“Now what?”
Sabrina stared at Samantha, worried about her beaten expression.
“I don’t know,” she finally answered, sounding as weary as Sabrina felt.
“We need to do . . . something,” Sabrina protested, resisting the urge to pound her fists against the desktop.
“I know,” Samantha agreed, breathing a quiet sigh. “I know.”
Resting her head in her hands, she stared downward, away from the screen. After several seconds, she looked back up at Sabrina.
“Do you even know where to begin?”
“What do you mean?”
Samantha looked tired, but desperately trying to rally herself. “If he were going to go after someone,” she said. “Do you have any clue who they might be?”
Sabrina sank slowly back into her chair, thinking about that, trying to put names to all of the times when he might have expressed outrage or anger toward someone
This should not be that hard, she thought.
It had, in fact, been rare for him to express any of those kinds of emotions. He tended to keep them under extremely tight control. Not Vulcan-like, she acknowledged, but still to a degree that she seldom witnessed among any of her other acquaintances.
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