And if she was going to do that, I wanted to be the one helping her.
I arrived at her office building at nine in the morning.
The lobby was all clean lines and security desks and the particular quiet of a building that had been designed to communicate serious work happening inside it. I gave my name at the front desk and said I was there to see Rachel Horton. I expected to wait, possibly to be turned away.
They sent me up.
Her office was on the top floor and her assistant, a composed young woman who looked like she'd been trained to manage difficult people, showed me in with minimal expression.
Rachel was behind her desk when I walked in. She looked at me and the expression on her face was the same one she'd worn at the bar, just a complete absence of any goodwill.
"Camilla," she sai
