“It’s a sensitive case,” Mark Radcliffe said.
Eugene Peters watched the senior deputy district attorney get up from his long mahogany desk and go to the window.
“We don’t want anyone saying Multnomah County doesn’t care if an occasional church burns down.” He gazed thoughtfully over the park below, as if looking down from Mount Olympus at the curious activities of the mortals.
It was a habit that annoyed the hell out of Eugene, and the fact that it annoyed him so badly annoyed him even more. Who cared, after all, if Mark had the best view in the building, if he used it to punctuate his conversations, if he opened the vertical blinds just enough that supplicants in his office got barely a glimpse of pearl-gray sky?