He turned away from the window and stared at the interior of the apartment in frustration. The best thing he could do was to follow through on his promise to Nest and get out of town. Do that, put a little distance between himself and whatever machinations the demon was engaged in, and take a fresh look at things in a few days.

Don’t take any chances with the events of the dream.

He glanced at his watch. It was already approaching four o’clock, and the festivities at the Seattle Art Museum were scheduled to begin at six sharp.

Dropping into his favorite wing chair, he dialed Pass/Go and asked for Stefanie. Told that she was in a meeting, he left a message for her to call him.

He went into the bedroom, pulled his duffel bag out of the closet, and began to pack. It didn’t take long. There wasn’t much packing to do for this sort of trip, and he didn’t have much to choose from in any case. It gave him pause when he realized how little he owned. The truth was, he had never stopped living as if he were just passing through and might be catching the morning bus to some other place.

He was reading a magazine when the door burst open and Stefanie stalked into the room and threw a clump of papers into his lap.

“Explain this, John!” she demanded coldly, standing rigid with fury before him.

He looked down at the papers, already knowing what they were. Photocopies of the bank transfers Andrew Wren had shown him earlier. He looked up again. “I don’t know anything about these accounts. They aren’t mine.”

“Your signature is all over them!”

He met her gaze squarely. “Stef, I didn’t steal a penny. That’s not my signature. Those aren’t my accounts. I told the same thing to Andrew Wren when he asked me about it an hour ago. I wouldn’t do anything like this.”

She stared at him silently, searching his face.

“Stef, I wouldn’t.”

All the anger drained away, and she bent down to kiss him. “I know. I told Simon the same thing. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

She put her hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms, her tousled black hair falling over her battered face. Then she knelt before him, her eyes lifting to find his. “I’m sorry. This hasn’t been a good day.”

You don’t know the half of it, he thought to himself. “I was thinking we might go away for a few days, let things sort themselves out.”

She smiled up at him sadly. “A few days, a few weeks, a few months, we can take as much time as we want. We’re out of a job.”

He felt his throat tighten. “What?”

“Simon fired you. When I objected and he wouldn’t change his mind, I quit.” She shrugged.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Why would Simon fire me without giving me a chance to explain?”