The Advocate (The Advocate Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

perfect atmosphere to write the motion she needed for Monday. No phones ringing, no interruptions from clients or delivery persons. Sabre found it difficult to focus, though; she still felt a little uneasy about the cologne and the photo.
    She tried to bury herself in her research and drafting of the motion. As she delved into the legal issues, she forgot all about her concerns until the phone rang. Sabre jumped.
    She took a deep breath and answered the phone, “Law Office.” No one responded. “Hello.” Still silence. “Hello,” she repeated. She hung up the phone and went back to work.
    Ring, ring . . . She picked it up again. “Law Office.” Still not hearing anyone on the line, she hung up the phone. She began gathering up her cases, waiting for the phone to ring again. This time she didn’t answer it. She picked up her files, shut off the lights, and walked to the back door. She stood sideways as she locked the office door, glancing from side to side, and looking over her shoulder. She hurried to her car, each step picking up the pace. She hit the button on her keys to open her trunk and tossed her files into it. As she reached her car door, she heard a rustling across the parking area in the bushes. A shadow moved across the pavement. Her hand shook as she hit the button to unlock her door. She jumped in her car, locked the door, and drove off, skidding as she left the parking lot. Several miles down the freeway, the nervousness in her stomach began to dissipate.

5
     
     
    Sabre could see the sun streaming in through the window. It promised to be another beautiful day in San Diego. No time to waste on negative thoughts. She leaned over, opened the drawer in her nightstand, pulled out the little tattered notebook, and commenced reading through her list. She felt good about her life, in spite of the struggles she had encountered along the way. It had been a long, hard road, but she had finally made it. The majority of her dreams had been accomplished. College had been tough, working two jobs and attending school full time, and law school even tougher, especially the last year without Ron, but things seemed easier now.
    She picked up a pencil and read from the notebook: Home with an ocean view . She had lived in her first home for a week now, a spacious two-bedroom condo with an office, three bathrooms, an ocean view, within walking distance of the beach , or so the ad read. The ocean view was a stretch, but she could see some water from one little corner of her living room window. She checked it off.
    Sabre got up and opened the shade to let in more sun. She dashed downstairs, plugged in the coffee pot, jogged back upstairs, and took her shower while her decaf coffee brewed. She fluffed her dark hair in front of the mirror. It had finally grown almost to shoulder length.
    The smell of the coffee beckoned her to the kitchen. She picked up the cranberry scone she had bought the night before, cut it in half, poured her favorite mug about half full of skim milk, and filled the rest with coffee. She stepped through the sliding glass door to sit on the front porch in the early morning sun. Perusing the newspaper’s headlines, she found nothing but sadness and crime. She saw enough of that at work. She laid the paper down and watched the mourning dove in a nearby magnolia tree.
    As Sabre sipped her coffee, she reflected on her life. Others may not have found it ideal, but she chose this life. She mulled over what she had to do today: several hearings this morning; the trial on a drug baby case this afternoon; and a visit to Jordan Receiving Home to meet with a four-year-old client who had been found sleeping in the bushes in a cemetery and now suffered from post-traumatic-stress syndrome, as evidenced by her total lack of speech. Then to the office to respond to the phone calls, write a couple of letters, and open those two new cases from yesterday . . . a pretty normal day, probably ending about midnight. Putting in