Page 6 of A Walking Shadow

“Yeah. I picked up a case for Daniel yesterday.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you don’t have the bandwidth for that.”

“I don’t. But it’s Daniel. Besides, you gave me a brilliant idea.”

“That sounds like me. What pearl of wisdom did I bestow upon you?”

“This case is perfect for Ellie. I’ll bring her on to help me with it.” She grinned up at him from under her tangled hair.

“I am brilliant,” he agreed.

She laughed and stretched like a cat. Then he caught her eyeing the coffee he’d brought her over an hour ago.

“Don’t drink that,” he warned. “It’s gonna be lukewarm.”

“I need it.” She picked it up, took a cautious sip, and grimaced. “Why is room-temperature coffee so bad?”

He snatched it from her. “Go start the shower. I’ll bring you a fresh mug.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve so much more,” he corrected her. Then he planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Now go.”

She pulled herself from the bed and he gave her a gentle push in the direction of their bathroom. He watched her go and considered stopping her and pushing her to tell him what was wrong. Because something was wrong. But he understood her well enough after all these years to know the harder he pushed, the more she’d pull back. She’d talk to him when she was ready. Until then, he’d keep her fed, loved, and caffeinated.

Sasha stoodbeneath the stream of hot water, clutching a stainless steel travel mug of coffee in her hand. Shower coffee was a new low even for her, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was tired, just as she’d told Connelly,but she wasn’tjusttired—she was more than tired. This was a bone-deep weariness she hadn’t been able to shake for months.

For her entire professional career, she had bounded from bed, if not bright-eyed and bushy tailed, always eager and ready to face her workday. But now, it was as if her brain were wrapped in cotton and her limbs were encased in cement. Getting herself moving physically and mentally was becoming harder every day.

In fact, last night’s scare in the office had been surprisingly comforting. The fear that gripped her when the lights came on in the hall had been the first real spark of energy she’d felt in a long time, and she was gratified that her instinct had been to spring into action rather than to freeze. Not that it mattered, not really. As terrified as she’d been in the moment, she realized the whole thing had almost certainly been a glitch—a problem with the sensitivity setting on the sensor, most likely. She added checking the sensors to her endless mental to-do list, right under getting new shoes for Finn, whose feet were growing at a disconcerting speed.

As she washed and rinsed her hair, she fantasized about checking into some obscure bed-and-breakfast in a European village where she didn’t speak the language and sleeping until mid-morning, then moving into a garden or a pool chair and reading and resting all afternoon. This fantasy filled her with guilt because her husband and her children played no role in it. As if on cue, her phone chirped on the ledge outside the shower to remind her that her law firm—the firm she’d built from nothing, the one that bore her name—was also not in it.

She turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy bathroom to dry her hair. Then she dressed quickly and swiped a berry-colored lipstick over her mouth. As she stepped into her favorite tan pumps, she promised herself she’d spend some more time digging into what was bothering her. She needed toshake things up, but for the first time in her life, she was at a loss as to how to take action or what action to even take.

But introspection and reflection would have to wait. She needed to get into the office, review her notes on Daniel’s case, and bring Ellie up to speed. That was the thing about handling other people’s problems for a career: it gave her precious little time to deal with her own.

She headed down the stairs with Java winding around her ankles and meowing. At the bottom, she was greeted by Mocha, whose tail thumped excitedly against the hardwood. She bent and gave the cat and the dog each a scratch between the ears before continuing on to the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine; morning, firecracker.” She dropped a kiss on each of her twins’ damp heads, then smoothed Finn’s cowlick.

“Dad already tried to make it lay down,” he protested.

“It’s a losing battle,” Connelly agreed from the stove where he was flipping pancakes.

“Pancakes? Nice.”

“Blueberry pancakes,” Fiona corrected her. “Whole-wheat blueberry pancakes, Mom, for protein and to give us energy throughout the day.” She took the travel mug from Sasha’s hands and refilled it with all the efficiency of a miniature barista. “Here,” she said.

“Thanks, darling.”

“Mom, sit down,” Finn said. “Rest.”

She shot her husband a look.

He shrugged. “They’re worried about you. We’reallworried about you.”

He balanced an entirely too-high stack of pancakes on a platter and carried it over to the kitchen table.

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