EIGHT
JULY 10
Chris nervously awaited his arrival. She glanced at the wall clock one more time and saw that it was 4:15 p.m. He was fifteen minutes late. Maybe he wouldn’t show up and this would all be over. Even as she allowed that thought to settle, she knew it didn’t ring true. She knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this that easily. This headstrong, blackmailer; this type ‘A’ personality, had seemingly emerged from a man who had appeared smart, reserved and proper. How was it possible? As she considered this, the door opened and he walked into the room without knocking. He pulled the door behind him, but it didn’t close completely. Neither of them seemed to notice in the high anxiety of the moment.
“Good afternoon, Chris. It seems that you and I need to talk,” he said, plantin
