A Conflict of Interest by Anna Adams Page A

pretended he hadn’t been thinking of her since the verdict. “Are you all right?”
    “You need to call your daughter.”
    “My—Leila? How do you know my daughter?”
    “You need to call her. Please don’t ask me why, because I can’t say, but you need to do it.”
    “Wait a minute, Maria.” His thoughts rushed ahead of him. “Why are you telling me to call my daughter? How do you know Leila? What’s wrong?”
    She didn’t answer at first. Indecision came through her silence. “Just do it. Don’t overthink.”
    He wasted no time being insulted. “Okay.” But he wanted to know, and Leila obviously wouldn’t explain what was going on.
    “I’m hanging up now.”
    “If she hasn’t told me, she won’t—”
    Too late. The phone went dead.
    A crash exploded downstairs. Thank God. He hadn’t heard that sound since Leila had last busted through the front door eighteen months ago, shouting, “Mom, I’m home.”
    He reached the bedroom door in about half a step. The file in his hand crumpled against the door frame. Nothing like an angry divorce to teach a man family was more important than his job. He tossed the file toward his bed and met his daughter at the top of the stairs.
    “Leila? How did you know I was here?”
    “Called the courthouse first.” Breathing fast, she grabbed the newel post. A tall, lithe wand of rage. Damp strands of dirty blond hair stuck to her face.
    “Why are you crying?” He tried to hold her, but she put her hands on his chest and shoved him so hard his back hit the wall.
    “Why do you always screw up my life, Dad? Don’t you have anyone else to torture?”
    “Leila.” He touched his chest as if he could feel the pieces of his heart that only his daughter would ever own.
    Kate had insisted that he was as detached with them as he made himself be in the courtroom. He’d tried to show Leila that wasn’t true, but he’d started trying too late. Her pain cut deep.
    “Screwing up your life is the one thing your mom and I both tried hardest not to do.”
    “You talk a lot, Dad, and you pretend you see everything.” Leila waved her hands as if she might be able to produce magic. “You see nothing. You don’t even know how to pay attention.”
    “I don’t understand you, and I’m a little worried. Maria Keaton just called me and said you and I needed to talk.”
    “That’s what I mean. You’re clueless.”
    “I am.” But he was trying with all his might to get at least one clue. “Can you calm down some?”
    Maybe she only exhaled, but it sounded like a hiss as the breath left her body. Half expecting her to shove him again, Jake stayed against the wall.
    “What’s wrong, Leila?”
    “The first time I needed you, I was in kindergarten and you were my show-and-tell. I told, but I damn sure couldn’t show because you forgot to come to my classroom.”
    “Forgot?” Once more, he rubbed his chest. He’d rather she’d thumped him again with her fists. “I never forgot. Are you sure I wasn’t busy?”
    “Mom said you forgot.” She pushed back her hair, gulping.
    “Honey, I think you’re going to be sick.” It wasn’t a good moment to suggest her mom might have lied in anger. Or disappointment. “I never meant to let you down.” He took a step toward her, but that only seemed to infuriate her again. “You’re not mad at me right now because of something I didn’t do when you were in kindergarten?”
    “Are you really this blind?” She pressed both hands to her face. “I shouldn’t get personal.” She looked up again. “Maria,” she said. “Maria Keaton.”
    “I told you, she called.” He struggled to make some sense of this conversation. “What the hell is going on with you and Maria? How do you even know her?” But as he asked, he began to understand.
    “My doctor,” Leila said, her tone so cold his blood seemed to freeze.
    “Your doctor.” He repeated the word, but he barely comprehended. “Your doctor,” he said again. “Why do