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your secretary and her brother?”
    â€œNo,” Becky began, thinking of the legal fees she couldn’t afford to pay.
    â€œYes,” Bob Malcolm interrupted. “It’s a first offense, and the boy is a hardship case.”
    â€œThe boy is a sullen, uncooperative young brat,” he corrected. “I’ve already spoken to him. I don’t consider him a hardship case,” Kilpatrick said curtly.
    Becky could imagine how Clay would react to a man like Kilpatrick. The boy had no respect at all for men—not with the example his father had set. “He’s not a bad boy,” she pleaded. “It’s the company he’s keeping. Please, I’ll try to work with him…”
    â€œYour father’s done a great job of that already,” Kilpatrick said, totally unaware of the real situation at home as he went for her throat with sickening ease, his dark brown eyes stabbing into hers as he leaned back with his cigar between his big fingers. “There’s no point in letting the boy back on the streets unless his home situation changes. He’ll just do the same thing again.”
    Her hazel eyes met his dark ones. “Do you have a brother, Mr. Kilpatrick?”
    â€œNot to my knowledge, Miss Cullen.”
    â€œIf you had one, you might understand how I feel. This is the first time he’s done anything like this. It’s like throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”
    â€œThis baby was in possession of illegal drugs. Cocaine, to be exact, and not just cocaine—crack.” He leaned forward, looking more Indian than ever, his level, unblinking stare faintly dangerous. “He needs guidance. You and your father quite obviously aren’t capable of giving it to him.”
    â€œThat was a low blow, Kilpatrick,” Bob Malcolm said tautly.
    â€œIt was an accurate one,” he returned without apology. “At this age, boys don’t change without help. He should have gotten that in the beginning, and it may be too late already.”
    â€œBut…!” Becky said.
    â€œYour brother is damned lucky he didn’t get caught peddling any of that poison on the street!” he said shortly. “I hate drug pushers. I’ll go to any lengths to prosecute them.”
    â€œBut he isn’t a pusher,” Becky said huskily, her big hazel eyes wet with tears.
    Kilpatrick hadn’t felt compassion in a long time, and he didn’t like it. He averted his eyes. “Not yet,” he agreed. He sighed angrily, glancing from Becky to Malcolm. “All right. Gillen, the magistrate, says he’ll go along with whatever I decide. The boy denies possession. He says that he didn’t know how it got in his jacket, and the only witnesses are the Harris boys. They, of course, back his story to the hilt,” he added with a cold smile.
    â€œIn other words,” Bob said with a faint smile, “you don’t have much of a case.”
    â€œChorus and verse,” Kilpatrick agreed. “This time,” Kilpatrick said with a meaningful glance at Becky. “I’ll drop the charges.”
    Becky felt sick with relief. “Can I see him?” she asked huskily. She was too badly hurt to say any more, and this man hated her. She’d get no sympathy or help from him.
    â€œYes. I’ll want Brady at juvenile hall to talk to the boy, and there’ll be a condition for the release. Now, go away. I have work to do.”
    â€œOkay, we’ll get out of the way,” Malcolm said, rising. “Thanks, Kilpatrick,” he said formally.
    Kilpatrick got up, too. He stuck one hand in his pocket, staring at Rebecca’s tragic face with mixed emotions. He felt sorry for her, and he didn’t want to. He wondered why her father hadn’t come with her. She was very thin, and the sadness in her oval face was disturbing. It surprised him that it bothered him. These days, very little did. She wasn’t the