Before I met Lydia, I’d presumed that husky voice on the phone belonged to some hot young thing. When we did meet, I realized my unforgivable lapse in reasoning. There was no way in hell Gabriel would hire eye candy to manage his office when he could get someone like Lydia for the same salary, given she was past retirement age and just looking for an interesting way to spend her time. Working for Gabriel was nothing if not interesting.

According to Lydia’s research, Childs was a graduate of Portland State who’d moved to Chicago ten years ago, immediately opening his own business and attracting a decent clientele. Never married. No kids. No affiliation with any known political party or other group. In other words, a guy without ties. Not unlike the man I worked for. A lack of ties meant a lack of accountability and, well, let’s face it, a lack of witnesses.

Childs worked from home, which made it difficult to stake him out. Problem number two? We could find absolutely no photographic record of him. No passport. No driver’s license.

The only alternative was to call him up, express interest in his services, and persuade him to meet with me. Except Childs wasn’t home, and he didn’t seem to have an admin assistant. I left a message with my cell number.

—

Lydia was on the phone as we were walking past her desk. She flagged me down and covered the receiver.

“I can finally get you in to see Todd,” she said.

I froze mid-step. Gabriel turned to me. “You’d rather not?”

“No, I—”

“Let me rephrase that. I know you’d rather not. I’m going to leave this ball in your court, Olivia. If you wish to visit Todd at some juncture, let Lydia know and—”

“Tuesday.”

He hesitated.

“I’ll go Tuesday,” I said.

“That’s tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. Maybe . . .” I took a deep breath and turned to Lydia. “I’d like to go tomorrow if you can make the arrangements, please.”

She nodded, and Gabriel led me out the door.

—

I showered and changed at Gabriel’s, and I planned to grab a taxi, presuming Ricky would have his bike at the airport. Gabriel was having none of that. He would deliver me to the doors of the appropriate terminal, where he would watch until I was safely inside. I could say he was overreacting, but given the events of the last few days, he really wasn’t.

I stood with the usual crowd of friends and family at the bottom of the baggage claim escalators and tried not to bounce on my toes like an excited kid. As I spotted Ricky at the top, a young woman beside me whispered to her friend, “Who’s that?” They began speculating—musician, actor, model . . .