Dying Scream
“He didn’t like the text. It was sloppy and wordy.He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Plus she was too fat for his tastes. She didn’t have a spark and she wasn’t quick on her feet. Basically, she was no Kendall Shaw.Kendall. He got pissed every time he thought about her. He’d offered her everything and she’d turned him down flat to open that damn PR firm and marry that cop. Ungrateful bitch. Whore.A hard, frantic rap on his door had him looking up sharply. Standing in his doorway was ...a rumpled old man who smelled of dust and age and looked like he’d been plucked out of the stacks of a dusty library.“Who the hell are you?” Brett asked.“Dr. Cyril Heckman.”“How’d you get in here?”Dr. Heckman eased into his office and closed the door. “I snuck in.”Brett rose, lifting the phone receiver as he did. “I’m calling security.”“No, don’t. I have a great story for you.”Brett started to dial. “I doubt that.”“Have you heard of Adrianna Barrington?MoreLess
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