“No time,” he said, checking his watch. “I have an early meeting with the marketing team.”

“I have to go into the city early too,” I said.

He looked up, a slight frown crossing his forehead.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“I’m meeting an old friend for breakfast,” I said.

He didn’t question it.

He kissed my cheek, his cologne sharp and familiar.

“Have a good day,” he said.

“You too, Ethan,” I replied.

I watched his car pull out of the driveway.

Then, I went upstairs, retrieved the black binder, and drove to the city.

The rain was coming down harder now, smearing the windshield of my car.

The corporate office of Lawson Vance Consulting occupied the top three floors of a glass tower downtown.

I parked in the underground garage.

The elevator ride to the executive floor was silent and fast.

The doors opened to a lobby of polished marble and dark wood.

The receptionist looked up, surprised to see me.

“Good morning, Mrs. Lawson,” she said. “Are you here to see Mr. Lawson?”

“No,” I said. “I am here to see Arthur Vance.”