“That’s me,” said the masked driver. “Conner?”

“You got him. Conner Brandt, nice to meet you.”

As the Uber headed downtown, Conner checked his iPhone again. “How’s business been for you these past few months with this crazy virus?” he asked.

“Up and down,” said Enrique shrugging his shoulders. “When it started, my wife didn’t want me to drive anymore because she was afraid I’d get sick or get my kids sick, but we needed the money. For a few weeks nobody in New York was going anywhere. There were no fares. None. Now people are relaxing a little and moving around more.”

“I hear you have a slight accent. Where are you from, Enrique?”

The middle-aged driver laughed. “I’m from Columbia. You ever been?”

“Never.”

“You should go. I’m from Medellín, it’s a beautiful city. Perfect weather all year round just like California.”

“No kidding?” said Conner.

The two men chatted amiably for the entire trip downtown. When Enrique pulled up to the front of the FBI field office he handed Conner his business card.

“You in the FBI? If you ever need a ride to the airport or anything, call me direct and I’ll give you a great deal,” said Enrique.

Conner took the card and put it in his breast pocket. “Good to know. Nice meeting you, Enrique. You have a great day.”

Inside the FBI building, Conner went through security and got on the elevator. Once on his floor, he passed another agent from his unit in the hall.

“Hey Brandt, I heard about what happened with your wife. Is she all right?” said the other agent.

“It was a crazy thing but she’s holding up,” said Conner. “She’s depressed though. The whole thing has been a shock.”

“I heard you were taking some time off?” said the agent.

“I am but I’ve been working the CIG case and the boss needed me to sign off on something today. I’m not technically here,” he replied. “Just in and out. My wife was taking a nap so it was a good time for me to duck out for a few hours.”

Still in bed nursing her glass of bourbon, Zoe got up, walked over to the dresser and picked up her hairbrush. Gliding it through her thick dark hair, she took another sip of her drink. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror her eyes went to the pile of Conner’s soiled dress shirts behind her on the bed. Turning around, she picked one up, looked at the collar and ran her finger over the Thayer and Co label. I never noticed he bought his shirts from that store before.