I swiped to answer.

“Ava,” a voice said.

It was faint, drowned out by background noise that sounded like wind and traffic.

“Elias?” I asked.

“I’m outside,” he said.

I stood up and walked to the window.

I looked down at the street below.

A black Mercedes was parked, idling by the curb.

A man was standing next to it, his coat collar turned up against the rain.

He was looking up at our third-floor windows.

“What are you doing here, Elias?” I asked.

“They locked me out,” he said.

His voice was flat, devoid of the panic from earlier.

It sounded like he had simply run out of energy.

“The board took my security badge,” he said. “My email is disabled.”

“You shouldn’t have come to Boston,” I said.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he said. “Everyone is watching the apartment in New York.”

“I can’t help you,” I said.

“Please, Ava,” he said. “Just five minutes.”

I looked at Sarah.

She was watching me, her expression neutral but alert.

“Don’t do it,” she whispered.

I looked back down at the street.