ARIA

The sudden silence in the office was so absolute I could hear the faint, rhythmic ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner.

Barrister George stared at me. He looked as if all the air had been violently sucked out of his lungs. His hand, shaking uncontrollably, fumbled blindly across the polished surface of his mahogany desk until his fingers brushed against a neatly folded white linen handkerchief. He grabbed it and brought it to his face, wiping away the sudden, cold sweat that had broken out across his forehead and upper lip.

He lowered the handkerchief, his sharp eyes searching my unfamiliar features, desperately looking for the...