One of the other agents stepped forward, producing a pair of steel handcuffs.

Daniel took a step backward, his back pressing against the wooden wall of the elevator car.

“Do not touch me,” Daniel said.

“Do not make this difficult, Mr. Hayes,” the agent said.

At that moment, the glass door of the lobby swung open again.

A woman stepped inside, her face shielded by a large black umbrella.

She pulled the umbrella down, revealing her sharp, pale features.

It was Clara Bennett.

She was wearing a cream-colored trench coat, her dark hair immaculate despite the damp wind.

But her usual composure was gone.

Her eyes were wide, darting from the agents to Daniel, and then to me.

“Daniel,” she said, her voice high and tight.

“Clara,” Daniel said.

He looked at her, and I saw a flicker of something new in his eyes.

It was not fear.

It was calculation.

“What is going on here?” Clara asked, stepping toward him. “The news is everywhere. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing.”

“They have the recording, Clara,” Daniel said.

He spoke clearly, making sure the agents could hear every word.