Flashback

to have to start digging through Marion’s senatorial records, to see if there was anyone she’d somehow mortally offended there.
She worked through the late afternoon, only stopping to order a sandwich she could eat on the side when the protesting growls of her empty stomach became annoyingly distracting.
After it arrived she settled back in the chair and began again, pausing for bites of food now and then. In between names, while awaiting results that would tell her whether to add that person to the possibles list—if they’d been in jail and were still in jail it was easier—she continued to go through Eric’s personal notes on the murder case.
She smiled at one entry that read, “Ayers says Gracelyn was hell on wheels. From his tone, I think she must have run over him in court once or twice.”
The computer beeped. Alex looked up to see the dialog box indicating another search completed. This one was still in prison at Yuma, so she put him on the “unlikely” list. She input the next name, took a bite of her meat loaf sandwich, then went back to the notes.
She turned the next page. A big “?” scrawled on the back caught her eye.
The replica of the spider web he’d drawn below it caught her breath.
She scanned the rest of the notes quickly, but saw no mention or explanation of the image. She glanced at her watch, decided it wasn’t too late, got up and went to her satchel to dig out Eric’s phone number. She picked up the room phone and dialed.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah, I remember that spider thing,” he said when she asked about the drawing. “It kept popping up on papers and stuff of hers we were going through. I could never tie it to anything, though.”
“No pattern to what you found it on?”
“Nope. If I remember right, it was on the corner of a newspaper or magazine or something, then on a bank statement, and on the back of a bill of some kind where there were other notes.”
Alex stifled a sigh. If she only knew if it was connected, she could either pursue it or not waste the time. Not that she had the slightest idea how to ferret out the meaning of the cryptic symbol Marion had repeated so often.
“Anything I can do to help?” Eric offered.
She almost asked how fast he could type names in a form, but held back.
“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know. Thanks, Eric.”
She’d barely replaced the receiver when the phone beneath her hand rang. Considering who knew she was here, she picked it up quickly, hoping it might be G.C.
“Hello?”
“Your line was busy.”
The male voice was instantly familiar, but the words got her back up almost as quickly.
“I was working, Justin.”
There was a pause before he said mildly, “It wasn’t an accusation. Just letting you know in case it wasn’t you on the phone, all things considered.”
“Oh.” She felt more than a little sheepish. “Sorry.”
“That’s not me, Alex. I’ll never try to own you.”
Sometimes he was downright disconcerting with his razor-sharp perceptiveness. She didn’t know what to say to that, so, perhaps wisely, she kept silent.
“You sound harried. Overloaded?”
“A bit. But I knew this was going to be a big undertaking. Marion affected a lot of people during her career. I’ve only tackled the ones as prosecutor and I’ve got over thirty names.”
“Want me to check the senatorial records while I’m still here?”
The offer was beyond tempting; it would really give her a leg up, because even if something turned up in this batch of names, she couldn’t be sure that was the final answer. Angry suspects threatened a lot, but actually carried out the threats much less often.
“It would be a big job,” she said, hedging a little.
“I figured that. But I’m here now. And although I’d much rather be there, with you, I’m guessing that the sooner you have your answers, the better for the man who wants you all to himself for a while.”
There wasn’t a change in his voice, it didn’t slip into that husky register that made her toes curl, but there was something about the pure and simple intensity of them that told her things were about to change. Or maybe it was just that her own outlook had changed, and she was hearing him through that filter now.
Whichever it was, she had a feeling it didn’t matter. The result was going to be the same.
“Yes,” she said. “I’d like you to do that.”
She heard him take in a quick breath, and knew he hadn’t missed the message beneath the words.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, and hung up so quickly it left her a little breathless.
Or perhaps it was the thought of what she’d just done.
She needed air.
And space.
And no people.
She picked up the phone and made another call. Spoke briefly to Christine, who laughed and gave her the okay for her plan.
Only hard-won discipline made her slow herself down and do things methodically. She shut down, packed up and secured her laptop, locked all the paperwork in the room safe and double-checked the balcony slider. Then she quickly changed into jeans and a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt and the boots she’d brought for just this purpose. She grabbed her bag, made sure there was a full water bottle in it, and lastly set up her usual intruder-warning signs.
And then she was out and on her way. Heading for a place where she could always clear her head. The place that had made her what she was, who she was.
She was going home to Athena.
Charm nickered a greeting.
Alex was always surprised when the mare actually remembered her, she saw her so infrequently. But then again, the gray was her own beloved Lacy’s granddaughter, and anything was possible. Regardless, the greeting was definite and welcoming, as was the nudging of her shoulder when she stopped rubbing under the jaw too soon for the mare’s taste.
“I know you’ve had a