David stared at the letter without seeing it. “David, will you talk to Ashley?” David nodded.
“Yes, of course I’ll talk to her, but—” Dr. Patterson rose. “Thank you.” David watched him walk out the door.
“Why did you quit and go into corporate law?” Because I made a mistake, and an innocent woman I loved is dead.
I swore I would never take anyone’s life in my hands again. Ever. I can’t defend Ashley Patterson.
David pressed down the intercom button. “Holly, would you ask Mr. Kincaid if he can see me now?” “Yes, sir.”
Thirty minutes later, David was walking into the elaborate offices of Joseph Kincaid.
Kincaid was in his sixties, a gray monochrome of a man, physically, mentally and emotionally.
“Well,” he said as David walked in the door, “you’re an anxious young fellow, aren’t you?
Our meeting wasn’t supposed to be until five o’clock.” David approached the desk.
“I know. I came here to discuss something else, Joseph.” Years ago, David had made the mistake of calling him Joe,
and the old man had had a fit. “Don’t you ever call me Joe.” “Sit down, David.” David took a seat.
“Cigar? They’re from Cuba.” “No, thanks.” “What’s on your mind?”
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