11
“You have a visitor,” Simon announced as he appeared in the doorway to Denver’s office.
“I thought I didn’t have any meetings this afternoon.” Denver scrolled through his phone calendar, double-checking.
“He’s not on the schedule, I’m afraid,” Simon answered carefully, and Denver recognized immediately that he wasn’t about to like whoever came through his door.
Simon stepped back, and a man entered the office. Every muscle went rigid in Denver’s body, and his bones creaked as he moved a mere inch away from his desk before freezing. Paul Ashworth stood in the doorway to his office. He looked older than Denver remembered. Fifteen years had been enough time to deepen the fine lines that bracketed Paul’s eyes and mouth and to streak his hair with gray. Denver started to tell him to go t
