Page 37 of Murder at Rescue Ridge

“Can I ask a question?” She wanted an outsider’s perspective.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Feel free to ask me anything. You don’t have to prep that a question is coming first.”

“Okay,” she said. “How well did you know my father?”

Conrad shrugged. “As well as you can know any of your parent’s closest confidants, I guess.” His gaze pierced through her. “Why?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” she admitted. “And I was just wondering how much I’m like him.”

“Not at all,” he said without hesitation.

She felt mild relief. Honest answers usually came without contemplation. “How so?”

“First of all, I never wanted to kiss the man,” Conrad said with the kind of earnest quality that made her laugh.

“Fair point,” she said. “What about his ethics?”

“You are nothing like him,” he said.

“Why are you so certain?”

“Because you’re risking your own freedom to help me, for starters.”

She couldn’t argue there. “I have a personal interest in finding the real killer. Doesn’t that make this a selfish move?”

Conrad shook his head. “That’s not the reason you’re doing it.” She must have given quite the look because he added, “You’re a good person, Nikki.”

“A case could be made for the opposite,” she argued.

“And it would be proven a bad theory,” he said as he closed the distance between them. When he brought his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, her heart squeezed. As he stood there, gazes locked, she would believe anything that came out of his mouth.

Conrad would have made a good litigator.

Nikki blinked in an attempt to break the spell that came over her every time she looked into those golden-brown eyes framed by the thickest set of lashes she’d ever seen. Conrad’s eyes were beautiful, though he would laugh at the compliment. He wouldn’t see himself in that light.

“How different am I?”

“For one, you have a kind heart,” Conrad said.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I’d rip you to shreds in court if it meant winning.”

“I doubt it,” he argued. “Because you care about what is right more than most. And you’re willing to step in and help someone even when you wanted to hate them from the get-go.”

She couldn’t argue there. Her mouth opened to protest anyway. It clamped shut just as fast.

“You’re reconsidering law school because you know that you don’t have it in you to fight for someone who is guilty,” he pointed out.

Again, her mouth opened and clamped shut just as quickly.

“There’s not a mean bone in your body,” he said. “I can’t say the same for your father. No disrespect meant.”

“Understood,” was all she could manage to say as she tried to blink back tears threatening to fall. Her stepfather had bragged about how great she would be in the courtroom. How she would tear anyone down who got in her way. He’d been proud of her killer instincts.

In truth, winning in amock trial when she pulled the straw that made her defend a liar had never felt like a victory. In fact, it had felt like she was compromising herself on the deepest level.

“You don’t have to quit law school to be a good person,” he continued.

“What makes you think I’m serious about leaving school?”

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