Page 7 of Corrupted By Sin

Brook had purposefully chosen an executive office right off the open foyer due to its location. She wasn’t one for surprises, which was why she preferred to observe the comings and goings of individuals from the elevator bank. The modern décor of their offices had been intentional. The glass structures allowed for the easy monitoring of others.

It didn’t take her long to change out of her winter boots in exchange for her favorite pair of heels. She hung the straps of her purse and leather bag on the antique coatrack in the corner. She’d removed a couple of folders, her phone, and her electronic tablet before placing all the items on her desk.

Bit had set the overhead lights on a timer, so there was no need to walk the perimeter and flip numerous switches on the walls. She was able to settle in her chair and reach for the remote in record time.

The fifty-five-inch screen television came to life. It had already been tuned into her favorite national news channel, but she wasn’t interested in those stories today.

She was more intrigued by the local news.

The ringing of her cell phone stopped her from perusing the four main local channels. Brook literally experienced her heart flutter at the sound, and she didn’t appreciate the betrayal. There hadn’t been one day in her adult life that she hadn’t been in control of her emotions. She’d like to keep it that way, but General Graham Elliott wasn’t making such an endeavor easy to achieve as of late.

“Good morning,” Brook greeted after clearing her throat. She’d made sure to do so before answering, with the strict objective that he wouldn’t hear the hitch in her voice. “You didn’t have to call me back. I was just keeping you in the loop since this is almost certainly going to be our first pro bono case.”

Brook had purposefully sent a text to Graham an hour ago, knowing full well that he was currently in California. It was technically in the middle of the night where he was staying, and she’d thought for sure that he would be asleep. While he’d retired after thirty years serving in the Marine Corps, the government hadn’t been eager to cut ties completely.

Graham had been a senior Marine officer commanding the Marine Raider Battalions, the Corps’ next-level contribution to the joint nature of Special Operations Command. A highly skilled group of Marines a cut above the regular Marine forces. A group that took theArt of Warto be their operational center piece. They were an intelligent yet brutally efficient organization. Their reputation among other special operators was topnotch.

Of course, the sentiment to not cut ties went the other way, as well.

Graham currently worked as a government contractor. His travel itinerary of late had given her some breathing room after he’d made his personal intentions clear.

“Good morning.” Graham’s rich voice traveled across the line. It was way too early in the morning for her to be dealing with him. “I was just wondering where you’ll be headed for this new case. Midwest? South?”

“Actually, right here in the city,” Brook responded as she perused the line of captions across the television screen. “I won’t bore you with the details, but it involves an ICU nurse at one of our local hospitals. We’ve talked before about taking pro bono cases, but that was before…well, before business dried up.”

Brook didn’t need to go into depth regarding the reason why potential clients hadn’t been knocking on their door. Very few clients would understand her close, personal link to an active serial killer. It seemed no one wanted to invite that kind of trouble to their front door.

Thankfully, an investigation a couple of months ago had changed their trajectory. They now had enough funds to see them through the following year, and there were more prospective clients on the horizon.

As a matter of fact, Kate had been fielding quite a few calls recently for their services. It had certainly been a nice change of pace.

“Well, let me know if you need anything. I’m slated to return home on Monday if the weather cooperates.”

Graham fell silent, allowing her to take the lead.

They’d had lunch twice where business wasn’t discussed, and it had been quite an adjustment for her. They were both adults, but both of them were aware that any deviation away from the current status of their professional relationship could very well blow up in their faces. When she needed to scratch an itch, it was usually with someone who had the same agenda—no expectations and no commitments. She would have considered such an arrangement with Graham, but he’d made no secret that he desired more from her.

Brook wasn’t sure she had anything else to give, but damn if the temptation to try wasn’t there. It wasn’t that he didn’t know about her unhealthy baggage, her emotional scars, or the fact that she had a brother who was a psychotic serial killer. One of those should have been enough to clue Graham in on the fact that she could never compete with his dead wife. Maybe that was why she’d respected his patience.

“Dinner. Wednesday night. My place at eight.”

Brook didn’t bother to wait for his acceptance speech. She pulled the phone away from her ear. Before she was able to disconnect the line, she thought she’d heard him say his standard goodbye—be safe.

Again, the changes in their relationship weren’t something that she was going to waste time analyzing to the Nth degree. If she gave it too much thought, she might find her fears had been realized in a way that could eventually break her.

Purposefully pushing the thought of dinner with Graham out of her mind as she set her phone down on her desk, she then picked up her caramel macchiato and savored the sweet flavor.

Her morning routine was one of the few vices that she didn’t regret in the least.

Once the caffeine from her favorite beverage invaded her bloodstream, she would then be ready to dive into some research. She’d already conducted a quick search for any online articles related to Dr. David Kolsby. By all accounts, he was a renowned psychiatrist who had made headlines last year by preventing a suicide. There had been other articles and mentions in various medical journals and prestigious sites.

Nothing pointed to the man being a murderer, let alone a serial killer.

The ringing of her cell phone once again interrupted her morning routine.

Brook was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but a quick glance at the display had her taking the call.

“Theo? You’re up early. Is everything okay?”

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