Free Dead by Morning by Beverly Barton Page B

escorted their prisoner into the room indicated for Browning to take a seat. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sat. His gaze never left Maleah.
    Derek’s gut tightened as his instincts flashed a warning—danger!
    “I don’t get many visitors,” Browning said in a heavy Southern accent, his voice as smooth as glass. “Certainly none as pretty as you, Ms. Perdue.”
    Although Derek sensed Maleah tense, the action wasn’t visible. He had to give her credit for not even flinching.
    “And I’m unaccustomed to visiting murderers in prison,” Maleah replied. “Especially ones as reprehensible as you are, Mr. Browning.”
    His chuckled softly. “Touché, my dear.”
    Maleah took the chair facing Browning, almost close enough to touch him, but not quite. She looked him square in the eye. They sat there staring at each other.
    Derek barely controlled the urge to move in behind Maleah and stand at her back. His protective male instincts urged him to issue the man a warning. If you mess with this woman, you’ll have to deal with me.
    “Do you know why I’m here?” Maleah asked.
    Browning’s smile widened, showcasing a set of amazingly white, straight teeth. Apparently the state of Georgia provided great dental care for their inmates.
    “I assume that you . . . or rather whatever agency you work for wants something they think only I can give them.”
    Derek was sure that Maleah wouldn’t buy the man’s I-don’t-know-anything act.
    “You know who I work for,” Maleah said. “You were informed that Mr. Lawrence—” she inclined her head slightly backward toward Derek “—and I work for the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency before you agreed to meet with us.”
    “Knowing who you work for and why you’re here is not the same thing.”
    Maleah fixed her gaze on Browning. “I’ll ask you again, do you know why I’m here?”
    “We are allowed newspapers and magazines and television in here. And I occasionally have a visitor. People talk. I listen.”
    “What have you been listening to?”
    “This and that. Whatever interests me.”
    “What interests you, Mr. Browning?”
    That’s it, Maleah, Derek thought. Stay calm, keep things easy, remain completely in control. Don’t let his evasiveness get to you.
    “Why don’t you call me Jerome?” Browning’s blueeyed gaze traveled over Maleah, pausing on her breasts, which were modestly concealed by her lightweight blazer. “I’m more inclined to share confidences with people I’m on a first name basis with.”
    “All right, Jerome, what have you heard recently that interests you?”
    He leaned back in the chair, spread his legs apart as far as the shackles allowed, and dropped his handcuffed hands between his thighs. “Well, Maleah . . . I can call you Maleah, can’t I?”
    She nodded.
    Derek knew that Maleah hated the way Browning was ogling her, but she acted as if she didn’t care, as if she wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.
    Smiling, he lifted his gaze back to her face.
    “It’s a pretty name for a pretty woman,” Browning said. “Family name? Were you named after your grandmother?”
    He’s trying your patience. Derek wished he could tell her, but suspected she knew what Browning was doing. The man wanted to get a reaction out of her, wanted her to become impatient and lose her temper.
    “We’ve just met, Jerome,” Maleah told him. “We aren’t at a stage in our relationship where we exchange personal information. Right now, today, our conversation is about business.”
    His smile disappeared as he cocked one brow and lowered his lids until his eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Whose business, mine or yours?”
    “That’s what I want you to tell me. I’d like to know if your business and Powell Agency business are related.”
    Forced and all the more deceptive, his smile returned. “What business could I possibly conduct in here? I’m considered a maximum security inmate. My privileges are limited. No way to get