"Good news, Philadelphia! Unless there's a big, bad, lurking booby trap out there somewhere, we did it. We survived Y2K! What've you got planned for 2000? Call me with your New Year's. . ."
John Quinn reached for the ignition key and turned off the car engine, cutting the DJ off in mid-sentence. New Year's resolutions? All he wanted was to get through the next half hour.
His ergonomically-correct desk chair, inherited from his predecessor, creaked under his lean six-foot-one frame when he reached sideways for the ringing phone. Indexing his place in his report with his finger, John Quinn made a mental note to order a new chair. "University police. Chief Quinn speaking."
Lizzie frowned down at the sticky honey she had spotted on the sleeve of her blue terry cloth robe. When she made a mess, she made a mess. "Quinn, hold on one more second," she said into the phone and reached for another paper towel.
She wet the towel in the sink and dabbed at her sleeve and then at the belt of her robe. A bird fluttered past the kitchen window, drawing her glance to the bright April morning outside.
Lizzie frowned at her computer screen. She had entered the telephone number displayed on her caller ID into the reverse directory. The name and address for that telephone number was there in front of her:
Nadine Collins
710 Parkview Drive
Gallagher, Virginia
Wade,
I was going to call, but I thought it would be easier to put this down on paper. Help me think it through while I’m writing it. . . .
First, I want to think you for the job offer. Director of Toronto, Canada Headquarters of Garner Security is damn impressive. And you know I’ve been giving it a lot of serious thought.
