He kept thinking he would have a revelation regarding the demon’s identity. He was certain that if he thought about the puzzle hard enough, if he looked at it in just the right way, he would figure it out. There were only a handful of possibilities, after all. A lot of people worked at Fresh Start and Pass/Go, but only a few were close to him. And once you eliminated Ray Hapgood and Stef and certainly Simon, there weren’t many candidates left.

But each time he considered a likely suspect, some incongruity or contradictory piece of evidence would intervene to demonstrate he was on the wrong track. The fact remained that no one seemed to be the right choice. His confusion was compounded by his complete failure to understand what his dream about killing Simon Lawrence had to do with anything. The demon’s subterfuge was so labyrinthine he could not unravel it.

He finished the latte and crumpled the empty container. He was running out of ideas and choices. He would have to keep his promise to Nest and subtract himself from the equation.

Dumping the latte container in a trash can, he began walking back to his apartment. He wouldn’t even bother going in to work. He would just pack an overnight bag, call Stef, have her meet him, and walk down to the ferry terminal. Maybe they would go up to Victoria for a few days. Stay at the Empress. Have high tea. Visit the Buchart Gardens. Pretend they were real people.

He was almost to the front door of his apartment building when he heard his name called. He turned to watch a heavyset, rumpled man come up the sidewalk to greet him.

“Mr. Ross?” the man inquired, as if to make sure.

Ross nodded, leaning on his walking stick, trying to place the other’s face.

“We haven’t met,” the newcomer said, and extended his hand. “I’m Andrew Wren, from The New York Times.”

The investigative reporter, Ross thought warily. He took the proffered hand and shook it. “How do you do, Mr. Wren?”

The professional face beamed behind rimless glasses. “The people at Pass/Go thought I might find you here. I came by earlier, but you were out. I wonder if I could speak with you a moment?”

Ross hesitated. This was probably about Simon. He didn’t want to talk to Wren, particularly just then, but he was afraid that if he refused it would look bad for the Wiz.

“This won’t take long,” Wren assured him. “We could sit at one of those tables in the little park right around the corner, if you wish.”

They walked back to the entrance to Waterfall Park and took seats at a table on the upper level where the sound of the falls wasn’t quite so deafening. Ross glanced across the street at the offices of Pass/Go, wondering if anyone had seen him. No, he amended wordlessly, not if anyone had seen him. If the demon had seen him.