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“It was.”
“What can we offer you? Coffee?”
“Thanks, if you’re having some.”
“David?” She turned away from the assistant, obviously expecting him to jump into action.
A point in her favor, in Roarke’s opinion.
She gestured to a seating area, waited until he chose one of the wide, black chairs.
“I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” he began.
“It’s my pleasure. Do you have other business in Philadelphia?”
“Not today.”
The assistant hurried over with a tray, the coffeepot, cups and saucers, a little bowl of sugar cubes, and a small pitcher of what might have been actual cream.
“Thank you, David. Hold my calls. Now, how would you like your coffee?”
“Just black, thanks. Ms. Corday, I’m aware your time is valuable.”
Her smile was easy as she crossed her legs. “I’m happy to invest as much of it as you need.”
“Appreciated.” He accepted the coffee, and cut through the ameni-ties. “I’m actually here on a personal matter. I’m here on behalf of your niece.”
Her eyes, as quiet a brown as her hair, met his. The brows above them lifted in puzzlement. “My niece? I don’t have a niece.”
“Nixie, your stepbrother’s daughter.”
“My stepbrother? I assume you’re speaking of . . .” He could almost see her flip through her files for a name. “Grant. My father was married to his mother for a short time. I’m afraid I don’t consider him my stepbrother.”
“Are you aware that he and his wife, and his son, were recently murdered?”
“No.” She set her coffee down. “No. God, that’s horrible. How?”
“In a home invasion. They were killed, along with a young girl who was spending the night with their daughter, with Nixie. Nixie wasn’t in her bedroom, but in another part of the house, and survived.”
“I’m very, very sorry to hear this. Tremendously sorry. I did hear something in the media about these murders. I’m afraid I didn’t put it together. I haven’t seen or had contact with Grant in years. This is shocking.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this way, but my concern now is for Nixie.”
“I’m a little c
onfused.” She shook her head, touched her fingers to the seed pearls at her throat. “Did you know Grant?”
“I didn’t, no. My involvement in all this happened after the murders.”
“I see.” Those quiet eyes sharpened. “Your wife is with the NYPSD, isn’t she?”
“She is, yes. This is her case.” He waited a beat, but she failed to ask what the status of that case might be. “At the moment, Nixie is in an undisclosed location, in protective custody. She can’t stay there indefinitely.”
“Surely Child Protection—”
“Your stepbrother and his wife named legal guardians, but circumstances prevent those guardians from fulfilling the agreement. As a result, this child has no one who knew her family, no one who had a connection with them, with her, to care for her. I’m here to ask you to consider doing so.”
“Me?” Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. “That’s impossible. Out of the question.”
