Thirty-Eight
THIS TIME, HE KEEPS us waiting in his outer office.
“Any idea how much longer Mr. Dohrmann will be?” Angela asks. “Our meeting was at 11 a.m.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jenkins,” the administrative assistant says, “but Mr. Dohrmann is in a meeting with our new Assistant State Attorney.”
“Brenda Eppings?”
“Yes, that’s her.” She looks at her clock. “They should be . . . finished soon, I would think.”
Just then, the phone on the desk rings. “Sir? Yes, right away.” Hanging up, she says to us, “Mr. Dohrmann will see you now.”
Angela gets up and walks to the door. I stand more slowly, not nearly as anxious as she is to meet with Brian again.
To the left of the door is a photograph of Brian. I glance at it, then stop. Stepping back, I look at it more closely. In this photograph, he’s d
