The flashlight shifted focus to Ajay’s face. “So you know Mr. Haldon as well?”

Ajay cleared his throat. “Well, actually, it’s just Bridget who does. But she showed me his message. And she does work for him.”

The cop’s skeptical expression hadn’t changed. “And how do you know that?”

“Well, uh, she knows everything about his books. And she’s always working on this database for him.”

“What do you mean?” the cop asked.

“It’s like an index to the facts in the Swords and Shadows series,” she said. If the cop considered Bob’s complicated world for a second, he’d understand. “Have you ever read any of the books?”

“No.” He bit off the word.

“Then you’ve probably watched the TV show.” That was pretty much a given. It was one of the most popular shows in America.

“I only watch sports.”

He certainly wasn’t giving her much to work with. “Okay. Well, everything in Swords and Shadows is really detailed. It’s a fantasy world with a lot of layers. A few years ago, Bob, um, Mr. Haldon, hired me to keep track of all those details. And when he’s writing, he’ll ask me questions about what he’s already established so there’s continuity between books.”

The cop didn’t look convinced. At all. “If you work for him, why did you need to break in?”

“First of all, we were not breaking in. We were just looking in the windows to make sure he hadn’t collapsed or something.” As Bridget spoke, a second police SUV pulled up at the gate. “And I don’t work here. I work at my house, and we communicate by email.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” he said as the second officer walked toward them. She was a dark-haired woman who might have looked friendly if she smiled.

She wasn’t smiling. “What’ve you got?”

“Two kids who claim they’re just worried about Haldon’s health. Can you pat them down for me?”

She did, starting with Ajay. When it was Bridget’s turn, she tried to think of it as a particularly vigorous massage.

“They’re both clean,” the female cop said as she stepped back. “Either of you two have ID?” When they nodded, she said, “Let’s see it.”

Ajay pulled out his wallet and handed it to her. She read aloud as she scribbled in a notebook she’d taken from her pocket. “Ajay Kapoor. Age seventeen. Lives in Southwest Portland.”

“Are you arresting us?” Bridget’s voice shook. Without answering the question, the cop handed Ajay’s ID back, then held out her hand for Bridget’s.

She pulled out her phone case, which also had slots for her ID.

“Bridget Shepherd,” the cop read. “Also seventeen. Also lives in Southwest Portland.”