rings.
âHey, babe, how yâ doinâ?â
âDon!â She is relieved itâs not a client. âHow are things?â
âGood. Just giving my grad students hell. You know, the usual.â
âIâm sure they love you.â
âWell, I wouldnât say that, but Iâm perfectly happy living in denial. Anyway, I found some interesting material on that piece you asked me aboutâthe Goldberg Variations. â
âYeah?â
âSupposedly, a man named Count Keyserlingk commissioned it from Bach in the early 1740s. He was an insomniac who wanted a musical soporific. So Bach wrote this pieceâa theme and variationsâand the count had his musician-in-service, Johann Goldberg, play it for him at all hours of the night.â He pauses for a moment, then adds: âAnd I thought getting tenure sucked.â
âInsomnia,â she echoes.
âYep.â
âDid it work?â
âDid it work?â he says, surprised by the question. âI donât know. Itâs a pretty long piece; maybe it bored him to sleep.â He laughs.
âI mean, is there any record of the countâs response to it?â
âNot that I know of, but I only did a preliminary search.â
âCan you find out if there is more to the story?â
âSure, I can talk to a few people, check a few sourcesââ
âThat would be great, Don. Iâd really appreciate it.â
He pauses, then asks, âSo when are you going to let me in on the secret? You said this has to do with a case youâre working on. How so?â
She sighs. âWhere to startâ¦â
âHow about âOnce upon a timeâ?â
âAll rightâ¦.â
Â
For the next two hours, Samantha works halfheartedly on three cases and watches the phone, once again waiting for Frank to call. She begins a will for one of her HIV clients, but now Catherineâs face looks back at her from the computer screen. Samanthaâs head starts to pound. She turns away from the screen, closing her eyes for a moment, then decides to step outside.
A mist has settled over the parking lot, and a cold wind pinches her cheeks. Samantha wonât be able to stay long without her jacket, which she left dangling on the kitchen chair in a rush to leave for work. She lingers, hoping the cool air will ease her headache. Is this a side effect of the treatment? she wonders.
A sudden pain pierces her ears and temples, as if she were descending too fast in a plane with poor cabin pressure. Everything becomes white.
Â
Two red eyes glow in the darkness. No, they are not eyes, she thinks, but doors. Crimson doors. She walks toward them slowly, then climbs a few steps leading to an enclosed porch. Something is waiting in the corner. She can hear it breathing.
The figure steps toward her.
She lifts her arm instinctively, as if a gesture might stop him, and she sees a knife in her own hand.
He takes another step.
She doesnât wait for him to get any closer before lunging at him with the blade.
Â
âSam? Samantha!â The legal clinicâs director crouches above her with one knee on the ground. She places her right hand on Samanthaâs cheek. âWhat happened?â
âI must have faintedâ¦.â She blinks several times.
Julie looks doubtful as she helps Samantha stand. Julieâs usual composure and professionalism have been replaced by fear. Helplessness. Thick and powerful, Julie can usually handle board meetings, conference calls, belligerent clients, and disgruntled lawyers. But seeing a friend lying unconscious on the ground rattles her.
âMaybe you should see a doctor. Let me drive you.â
âNo, really. Iâm all right.â
âYour cases can wait. Iâm taking you to a doctor, for Christâs sake.â The assertiveness returns. She takes hold of Samanthaâs left arm.
âLet me come inside and sit down for
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