Charlotte wouldn’t get up. “You have to. I’ve asked everyone else. You’re the only one left.”

How flattering, Kate thought sourly. What, she was now the patron saint of lost causes? “Who gave you my name?” she said.

Charlotte looked up, hope kindling in her eyes. “An attorney.”

Kate was immediately suspicious. “Which attorney?”

“Brendan McCord.”

Kate took a deep and, she hoped, unobtrusive breath. “Did he,” she said through her teeth. If this was some kind of joke, there wasn’t going to be enough left of Brendan McCord, Esq., to feed to a parakeet.

On the other hand, Brendan had helped a great deal on her last case. If this was payback, she owed him. She took another deep breath, not bothering to hide this one. “Did you tell him you were coming to me?”

Charlotte nodded, beginning to tear up.

“What did he say, exactly?”

Charlotte produced a delicate lace handkerchief and caught each individual tear before it damaged her makeup. She folded it neatly and put it back in her pocket. “He said that you were expensive but that you were the best in the state.”

Well. At least Brendan wasn’t sending her charity cases. Still, her shower-always supposing she ever got a chance at the hot water-and her books and her bed were no less inviting than they had been half an hour before.

“Oh,” Charlotte said, “and he also said that you owed him one.”

Son of a bitch. There wasn’t going to be enough left of Brendan McCord to feed a goddamn earthworm.

Charlotte looked at her uncertainly. “Are you all right? Your face looks kind of red.”

“Me?” Kate said. “I’m fine. Peachy.” Just because she owed Brendan McCord one-well, several-oh hell, probably a baker’s dozen-didn’t mean she was giving up without a fight. “Did Brendan happen to mention just how expensive I am?”