TWENTY EIGHT .

Ryder walked into the Seattle office of Hendrix Attorney at Law and took a step back. His father sat at his desk, tapping the end of a pen in a smooth rhythm. Ryder closed the door behind him, and stood with his hands folded in front of his waist. His father wanted something, but what could it be? He traced his mind, trying to figure out if he had left anything undone, but nothing stuck out. “Hello, sir.”

His father leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “Do you know who Greg McCannon is?”

“He’s a reporter covering the case.”

“What else do you know about him?”

Ryder shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. He just calls us all the time wanting info.”

Mr. Hendrix sat up and folded his hands on the desk. “He’s got some damaging information on us.”

Ryder sat in the chair opposite of his father; he couldn’t move his gaze from him. “How?”

“It will be taken care of. Go to the hotel and spend the day with your wife. The council will bring the information.