Dark Room (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 2)

The first of those appointments was with Charlie Denton, a fact that pleased her on several levels. Professionally, she wanted to expand Charlie’s chances of finding the right mate. She wanted to hear everything about his weekend—he’d taken out both Karly Fontaine and Rachel Ogden. Both women would be strong complements to Charlie, each in different ways.

And, yes, she had a personal motive in wanting to see him, too. She was anxious to know if Charlie had had any success in prying information out of anyone in the Manhattan D.A.’s office.

They met at a Cosi in midtown, halfway between the agency’s Upper East Side location and the D.A.’s downtown office. Over a light lunch and a cup of coffee, they talked.

“You look tired,” Charlie began, studying Morgan’s

face.

“I guess I am. Life is hectic on all fronts, and I’m not sleeping well.” She pulled out the file she’d brought with Charlie’s name printed on it, ready to jot down notes. “I’m dying to hear about your dates with Rachel and Karly.” A weighty pause. “But first, I have to ask, has anyone in the D.A.’s office come through for you? Did you learn anything new?”

Charlie lowered his gaze, concentrating on stirring his coffee. “Nothing I can discuss.”

Morgan went very still. “What does that mean?”

He sighed. “Look, Morgan, I’m pushing as hard as I can. But this is a delicate situation. It requires a fair amount of diplomacy—and I don’t mean because I’m covering my own butt. Like it or not, my sources have to feel certain that I’ll keep whatever I’m told in confidence.”

“In other words, they’re protecting their butts.”

“In some cases, yes. In some cases, they’re not working with facts, only supposition and hearsay. And in some cases, I’m easing my way through a chain of command in order to find the right person to supply my answers—if those answers exist.”

“Does that mean you don’t know anything yet, or you know something but aren’t authorized to share it with me?”

“It means you have to give me a little time. I’m operating on instinct and bread crumbs of information I’m picking up along the way. When I have something concrete under my belt, I’ll speed-dial your number. I promise.”

Reluctantly, Morgan accepted his explanation and his assurance. “I appreciate that. I realize you’re putting yourself through this primarily because of the pressure Arthur is exerting.”

“You’re wrong,” he interrupted. “My office’s motive is one thing. Mine’s another.” He leaned forward, staring at her intently. “It’s true that Congressman Shore has a lot of influence. And, yes, the D.A. is eager to offer his cooperation. But I’m not doing this for the congressman. I’m doing it for your father—and for you.”

Morgan’s cup paused halfway to her lips. There was an intensity about Charlie’s tone, and his words, that caught her off guard. She’d known he admired her father, maybe even hero-worshipped him a little. But what he’d just said sounded like more than that. It sounded personal.

She sipped at her coffee, trying to figure out how to approach this. Ultimately, she decided that direct was best. “Charlie, is there something you’re not telling me? Something you had firsthand knowledge of seventeen years ago that’s driving you now?”

Clearly, the question startled him. His eyes narrowed. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just the way you said that, about doing this for my father and me, you sounded…I don’t know, invested.”

“I am invested,” he replied flatly. “I thought the world of your father. I think the world of you. Anything I can do to set things right, I will.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Morgan wasn’t ready to back down. The feeling she had wasn’t going away. And her instincts were rarely without basis. “I’m not questioning your motives. I’m questioning your suspicions. You were working for the D.A. when my father was killed. Were you privy to something that didn’t seem right, but that you dismissed as unrelated at the time?”

Charlie’s gaze hardened. “Don’t pump me, Morgan. I’m a prosecutor. I manipulate information out of people, not the other way around.”

“Right. And you work for the D.A. Your allegiance has to encompass more than just my father and me.”

“It has to. That doesn’t mean it does.”

“What are you—” Morgan bit off her question. She was dying to push this. But something in Charlie’s expression made her back down. She’d have to bide her time. Otherwise, she’d blow one of the few inside connections she had.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “Let’s drop this for now. Whatever it is, you’ll tell me…when you’re ready.”

A flash of irony flickered in his eyes. “Count on it.” He resumed eating his sandwich.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan changed the subject. “Let’s talk about the weekend. How did things go with your dates?”

“Very well.” Charlie’s words seemed forced, complimentary or not. “Rachel might be young, but she’s a real go-getter. I admire her ambition. Hell, I see it in myself. Anyway, we went to dinner, saw a show, then had drinks and debated the death penalty until three a.m. As for Karly, she’s great-looking, charming, and intuitive. My energy level was low the night we got together. She picked up on that right away, and kept things mellow. We had a leisurely dinner at La Grenouille. Actually, we saw Congressman Shore there. He was with Daniel Kellerman and several other businessmen. I would have said hello, but they seemed to be in the middle of a heavy discussion.”

A shrug. “Probably about the bill Arthur’s sponsoring. He has dozens of meetings between now and January, when Congress reconvenes.” Morgan dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “So back to Karly and Rachel. Any sparks? Any desire to see either of them again? Because it sounds to me more like you’re delivering a keynote address than reporting on dates with two incredible women.”