But Grantland didn’t let up. Nudging Will, he lowered his voice and asked, “I hear she left the Bagley folder on your desk.”
Suddenly Will’s stomach clenched, and his blood turned to ice in his veins. Funny how one name could turn on his defenses as easily as flipping a switch could turn on the light. “Burt,” he warned, “don’t even—”
“Such a waste,” Grantland said. He shook his head, but his eyes burned with an inner glow that Will thought almost fanatical. “A young guy like that, just turning his life around, getting shot down in the street like a dog.”
The hand holding Will’s coffee cup squeezed, and the insulated plastic creaked.