Breakwater Read Online Free PDF Page A

summer, she picked ten mountains to climb.
    “Any luck finding your friend?”
    Quinn sighed heavily, suddenly tired. “Afraid not. Nothing new?”
    “I’m sorry, no.”
    Alicia had stopped by the Society first, apparently not as agitated as she was by the time she’d arrived at the coffee shop. Thelma thought nothing of telling her that Quinn was just down the street, but she’d already apologized for not having paid closer attention to Alicia’s frazzled emotional state.
    “Did she go up to my office?” Quinn asked. “I wonder if she might have left a note, anything that could help-”
    “She didn’t go any farther than where you’re standing right now. I almost didn’t recognize her. I’ve only met her once. She hasn’t seen your new office, has she?”
    “No. We haven’t been that close lately.”
    Thelma’s eyebrows arched, but she kept whatever questions she had about the friendship between the two younger women to herself. She leaned forward, glancing toward the stairs. “You have company. He got here about ten minutes ago. He said he’d wait for you. I don’t know how he has time-”
    “Who, Thelma?”
    She made a face. “Deputy Assistant Attorney General Lattimore.”
    “What? You didn’t let him into my office, did you? All I need is for him to catch me cleaning out files on buffalo bones-he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
    “Relax. He’s in the library.” Thelma lowered her voice. “He’s even better looking in person than he is on television. If I liked lawyers…”
    Quinn tried to smile. “Thelma, you are so bad. I’ll go see what he wants.”
    Resisting the urge to run up the stairs, Quinn contemplated what she would say to Lattimore. Steve wouldn’t have told him about Alicia, but Gerard Lattimore was the type-alert, always waiting for the next shoe to drop-to have guessed.
    She found her former boss in a high-back leather chair in front of the massive stone fireplace in the walnut-paneled library at the top of the stairs. He looked as if he belonged there.
    “All you need are a pipe and slippers,” Quinn said.
    He didn’t smile as he rose, studying her. He had on an expensive dark gray suit and looked every inch the high-powered Department of Justice official he was, but Quinn could see the strain in his eyes. Although he was only forty-two, he seemed ten years older this afternoon. He was the newly divorced father of three preteens and a talented attorney with awesome responsibilities. On most days, he had the ego, ability and ambition to meet all his obligations.
    He took her hand. “It’s good to see you, Quinn.”
    She reminded herself that he didn’t have to be there because of Alicia. It could be anything. She let her hand fall back to her side. “Mr. Lattimore-”
    “Gerard. No more formalities.” He glanced around the old library, largely unchanged since the late nineteenth century. “What a great room this is. This whole building is like stepping into a simpler past.”
    “I’m not sure it was that simple. We do tend to run into the errant skull around here.”
    He laughed stiffly. “Museum-quality animal skulls only, I hope.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Ah, Quinn. We miss you in the department.”
    “Thanks. I’d hate to have spent three years there and not be missed. I can just hear it: ‘Harlowe? Not a minute too soon did she get her arse out of here.’” But when she saw that her stab at humor only elicited a tense smile from him and realized how awkward and phony the banter felt, she gave it up. “What can I do for you?”
    His gray eyes settled on her. “Alicia Miller.”
    Quinn licked her lips. “What about her?”
    “I’m worried about her. She spent the weekend at your cottage in Yorkville. She didn’t come in today. She didn’t call in sick. Steve Eisenhardt-you’ve met him, haven’t you? He says he tried to reach her on her cell phone, but she hasn’t answered or returned his calls.” He studied her a moment.