Glenn Hutchinson had just hung up the phone when there was a knock at the office door.
"Come in."
Setting down his cell phone, Glenn glanced at the half-open door, catching sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye.
"Flossie Wright's file."
At those lazily-uttered words, a stapled stack of A4 papers was thrown across the room, fluttering in the air like a white butterfly before landing, with a gust of stirred air, onto the desk in front of Glenn.
Glenn's gaze flashed as he glanced at the stack of A4 papers, his eyes slowly scanning over them.
Neat and intact.
Raising an eyebrow, Glenn's gaze swept over them, a chill cutting through the air, "Did she provoke you?"
It's a rare fine day outside. The glow of the setting sun strayed in at an angle from the window, casting a faint outline on the man standing before him, half his figure draped in shadow, his elongated silhouette stretching out behind him at an angle.
Straight, upright, like bamboo.
