“No. A visit to his office is my top priority tomorrow morning. I know he’s on the road quite a bit visiting clients, so it could take a few attempts before we connect. But I don’t want to set up an appointment. The element of surprise can be helpful.” He finished off his baklava.

“What do you think about pursuing the foxglove angle?”

He set his fork on the table and took a swig of coffee. “Let’s do this. I’ll meet with Mullins. If red flags go up, I’ll talk to Russ. He’s tight-fisted with the budget, but I can exert pressure if necessary.”

“I don’t want to cause friction between the new kid on the block and someone who’s been around forever.”

“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. In the end, the pursuit of justice and truth is what we’re all after, even if it requires spending a few extra bucks. I think I can present a convincing case to Russ if necessary.”

“I’d be happy to talk to him if that would be easier. I’ve worked with him longer than you have.”

“Why don’t we wait and see what comes out of my meeting with Mullins?”

She stabbed a bite of her baklava. “Waiting’s not my style.”

One side of his mouth rose. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I wouldn’t insult your baklava maker if I were you.” She pointed her fork at him.

“Duly noted.” He lifted his mug in acknowledgment. “Where do your security cameras stand?”

“I should have the estimate tomorrow. They can be installed by the end of the week.” She broke off another bite of the baklava with the edge of her fork.

“Good.”

She watched him as she chewed. “You’re worried my harasser isn’t finished with me yet.”

The twin grooves on his forehead answered her question before he spoke, validating her own concerns. “I don’t think we should assume this person will disappear into the mist. I did try to track down the phone number Tyler gave me. It was a burner phone, as his attorney suspected.”

“Bummer.” She pressed the tines of her fork against a few flakes of phyllo dough and slid them into her mouth, but the honeyed sweetness didn’t chase away the pungent taste of fear.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?”

She summoned up a smile and finished off her dessert. “No, thank you. I should leave and let you get back to rehabbing.” She rose and picked up her plate and mug. Much as she’d like to stay, it wasn’t fair to further disrupt his plans for the evening.

He followed her to the sink, his own crockery in hand. “You don’t have to rush off. The painting will wait.”

“But I don’t want to be the one responsible for you living in a construction zone longer than you have to.” She started to rinse the stickiness from her plate.

His strong, lean fingers touched the back of her hand, short-circuiting her respiration. “Leave it. I’ll take care of the dishes later.” A beat ticked by. “I wish you’d stay.”