The girl she had been sent to find.
A few weeks after she’d returned from New Mexico, Morgan had received a call about a missing girl. Morgan had sat with her weeping mother, not knowing what to do to comfort her.
“Her father died two years ago,” Denise had wept, dabbing her leaking nose with a moist tissue. “It was horrible. He was killed in a car accident, by a drunk driver.”
Morgan’s shoulders tensed. Not another one. Not another young woman left without a father, because of some idiot.
“At least, that’s what we thought at the time,” the woman continued, glancing up at Morgan with watery eyes. “Now I can’t be certain. His brother was mixed up with the mob—a lot of scary people who are good at getting away scot-free even though they’ve done horrible things!”
Morgan knew those people. She’d seen them enter their jail cells with smug grins before being removed after one night; no matter how big the bail was, somehow they always had the money.
“So you believe Bella’s uncle may have something to do with this?”
“Yes,” Denise said, taking a deep breath. “Morgan, you have to help me!” she said, bursting into another fit of tears.
Morgan laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. She had learned to be a calm, steady presence in front of her clients. It was the best way to earn their trust, even if she did have misgivings about getting involved with the mob. Still, after the skinheads of New Mexico, what were these bozos?
“Denise,” she said, her voice composed. “I’m going to find your daughter and bring her home. Then we’re going to set you up with witness protection and get the both of you out of here, okay? Everything is go