Chapter Seven
Samantha Wears a Collar
The trim, neatly-dressed girl stepped out of the cab and looked up at the imposing Brownstone. Slipping the folded note out of her purse, she checked the address one last time. She took a breath, squared her narrow shoulders, and strode purposely to the front door, the heels of her pumps clicking on the stone steps.
The man who opened the door was not too tall; probably in his forties. His white dress shirt was open at the neck, and he looked young and fit in a pair of straight denim jeans. Spare in frame, with thinning hair and neatly trimmed beard, he looked at her with eyes that were gray and questioning.
She saw his eyes take her in as she stood there in his doorway: a pretty girl, smartly dressed in a chocolate turtleneck sweater, tailored fa
