27 “Take a deep breath,” Christine advised. She was pacing restlessly in his office, her bright red stilettos occasionally catching on the carpet and nearly yanking themselves off her feet. She flicked them free automatically and continued to pace without missing a beat. “I’m fine,” Shawn said. He was shrugging into his jacket, pulling down the shades, nearly knocking over the potted plants behind his desk as he did so. It was dark outside, but the lights in his office were off. He'd been sitting at his desk for the past two hours, in the dark of the gloomy November afternoon, staring into space, with his phone resting silently on the credenza behind him, ringer switched off. Christine had found him there, after the receptionist had told her that she thought Mr. Waterstone hadn't come b

