The Secret Child. Jamie Denton Ann

       CHAPTER ONE

      M ARNI RODGERS TURNED to face the reporters. They were out in full force today. Bright lights from television cameras reflected off the heavy wood interior of the courtroom. The august forum had been transformed into a media circus. Dozens of reporters thrust microphones into her face as cameras clicked all around her, and Marni knew her photo would be splashed across the pages of newspapers throughout the nation. Her conviction of the serial killer had seen to that.

      Grabbing her dilapidated briefcase from the table, she moved forward, trying to ignore the shouted questions.

      “Ms. Rodgers, will the state be seeking the death penalty?”

      “Yes, we will.”

      “Marni, will the D.A. be assigning you to ‘death row’ now?”

      She recognized the voice of Mack Henley, a field reporter from the Times, and grinned, dropping her professional demeanor for a split second. Death row was a term the local press gave to A.D.A.s who routinely prosecuted special-circumstance cases. “You‘ll have to ask District Attorney Dorlan, Mack.”

      “What about a political career, Marni?”

      She almost laughed. These guys were amazing. One high-profile case and the media had her running for public office. She recognized the reporter from one of the local news shows. “No comment.”

      April Burnell stepped to the front of the crowd and thrust a microphone in front of her. “How does it feel, Ms. Rodgers?”

      Marni had dealt with April before and didn‘t particularly like her style. The woman had the tact of a bulldozer. “How does what feel, Ms. Burnell?” Marni asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

      “To be responsible for sending James Kendell to his death?”

      Marni took a deep breath before answering. “The penalty phase of the trial doesn‘t start for another two weeks.”

      “But aren‘t you seeking the death penalty?”

      “I‘m doing my job, Ms. Burnell. The job you, a taxpayer, are paying me to perform. Tell me, how do you feel when you do your job well?” Marni shouldered her way past April and reached for the door.

      The family of one of the victims came into the hallway, and the surge of reporters changed course, heading toward their new target like vultures intent on the remains of a two-day-old carcass. Relieved, Marni veered away from the throng and headed toward the elevators. Her escape went unnoticed.

      The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and Marni headed toward the exit. She pushed through the glass doors of the courthouse into the bright, unseasonably warm January sunshine, her steps hurried. As she neared the concrete steps, she glanced at her watch. Jenna, her twelve-year-old daughter, would be home from school in a few minutes. Marni couldn‘t wait to tell her the case was finally over. She smiled for the second time since hearing the jury had finally reached a verdict, a decision that had taken three weeks.

      Marni stepped forward and bumped into what she immediately thought of as a brick wall in an Armani suit. Her attaché slipped from her fingers and the faulty latch clicked open. Papers tumbled out and skittered to the ground.

      “I‘m sorry,” she said, bending to pick up the papers before they scattered away in the light breeze. “I wasn‘t paying attention.”

      The brick wall didn‘t say anything, but bent over to help. After the mess had been picked up, he extended his hand to give her the forms.

      Marni shoved them back into the briefcase. The scent of his cologne reached her nostrils. Polo. She inhaled deeply, then lifted her gaze to get a look at the guy who smelled so good. Her mouth fell open in shock.

      Cole Ballinger.

      Her Cole.

      Jenna‘s father. Oh, God!

      Recognition and then surprise flickered in his polished jade eyes. His lips curved into a disarming smile. “Marni. It‘s been a long time.” His voice was velvet-edged and strong.

      Marni didn‘t know what to say. Yes, it had been a long time. Thirteen years, and if he wanted to get technical about the whole thing, she‘d give him weeks and days, too. Oh, yes, a long time indeed since she‘d accepted Cole‘s father‘s offer and left Elk Falls. Too long, since Cole had married someone else while Marni carried his child. A child he knew nothing about.

      Time had been good to him. His neatly trimmed sable hair had no signs of gray. More devastatingly handsome than she remembered, he showed new strength and maturity. But, she reminded herself, he‘d only been twenty then, tall and gangly. He‘d filled out quite nicely if the way his broad shoulders fit the Armani suit was any indication.

      His name echoed through her mind. “Cole,” she whispered as he took her elbow and helped her to her feet. In an instant, Marni was eighteen again. Memories of the summer they‘d shared in Kansas before she left for California assaulted her suddenly fragile composure.

      “What brings you to Los Angeles?” She struggled to maintain an even, conciliatory tone. Dear God, he hadn‘t found out about Jenna, had he?

      An odd expression crossed Cole‘s features, one Marni couldn‘t define. “Ballinger Electronics is being sued,” he told