I deleted the message without opening the attachment and stepped aboard the waiting train.

The elevator doors opened onto the ground floor, and the hushed brass of the lobby gave way to the autumn air beyond the heavy double glass doors.

Leaves from the tall sugar maples were falling across the slate patio as I stepped into the courtyard.

Spencer stood three yards from the stone entrance steps, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, watching the traffic in the street.

Rosalind stood by the back door of her dark town car, talking in low, rapid sentences to a gray-haired man with a leather briefcase.