“Is it a bit strange they’re filming today?” Park asked. “James’s blood still being filtered out of the sea lion pool down the road and all that.”

“I got the impression from Sophie that they’re running hugely behind schedule. There’s some kind of screening at the gala tonight, and they were supposed to launch a lot more content as a follow-up to that. But it’s going poorly and Hirano is under a lot of pressure from all the people she’s persuaded to invest in this.”

Hirano was there today, among the crowd watching. Cooper also recognized the curator Ryan and—close to the barrier to keep zoo patrons from walking directly under the monkeys, looking every inch a nervy personal assistant with his coffee and touchpad balanced in his hands—Neil. Or J.T. Armstrong, as his cover story claimed.

“I was thinking we could get lunch in town after this,” Park said, interrupting his thoughts. “Since we didn’t get to go last night. That Cajun place you like is nearby. Maybe we could walk there. Talk.”

“Mmm, sure. That sounds good,” Cooper said, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Park. “Why are you so determined to eat out all of a sudden? I said I’d go shopping if you made me a list.”

Park appeared very focused on the various people still trying to tempt the monkey back into the spotlight. “I will. I just missed you this week. I want to spend time with you.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow.

“I want to spend some non-naked, non-working time with you as well.”

“All right, lunch out it is. But straight back to naked work after.”

“If you wish,” Park said, still watching the crowd, but he looked unaccountably pleased. A small, satisfied smile curling the corners of his lips as he rocked onto the balls of his feet and bounced a little.

Speaking of work. “We should talk to the Cranes separately, don’t you think?” Cooper asked.

“Yes. That’s Genevieve Crane,” Park said, drawing Cooper’s attention to the woman standing beside Neil, studying a piece of paper.

She was white, anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five, nearly as tall as Cooper, and very pretty, though he couldn’t quite point to why exactly. She had flat brown hair and flat brown eyes and she didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup, though that perception was definitely just due to his own ignorance, because a second woman with buzzed, peroxide-blond hair and an enormous fanny pack could clearly be seen dabbing at Genevieve’s face with various-size brushes. Both of them looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t really place why.

“Are you sure?” Cooper asked. “Is she...” He trailed off suggestively, curious to know if she was a werewolf, but not wanting to risk being overheard.