Scent of Danger

"Dr. Radison said we could use his office," she informed them. "I'd prefer that this conversation remain private. I'm sure you understand."

"No problem." There was a hint of compassion in Detective Whitman's tone—whether it was because she was naturally less abrasive or because she and Barton played good cop, bad cop, remained to be seen. "Let's go."

"I'll wait for you in the lounge," Dylan told Sabrina. "As soon as you're done—which, as I see it, should be ten minutes max given how little you can do to help the detectives build their case—I'll get you over to your hotel so you can rest."

Talk about pointed. And obvious. Coming from a man who knew all the rules of subtlety, as well as how to turn on the charm to achieve his goals, it seemed as if Dylan wanted to antagonize the cops.

Whatever was bugging him, he was ripping mad.

She shot him a curious look. "Thanks."

Closeted in Dr. Radison's office, the detectives didn't waste any time.

"Mr. Newport seems very protective of you," Whitman said. "Yet you've only known him since yesterday." She perched at the edge of the desk, her long legs crossed in front of her, while her partner stood, arms folded, near the windows. They were clearly establishing a dominant stance, but Sabrina didn't care. She was worn out and stressed to the max.

"It's Carson Brooks he's protective of," Sabrina corrected, easing back in a thick leather chair and eyeing the detective to determine if her earlier personable manner was indeed a facade. "For obvious reasons, Dylan views me as an extension of his mentor—and a possible lifeline, as well."

"So it's true that you're Carson Brooks's biological child," Detective Barton clarified.

"Yes."

"Did that news come as a surprise to you? Or were you aware of your paternity?"

"I had no idea Carson Brooks was my father." Sabrina didn't appreciate the dubious glint in his eyes and, reflexively, her chin came up as she prepared for a less amiable talk than she'd expected. "Frankly, I was shocked."

"Shocked." Barton repeated the word with more than a trace of cynicism. "You're a very bright woman, Ms. Radcliffe. You've got an IQ that's through the sky, and a career that's based on identifying problems and figuring out solutions. Are you saying you never questioned your mother about something as fundamental as who your father was? That you never demanded answers?"

Okay, now Sabrina was getting pissed. "That's definitely not what I'm saying."

"In that case, are you suggesting your mother refused to answer, that she never told you she and Carson Brooks were once involved?"

"I'm not saying that either. And, with all due respect, Detective, I'd appreciate your losing the attitude. You don't win allies by biting their heads off. Nor do you get answers by fi

ring questions so rapidly there's no time for answers."

Was it Sabrina's imagination, or did Detective Whitman shoot her partner a cool-it look?

Barton's tense response was to yank out a pack of gum, unwrap a piece, and pop it in his mouth. "Fine. I'll chew. You talk."

"Sounds fair." Sabrina gave him a tight-lipped smile. "To begin with, my mother and I discussed my conception as soon as I was old enough to understand the facts of life. She answered all my questions. As for mentioning Carson Brooks or the fact that they were involved, she didn't. Because they weren't. You're apparently unaware that I was conceived through donor insemination. My mother was unmarried and unattached. My father was an independent sperm donor. I learned yesterday that that donor was Carson Brooks."

Both detectives looked startled by the revelation.

"That explains a lot." Detective Whitman spoke first, having chewed over the various ramifications. "An independent sperm donor. So Mr. Brooks was anonymous."

"Right."

"Which means that neither he nor your mother knew the other's identity."

Well, that wasn't entirely true. And Sabrina knew enough about law enforcement to know that if she shaded the truth, it would come back to haunt her.

"That's too broad a generalization," she clarified.

"Fine. Narrow it down for us."

"They didn't know each other's names, no. Nor did they ever meet. But my mother had specific, strict criteria in mind for the man who fathered her child, which was why she chose this route to begin with. So it wasn't just a case of the donor leaving a sperm deposit and going home. Carson was given enough facts to make that clear. As for my mother..." A brief hesitation. Odd, how calculated her mother's motives sounded, when she'd really just been a clever, levelheaded woman doing the best she could to ensure her child was all he or she could be. "It was more complicated for her."

"How so?"