By R. J. Jagger
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Extra resources for Lawyer Trap
I got the winner,” he told them. “That’ll be me,” one of them said. “My ass,” the other one said. Five minutes later he was up, racked ’em, and let the woman break. Two stripes went in. “You can still take solids if you want,” he said. She laughed, then walked over and leaned in. ” He cocked his head. ” That sounded good. “Fine, but now you got me motivated,” he warned. She ran a finger down his face. Along the scar. And laughed. “It won’t matter,” she said. ” She was about twenty-seven, five-feet-three with jet-black hair, the same color as his, in fact.
When he walked in, the woman giving the tattoo looked up. “Hi, I’m Mia,” she said. “Go ahead and look around. ” She fit the bill, perfectly—Hispanic, mid-twenties, with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore a tank top with no bra, showing off strong arms covered in ink. The woman getting the tattoo would work too, although she would be second choice. She was getting the new artwork on her left breast, a small rose or flower of some sort. “Just looking,” he said. “Besides the stuff on the walls,” she said, “there’s books on the desk, too.
She took him to be a killer. Apparently he had a certain MO that she recognized. Anyway, since the man asked her questions that could possibly be viewed as the type of thing a patient might ask a psychologist, she wanted a legal opinion on whether the conversation was covered by the physician-patient privilege. ” Blake nodded. “You’re talking about Dr. Beverly Twenhofel,” he said. “Exactly, that’s her,” she said. ” Blake took a swig of the nonalcoholic beer. “The same thought came to me at one point, namely Rachel’s working on a case potentially involving a killer, and then she ends up missing.