“Why were you so worried about finding me? You knew Victor had made an appointment for us to meet first thing in the morning.”

He took out his wallet, plucked a credit card from it and signaled the waiter. “I was afraid someone else would get to you first.”

She winced. “Nice to know I’m such a valuable commodity.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You make me sound like a contest prize,” she explained.

The waiter scooped up the card and vanished again. Harlan turned back to her.

“Not a prize,” he said, earnest now. “A key.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say that in the first place? It makes such a difference.”

The waiter returned with the card. Olivia got to her feet and reached for her coat and handbag. Harlan signed the bill, shrugged into his trench coat and hoisted the duffel bag from under the table.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Where will you stay tonight?”

“I’ll figure it out after I make sure your apartment is secure.”

“Wait. You want to check out my apartment?”

“Yes. Lucas Pine said there are some nearby hotels. I’ll find one.”

“You’d better be right about this Vortex case being connected to my mother’s death.”

He pushed open the front door and ushered her out onto the sidewalk. “I am sure it is.”

She took her phone out of her pocket, intending to use her favorite ride app, but the music of a recorder snagged her attention.

“Whoever is playing that recorder is still at it,” she said.

“Yes,” Harlan said.

He stopped. A curious stillness came over him.

She turned her head to see what had attracted his attention. The homeless man with the shopping cart was back. He stood in the shadows at the corner. He appeared to be holding an object to his mouth. At first she thought he was lighting a cigarette. Belatedly she realized he was the one playing the recorder.

The music had a strange, piercing quality. Not pretty, but oddly compelling. Darkly thrilling. It stirred the fine hairs on the back of her neck and at the same time made her want to get closer so that she could hear it more clearly. There were answers to be found in the music. All she had to do was follow the notes to their source . . .

“Shit,” Harlan said. “The guy with the shopping cart. I should have figured it out earlier. Guess you were right about my twitchy aura. I wasn’t paying attention.”

He wrapped one hand around Olivia’s upper arm and hauled her down the street. His fierce urgency broke the spell of the music. She slammed into her other senses and sprinted to keep up with him. Harlan’s aura was blazing. Their physical connection intensified the effect of his energy field on hers.

She managed to slip her phone into her coat pocket.

“What’s going on?” she gasped.