As soon as he ended the call, she tried again. “I need Channing. But even with her assistance, I think we should slow things down.”
Her words tumbled out, gasps between each phrase. She inhaled, geared down her delivery.
“I need to finish my fact-checking in your case. It’s urgent that I talk to one of Trevor Bryant’s co-defendants again.”
Channing slipped into the room, settled gracefully onto the padded guest chair, and smoothed the wrinkles from her tasteful linen skirt, one shade darker than her lilac-colored blouse. Blonde hair twisted into a smooth chignon that added two inches to her six-foot height, her elegance was an eye-popping contrast to her colleagues’ tousled locks and sloppy apparel.
She tilted her head toward Nora, encouraging her to finish her plea.
Nora giggled, amu
