She finally looked him square in the eye and said, "I don't care how straight you turn, Fernando. If you lay one finger on my adopted daughter, I will...have you shot just for starters."There was a whole new tone in her voice, and the steel to back it up, that shut Fernando down like a blown fuse on an air conditioner. He stopped so fast, I wouldn't be surprised if there were skid marks under his Italian loafers.'My ADOTPTED Daughter?' Really? When was I adopted and by whom?Polly didn't keep me. ''I don't drink, but thanks for the thought,' Stephen said.'Oh - the drugs. Right.'Not exactly, but close, Stephen thought. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' hesaid.'Yeah,' Marsh nodded. 'Good night.'***The report they'd assembled hit all the right buttons and they had alazy Friday generally, compensating for the week of hell. And Stephenspent a typically quiet weekend: laundry, the monthly shop, a couple ofhours on the rowing machine, and evenings watching DVDs. Hopefully theoffice would settle down. More

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