Lucy glanced at her watch. It was nearly half past five. Time for her to be off. She rose to her feet and began gathering up her things. Her purse. Her coat. Her scarf. The files she needed to—
The telephone on her desk started to ring. Every instinct Lucy had warned her that the individual on the other end of the line was one of her brothers. Or maybe one of her uncles, depending on how efficient the Falco grapevine was on this particular evening.
She hesitated for a moment, then made up her mind. “I love you, guys,” she said to the still-ringing phone. “But I’ll talk to you next year.”
She dashed out before she had a chance to relent.
Gulliver’s Travels was located in a small four-story building with a central lobby. The guard behind the security desk—a skinny guy with a mustache—leaped to his feet as she came around the corner, heading toward the main exit.
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