Harry Thomas died alone. Monica, his estranged daughter, never once visited Harry in what was euphemistically called a retirement community after she dumped him in the cheap facility. She didn’t care when the nurse from Peaceful Pines called to tell her Harry had passed away. Not until she received the coroner’s report, that is. Her father had died from homicide by institutional neglect, and with that ruling came the potential for Harry to have done something good in his daughter’s life for once. Monica had immediately called The Law Offices of Everett Stone with thoughts of a large settlement racing through her head.

And now, because of that call, a storm was brewing on the horizon of Everett Stone’s life. A life-altering, once-in-a-century hurricane. He thought he was prepared to weather it. He thought he would come out the other side unscathed. The ocean floor is littered with the bones of sailors who thought the same. 

The cold snapped the post-sleep fog from his mind. Everett didn’t need several cups of coffee each day to get going, like most lawyers. Instead, he drove to the gym and swam in the frigid pool to get his blood flowing and mind working. 

Everett enjoyed the solitude more than the exercise in those pre-dawn hours. He acknowledged he could stand to lose a few pounds when he looked in the mirror, but he was reasonably attractive, even if his abs were not as defined as they once had been.

The pool was his chance to think uninterrupted and to prepare for what would come during the rest of his day in his busy law office in downtown Raleigh. It was where he had his best ideas and could focus on the biggest problems in his cases while hearing nothing but the splashing of his strokes. The early hour he rose each day guaranteed he was alone. 

His morning ritual had grown especially important since filing the Thomas Estate’s wrongful death lawsuit against Peaceful Pines and its owner, Ross Tyndall. It was the biggest case of his career. He was not a famous lawyer by any measure, but in the past decade he had built a reputation as a seasoned and fearless litigator. This case had the potential to make him one of those famous lawyers who get called to be a talking head on cable news. And very rich.

The Big One, as he referred to it around the office, was the case that every trial lawyer dreams of: a sympathetic victim, an evil villain, and an atrocity that would provoke an enormous verdict. 

The more he thought about the Thomas case, the more inspired he became and he took his energy out in the water. His strokes quickened and the time it took him to complete his daily two mile swim shortened. This was the case he had gone to law school for. This was the case where he stood to do some actual good rather than just collecting insurance money for people with whiplash.

Everett’s black trunks clung to his body as he climbed out of the pool and began drying himself. Once in the empty locker room, he stripped off the trunks and tossed them in his bag with one hand before heading to the shower. 

The after-swim shower was almost as important to Everett as the swim itself. This is where he could clear his mind, alone in the large, tiled room, while the steamy water washed away his thoughts. 

After he was done, Everett took care in putting on his suit and checking to make sure his tie and hair were just right. He walked out of the gym and into the parking lot.

 Everett climbed into his Lexus GX and turned on NPR, ready for the day’s headlines. The news out of Washington had him cussing under his breath before he put the SUV into gear. 

As he drove away, he never noticed the man watching him from a car parked in the back of the dark lot.