“Someone who has access to my personal study,” Ryker said, his voice dangerously calm.

“And Marco has a suspect in the holding room right now.”

Before I could ask another question, the satellite phone in his hand began to ring.

Ryker pressed the button to accept the call.

He did not put the phone to his ear this time.

He pressed the speaker button, his thumb dark against the plastic casing.

The static of the satellite connection filled the small wood-walled room.

Outside, the wind brushed the heavy pine branches against the cabin roof.

“Speak,” Ryker said.

Marco’s voice came through, thin and metallic, filtered by thousands of miles of atmosphere.

“It was Thomas,” Marco said.

Ryker did not blink.

His hand stayed perfectly still on the wooden table.

“Thomas,” Ryker repeated, his voice flat.

“He had the keycard copy,” Marco said. “The one we registered to the housekeeping staff last winter.”

I looked over at the small cot in the corner of the room.

Lily was asleep, her small face pale against the rough wool of the green blanket.