Stephanie Bond - Manhunting in Mississippi

“I’m a simple man—I like my coffee black and strong.” Bentley lifted his cup and took a deep swallow. “This is actually quite good.”

Calmer now, Piper pointed toward the corner of the lab where a white rectangular table sat surrounded by six sterile-looking chairs. Her foot was beginning to throb and she needed to rest before pulling out the mixing bowls. “Let’s sit and discuss the finished product.”

Piper approached a set of tall file cabinets, opened a drawer, walked her fingers across tabs, then withdrew the thick folder she’d compiled on the Bentley Group. Slowly she made her way over to the table and stood awkwardly, shifting good foot to injured foot and back, waiting for Mr. Bentley to sit so she could situate herself as far away from him as politely possible. But he pulled out a chair for her on one side and she felt obliged to take it. Alarm struck her when he tugged on the chair directly next to her, but he simply smiled and indicated the seat with a nod.

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