She didn’t make a habit of reading other people’s mail, and when she did, she usually had a signed warrant enabling and entitling her to do so. To read a co-worker’s private correspondence was as far removed from that as it was possible to get. Nevertheless, Hillary was used to relying on her gut. In her job you used everything you had – intelligence, experience, luck, grim determination, the lot. Right now, her instinct was screaming at her that Janine Tyler was in some sort of trouble. And Janine Tyler, until the end of next week at least, was her responsibility. Gingerly she turned the piece of paper over and unfolded it. As she did so, it fleetingly occurred to her that she could have read the signals wrong. What if Janine was having an affair? What if she’d been acting like a cat on hot bricks because she was scared Hillary or Mel would find out? What if this was a bloody love letter, for Pete’s sake? Inside, Hillary began to squirm, and before she could talk herself out of it she opened the paper fully out and gave it a quick glance.
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