The metallic click sounded incredibly loud in the quiet room.

“I need a lawyer,” Ethan said.

“A real one.”

“You should call one,” Arthur said.

“But do it from a payphone or a burner.”

“Because once those agents walk in, every line connected to you is going to be tapped.”

Ethan stood in the center of the room, looking at the door.

He seemed to have forgotten how to walk.

His hand hovered over his chest, as if he were checking his heartbeat.

I stood up.

I picked up my leather purse and smoothed the skirt of my grey suit.

“Where are you going?” Ethan asked, his voice rising in panic.

“Home,” I said.

“To pack your bags.”

“No,” I said.

“To change the locks.”

He took a step toward me, but Arthur stood up again, placing himself between us.

“Don’t, Ethan,” Arthur said.

“You have enough problems today.”

Ethan looked at Arthur, then at me.

He let out a short, bitter laugh.

“You planned this,” he said to me.

“You and Arthur.”

“Arthur knew nothing,” I said.

That was the truth.