never knew where your words landed.
    "Maybe she saved the file. I haven't even looked in those boxes yet.
    Ellen felt a twinge of guilt. "I hate to put you to this, if it's difficult."
    "No, let's get it done. I'll set you up in my study. You can look through them there."
    "That would be great," Ellen said, her hope surging. She grabbed her coat, and Musko parked the car.
    Then they turned out the lights and went into the house together.

Chapter Twenty-two
    Musko left Ellen in a home office that put hers to shame. His desk was a lustrous walnut, and he had a maroon leather chair with brass bolts around the edges. Built-in bookcases ringed the room, holding technical manuals and bound newsletters about structural engineering. The walls were lined with golf scenes and framed photographs of three tow-headed boys. There were no photos of Karen.
    Ellen turned her attention to the three boxes on the desk. She'd