CHAPTER 18
Public Life, Private Life
Friday, October 8, 5:23 p.m. . . .
Barton held the phone to his ear, listening to its ring, his anxiety rising as it always did when he made this call. Whether he worried that she wouldn’t answer or that she would, he couldn’t say. Probably both, he thought.
He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the desk, prepared to let the phone ring for a good long time.
Usually she didn’t answer. He’d thought of calling her from a different phone, one with a number she wouldn’t recognize. But that felt to Barton like a dumb, desperate trick. Though he felt sufficiently dumb, he’d wait until he felt really desperate to give that a try.
Which might not be a lot longer, he mused, listening to the ringing, ringing, ...
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