CHAPTER FOUR
A team of security guards surrounded Harley and Callaway as they followed the governor’s aide down the carpeted hall, which was lined with marble busts whose faces Harley did not recognize. Staring at the obvious signs of opulence, Harley had a hard time reconciling her surroundings with Ballard’s campaign promise of embodying the role of a “public servant.”
If this is how a servant lives, she thought, what does that make the homeless?
The aide, a small and trim man with an erect posture, led them to a wall of intricate wood paneling. Had there not been a protruding glass knob, Harley would not have realized there was a door.
The aide nodded at one of the security guards—a grizzled man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a nose that appeared to have been broken and never set
