They followed him back into the registrar hall for no other reason than suspicious curiosity.
Through the marble counters that stretched across the room, filing clerks sat behind brass-rimmed windows, each encased in old bulletproof glass that had likely seen better years.
For a moment, they lost him, but when they turned toward the exit, both women slowed instinctively. He was still here.
Adam Scotland stood near the central filing clerk's window, casually leaning on the partition with the kind of effortless entitlement only money and unearned charm could manufacture.
Unfortunately for them, his suit was too elegant for them to insult. It was grey and perfectly fitted, the fabric cutting sharp lines around his tall frame.
"What do you want to do?" Sandy asked Amelia.
The secretary of investments smacked her lips, thinking. "Well, he could be here for many reasons."
"But it doesn't matter right?"
