He struck the wood with his fist, once, twice.

The coffee cup fell from his hand and shattered on the steps.

He turned around, looking at the empty driveway, then up at the security camera.

He knew I was watching.

He stared directly into the lens, his eyes wide and frantic.

His phone began to ring again, the screen lighting up his palm.

I touched the screen of my tablet, closing the security feed.

The room went quiet again.

“What are you going to do now, Claire?” Evelyn asked, turning to face me.

“I am going to have lunch,” I said.

I stood up, picked up my coat, and walked toward the door.

As I opened it, the paralegal ran past me, her arms full of folders.

“Ms. Price!” she called out.

“The SEC is on line one.”

“And the Miami Herald is on line two.”

I stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door open behind me.

I walked down the steps of the office building and into the heavy Miami heat.

The air smelled of salt, hot asphalt, and exhaust fumes.