It was after nine when he arrived at the house. Myles eyed the carafe of bourbon sitting on the butler next to the window in his study. He usually had a finger or two after a long day, but tonight he couldn’t afford being the slightest bit intoxicated in case he got a phone call from the hospital. If Cressa started going into paroxysms, he needed a clear head.
Instead, he helped himself to a plate of rewarmed casserole and a glass of milk, then sat himself down in his easy chair in the living room to catch up on what was going on in Grimm City via the newspaper’s evening edition. He needed time to unwind after the stress of the day’s events. The chance to mentally digest what he’d learned and observed, especially when it came to the Locke woman.
The Locke woman. Damn him, but why did she
