Which means there are secrets to be learned here. I look around for something to write on and eventually settle on a seemingly forgotten receipt that’s peeking out from under the couch and a pen that was left on the coffee table. Quickly I write down the dates of White’s messages before moving down to the next contact who’s texted Lander. This one is from someone named Paolo. No last name is recorded. The text simply reads, Are you sure they won’t check?

That’s it. There’s no response to the text. Could be nothing, but still, worth looking into.

I switch over to his emails. Budgets and policies, various rules of finance, nothing here of interest . . . but the dates these emails came in . . . there’s something weird there. The emails are too few and come too far between.

He’s been deleting things. And that would make sense as a matter of course, except for the things he’s not deleting. Each email is so exceedingly benign. Some of it contains confidential information but nothing scandalous . . .

. . . which makes me think that what’s been deleted must be pretty damn interesting.

The trash folder has been completely emptied.

“So many secrets, Lander,” I murmur as I carefully put the phone back exactly where I found it.

I climb to my feet and take a moment to admire the view before going to explore the rest of the penthouse.

I search for hours but I don’t find much else and eventually I call it a night. I pin a note on the pillow next to Lander. One sentence, two words:

Thank you.

And with that I walk out.

The game is in full swing.

chapter six

It takes exactly thirteen hours for him to call. Since I left at four a.m., that brings it to precisely five in the afternoon. By that time I’m on the other side of the park, on the Upper West Side, preparing for stage two.

I’ve since programmed his line into my caller ID, but when I pick up I wait for him to identify himself anyway.

“How’d you get my number?”

It’s not a real question. I know damn well that the manager of Ivan’s gave it to him. He’s the one who gave Lander my name too. It took some grilling to get that out of him . . . but I can be surprisingly intimidating when I need to be.

“Your boss gave it to me,” Lander confirms, “or I suppose I should say, your former boss.”