Where do we go from here?
ABOUT A MONTH after the trials were over the cell phone woke me again, early one Friday morning. I glanced at the caller ID and grimaced.
“Did you forget something, Gino?”
“Yeah, I know, Rick, you resigned. But I didn’t want to let this wait any longer. I talked to a friend of mine over in Baltimore last week, Jill Kincaid—with the FBI. She has a story she wants to tell someone.”
“Well, not anymore, but she has a story that needs to be told.”
“Hmmm. . .”
“I told her about you, and she wants to talk to you. I’ll send you her phone number and email address.”
“Okay, if she’s a friend of yours, I’ll talk to her”
“I think you’ll be glad you did.”
I didn’t tell Gino, but Jill Kincaid hadn’t waited. She had tracked me down a week earlier and we already had an appointment for the coming Monday to discuss my next book Crenshaw’s Dilemma.