“…ride the helicopter to the top of the mountain,” Quinn said as he held open the hotel room door for me. “Then they drop you off and you ski down.”

“Heli-skiing,” I said. Felix and Jack were watching CNN. “I hear it’s amazing.”

Felix glanced over. He looked different today—his hair color the same, but his manner changed along with his clothes. A well-loved tweed blazer and slacks, hair slightly too long, glasses perched on the end of his nose, pale cheeks hollow—the college professor who doesn’t spend much time away from his books.

“Jumping out of a helicopter and skiing down a mountain?” he said. “Sounds almost as much fun as swimming in a shark tank. But I suppose you two do that, too.”

“Only if we have the right equipment,” I said. “If you forget the blood-soaked bikini, there’s just no challenge to it.”

“Dee?” Jack cut in. “Breakfast.”

“Oh, right. Should we order—”

“Pick up.” He walked to the door. “Come on.”

“I’ll take the breakfast special,” Quinn said. “Bacon, eggs, whatever. If I get toast, make it whole wheat.”

“And what would you like in your coffee?” I asked.

He grinned. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Cream and double sugar,” Jack said. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-EIGHT

We got as far as the elevator before Jack said, “You saw my note, right? It said ‘wait.’”

“That was a note? I thought it was a haiku.” I pressed the elevator button. “I left you a note in return, and stuck to the main street, so it was no less safe than wherever you went.”

“That’s not—”

“If you mean Quinn, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Yes, I know, one minute I’m worried about meeting the guy, and the next I’m chatting and laughing with him. But that’s my way of handling situations like this. Morose and monosyllabic may work for some people, but not for me.”

“Morose?”

“The best way for me to behave with someone I don’t trust is to act like I trust them completely. They may let their guard down, but I don’t. Ever.”

As the doors opened, I could feel him watching me. We stepped on.

“Tomorrow?” he said. “You want to jog? I’ll follow.”

“You run?”

“Only if someone’s chasing. I’ll drive.”

Over breakfast, Jack told us what he’d been doing earlier—checking his messages. And he’d had one, from Shadow. It seemed Sid, his twin brother, had indeed been taken into custody. Now Shadow had decided to make like his namesake and gone to ground, wanting nothing more to do with the investigation. He was in such a hurry that Jack didn’t get a chance to ask whether they’d uncovered any leads or even what angle they’d been investigating.