though. Now, a neighbor walked him at midday, but he spent quite a few hours alone.
Copper had been a great comfort to her in the days after Jason’s death, the one constant in a world gone topsy-turvy. She wouldn’t know what to do without him.
She quickly changed into a Houston Astros T-shirt, a pair of sweats and walking shoes. This was her favorite time of day, taking Copper for his walk, when she could clear her mind and stretch her muscles. Her building had a gym she could use anytime, but she preferred a peaceful walk.
Raleigh grabbed her cell phone from her purse and stuck it in her pocket, then clipped Copper’s leash to his collar and took him downstairs via the elevator—the stairs were a bit much for his tiny legs.
Irving, the doorman, greeted her with a nod and opened the door for her. His presence was Daniel’s doing. Usually only the most posh apartment buildings enjoyed such a luxury, but Daniel was serious about his employees’ safety, and a number of them lived at this address.
Soon she and Copper were on their way along their usual route, surrounded by commuters and pedestrians heading home, but still alone.
Her thoughts turned to Griffin, and that war-orphan story he’d written. She couldn’t figure out who he really was—bottom-feeder reporter, out to nail a sensational story no matter who he had to stomp on, or a compassionate journalist, shining a light in dark corners, revealing truths? It bugged her that she couldn’t peg him. She was normally pretty good at peeling away fake facades and ulterior motives, but she didn’t feel she’d figured out the real Griffin Benedict.
She was only a couple of blocks from home when her cell rang. This time, it played the theme song to the Perry Mason show.
“Very funny, guys.” Someone at the office was always downloading ridiculous ringtones onto her phone. She still had no idea who the culprit was.
She stopped to let Copper sniff at a particularly intriguing bush as she dug the phone out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Anonymous.
A lot of the people she talked to, like cops and other lawyers, were freakish about privacy. With a shrug, she answered. “Raleigh Shinn.”
The weird, tinny voice that greeted her sent a shiver through her body. “Miss Shinn. It’s not a good idea to continue your quest to free Anthony Simonetti.”
“Who am I speaking with, please?” She ordered her voice to remain calm, though she felt an urge to fling her phone into a nearby bush as if it were a poisonous snake.
“Who I am is not important. You should know, though, that the man is guilty.”
“Really? What makes you such an expert on the subject?”
“He told me he did it. He had no reason to lie. The right man is paying the price for that murder.”
“Who are you? I can’t take you seriously until I know who I’m dealing with.”
“You’d better take me seriously. Or it’s more than your reputation on the line.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m an Astros fan, too.” The caller disconnected.
Raleigh suddenly felt as vulnerable as if she were walking naked down the street. The caller could see her. Right now.
She whirled around, checking out nearby cars and pedestrians. No one acted suspiciously. But all those buildings surrounding her, all those dark windows.
In a hurry to get somewhere safe, she picked up Copper and walked—quickly but not running—toward the front door of her building.
She’d almost made it to a safe haven when she heard footsteps behind her. Faster, closer.
“Raleigh, wait up.”
She whirled around and nearly collided with Griffin. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“What happened? Who was on the phone?”
“How did you—”
“I was watching you, okay? You looked upset. No, you looked terrified.”
“I have to get inside. Someone is watching me. Some one besides you. He…he saw what I was wearing.”
Griffin tensed and looked around, automatically moving to shield her
Copper had been a great comfort to her in the days after Jason’s death, the one constant in a world gone topsy-turvy. She wouldn’t know what to do without him.
She quickly changed into a Houston Astros T-shirt, a pair of sweats and walking shoes. This was her favorite time of day, taking Copper for his walk, when she could clear her mind and stretch her muscles. Her building had a gym she could use anytime, but she preferred a peaceful walk.
Raleigh grabbed her cell phone from her purse and stuck it in her pocket, then clipped Copper’s leash to his collar and took him downstairs via the elevator—the stairs were a bit much for his tiny legs.
Irving, the doorman, greeted her with a nod and opened the door for her. His presence was Daniel’s doing. Usually only the most posh apartment buildings enjoyed such a luxury, but Daniel was serious about his employees’ safety, and a number of them lived at this address.
Soon she and Copper were on their way along their usual route, surrounded by commuters and pedestrians heading home, but still alone.
Her thoughts turned to Griffin, and that war-orphan story he’d written. She couldn’t figure out who he really was—bottom-feeder reporter, out to nail a sensational story no matter who he had to stomp on, or a compassionate journalist, shining a light in dark corners, revealing truths? It bugged her that she couldn’t peg him. She was normally pretty good at peeling away fake facades and ulterior motives, but she didn’t feel she’d figured out the real Griffin Benedict.
She was only a couple of blocks from home when her cell rang. This time, it played the theme song to the Perry Mason show.
“Very funny, guys.” Someone at the office was always downloading ridiculous ringtones onto her phone. She still had no idea who the culprit was.
She stopped to let Copper sniff at a particularly intriguing bush as she dug the phone out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Anonymous.
A lot of the people she talked to, like cops and other lawyers, were freakish about privacy. With a shrug, she answered. “Raleigh Shinn.”
The weird, tinny voice that greeted her sent a shiver through her body. “Miss Shinn. It’s not a good idea to continue your quest to free Anthony Simonetti.”
“Who am I speaking with, please?” She ordered her voice to remain calm, though she felt an urge to fling her phone into a nearby bush as if it were a poisonous snake.
“Who I am is not important. You should know, though, that the man is guilty.”
“Really? What makes you such an expert on the subject?”
“He told me he did it. He had no reason to lie. The right man is paying the price for that murder.”
“Who are you? I can’t take you seriously until I know who I’m dealing with.”
“You’d better take me seriously. Or it’s more than your reputation on the line.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m an Astros fan, too.” The caller disconnected.
Raleigh suddenly felt as vulnerable as if she were walking naked down the street. The caller could see her. Right now.
She whirled around, checking out nearby cars and pedestrians. No one acted suspiciously. But all those buildings surrounding her, all those dark windows.
In a hurry to get somewhere safe, she picked up Copper and walked—quickly but not running—toward the front door of her building.
She’d almost made it to a safe haven when she heard footsteps behind her. Faster, closer.
“Raleigh, wait up.”
She whirled around and nearly collided with Griffin. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“What happened? Who was on the phone?”
“How did you—”
“I was watching you, okay? You looked upset. No, you looked terrified.”
“I have to get inside. Someone is watching me. Some one besides you. He…he saw what I was wearing.”
Griffin tensed and looked around, automatically moving to shield her
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