A Score to Settle Read Free

anomalies brought to light during Daniel’s own murder trial. The prosecution never successfully explained where those shavings had come from, but Daniel had always believed they’d come from the murderer’s own clothing during a struggle.
    These days, metal shavings could be analyzed every which way right down to their atoms. Every metal object had a distinct signature, so shavings could be matched to their source. It wasn’t perfect, not like DNA or fingerprints. But cases had been won and lost based on similar trace evidence.
    The other anomaly was, in fact, a bit of unidentified DNA found on Andreas’s clothing. Another similarity to the Gables/Sissom case, which Jamie herself had just mentioned.
    “I don’t recall hearing about any metal shavings,” Jamie said.
    Daniel tried not to be too disappointed. It was a long shot. “Let me go over the facts, then, as I see them.”
    Jamie glanced at her watch. “I have other appointments today. You can put your so-called facts in an email.”
    Just then someone tapped on Daniel’s office door. He knew that tap. Everyone knocked on doors differently. It was one of those patterns that Daniel had picked up without trying.
    “Come in, Jillian.”
    She entered, holding a plate with a metal warming lid over it in one hand, and a tall glass of iced tea in the other. “I am so sorry to interrupt, but Claude insists this chicken will go bad if it’s not eaten immediately. Something about the sauce coagulating.”
    It was past Daniel’s usual lunchtime; the muscle spasm—and Jamie’s tardiness—had put a kink in his schedule. Jillian knew he put great stock in eating well and often to fuel the brain. But she also knew not to interrupt an important meeting.
    He accepted the plate from her. “Thank you, Jillian, but it would be excessively rude for me to eat in front of my guest. Especially since she hasn’t had breakfast.”
    “I never said I skipped breakfast,” Jamie objected.
    “But you did.” He knew he was right just by the slight shade of defensiveness in her tone.
    “Of course I brought a plate for Ms. McNair.” Jillian quickly produced another covered dish from a rolling cart she’d left in the hallway.
    “I’m not staying,” Jamie said.
    “Give me fifteen minutes to convince you.” Daniel stood and came out from behind his desk. “Share a meal with me. You’ve got to eat at some point, and this will save you time.” And probably improve your temperament. Also, sharing food was a bonding activity. He needed to convince Jamie that he was not the enemy. If things went his way, they would soon become allies, fighting to save an innocent man’s life. As the prosecutor of this case, she was uniquely able to handle some tasks he would find difficult to do himself.
    Jamie inhaled deeply; she probably had gotten a whiff of whatever genius concoction Claude, his chef, had whipped up today, because something convinced her.
    “Fine, if you insist, I’ll have some lunch. But keep in mind you can’t soften me up with a gourmet meal.”
    No, but good food could make her more open to his suggestions.
    Jillian set up their lunch in the small room adjacent to Daniel’s office, where he sometimes took his meals when he was deep into a project and didn’t want to go all the way upstairs to the dining room or patio. He’d had it specially designed to relieve stress.
    Although it had no windows, he’d had lights installed that replicated the electromagnetic spectrum of sunlight. The limestone floor and running-water feature helped to ionize the air, and all the plants, of course, provided an oxygen-rich environment.
    “Good night!” Jamie paused at the doorway, her jaw about to hit the floor.





CHAPTER TWO
    “S OMETHING WRONG?” Daniel asked innocently as Jillian placed napkins and silverware on the wrought-iron umbrella table.
    Jamie shook her head in obvious amazement. “Oh, nothing, just that I thought for a moment I’d walked through a wormhole and