“Evidently when the killer woke up he was hallucinating. Claimed he had been attacked by an extraterrestrial who used a ray gun. He confessed to all of the killings because he is convinced he’ll be safer in jail. Seems to think that if he gets out, the visitor from outer space will come after him with the weapon.”

Olivia gave him a steely smile. “What’s the name of your hotel? I’ll need it for the driver. He can drop you off first.”

It occurred to him that in his race to find her he had neglected to book a hotel. Before he could explain the situation, the lilting notes of a musical instrument drifted down the street. It also occurred to him that he had been so focused on Olivia he hadn’t done a proper recon.

“Sounds like a flute,” he said.

“A recorder, I think.” Olivia glanced around. “One of those simple instruments that children learn to play in school.”

He turned to do a quick scan of his surroundings. There was a small group of people approaching from the end of the block. Tech workers leaving the office late and heading out for a beer and some bar food. He glanced in the other direction and saw a couple coming toward where he stood with Olivia. The two people were intent on what was obviously a very private conversation.

“Harlan?” Olivia said, her voice sharp. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored her to continue the sweep. On the other side of the street a man wearing a stocking cap and an ancient coat that was two sizes too big stood next to a rusty grocery cart piled high with a jumble of found objects. An unrolled sleeping bag dangled over one side of the cart.

There was no obvious threat, but Harlan had learned that it was never a good idea to ignore his intuition. It was the primary reason he was still alive.

“Are you all right?” Olivia asked, concern lacing her voice now.

He could feel energy shifting in the atmosphere and knew she was watching him with her other senses.

“I’m fine,” he said. “But I don’t like standing around here on the street. For one thing, it’s cold. For another, I’m hungry. Do you mind if we find a restaurant where I can grab a bite to eat and maybe get a drink? We need to talk.”

He didn’t like the idea of sitting around in a public space like a restaurant, either, but there wasn’t much choice. Her office was several blocks away and it was closed. It was too soon to suggest they go back to her apartment. At this point she had no reason to trust him beyond Arganbright’s assurance that, for now at least, he was allied with the Foundation. It was highly unlikely she would invite him into her home.