I should refuse. Thistle and I have known one another since we were in foster care together. My parents were shot in a home invasion, hers drove off a bridge with her in the back seat. We lost touch after she was adopted out, but when I was consulting for the corrupt director of the FBI Houston Field Office, she became my handler. We were drawn to each other in a way that was dangerous for both of us. There were only two possible outcomes for our relationship: me getting arrested, or her getting eaten. So I pretended I wasn’t attracted to her, to keep her safe.

She didn’t take it well.

‘What do you need?’ I hear myself ask.

‘I’d rather not discuss that over the phone.’ Her voice is flat. Hard to read.

Spiders of paranoia crawl across my scalp: She knows. About why I really rejected her, or about the gruesome work I do for Warner, or both.

Except if she knew, she wouldn’t be calling me. She’d be breaking down my door with a SWAT team for backup.

Maybe she suspects, but doesn’t have enough for an arrest. I should tell her I’m coming, and then grab everything I own and skip town.

‘Is this a personal call?’ I ask hopefully.

‘Very professional. You coming or not?’

‘I’m coming,’ I say. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘What, you got yourself a nine-to-five? Riddles stopped paying the bills?’

Thistle knows about my side hustle solving puzzles and riddles. She doesn’t know that it started out as a way to sell memorised credit card numbers.

‘No,’ I say.

‘Then why not come right now? You’re up. I’m here.’

Up? I check the phone in my pocket. It’s seven am, not pm. I’ve been in bed for thirteen hours and change.

Or have I? I’m a sleepwalker. I look around the room for signs that I wandered during the night. Nothing seems to have moved.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll be there in an hour.’

‘Great. See you soon.’

I love her voice, even when it doesn’t sound like it loves me. I open my mouth to say goodbye, but she’s already hung up.

•

The Houston Field Office of the FBI isn’t an imposing sight on the horizon. It looks like the office of a telecommunications or insurance company. Eight storeys of dull green windows and grubby concrete. Just the same, I’m nervous as I climb out of the Toyota.