Leo is at the apartment when I get back, opening a can of beer. I see now what has replaced the sleeping pills. Watching him take that first sip is almost physically painful. I’ve been sober now, yet again, for over a year. I don’t begrudge him this liquid courage, but there’s only so much I can take.

“Leo,” I say softly. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. He shakes his head.

I leave him and go to an AA meeting. My first in a long time. There are some old faces and quite a few new ones. Nobody minds me. I choose not to share today, and everyone here understands. Whisper lounges at my feet until the meeting is over. I feel unsettled, but I don’t understand why until after. I had hoped to see Simone, but she hasn’t made an appearance.

When I call, I get her voicemail. Again. “Mmm, I’m busy, boo-boo,” she purrs. “But I’ll call you back. Maybe. If you’ve been good. So be good. And leave a message.”

I haven’t been good since childhood—and probably not even then—but I leave a message for her anyway.

Whisper and I go back to the office, where I find Stevie Warsame uploading photos from his high-tech camera to his computer.

We’ve worked well together in the past, Stevie and me. He doesn’t get personal, which is my favorite quality in a colleague. Once, Leo had asked him about his childhood in Somalia, and Warsame said he didn’t remember much before the refugee camp in Kenya. Which shut Leo up real quick.

Warsame looks me over. “So you’re still alive?”

“I’m shocked, too.”

He nods. We leave it at that.

I put on some coffee and hear the phone ring in the other room. A moment later Warsame sticks his head into the kitchen. “It’s for you,” he says.

“Who is it?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t ask. Says he wants to speak to the lady that works here. You want me to tell him to go fuck himself?”

“Let’s see what he wants first.” When I pick up the phone, Nolan’s voice comes through, low and urgent. There’s some excitement to it, too, which throws me more than the fact that he’s calling me. Belatedly, I remember slipping him a business card. But I never expected him to use it.

“Lady . . . what was your name again?”

I hadn’t given it the first time. “Nora,” I say.

“Yeah, so listen, Nora. I got called to work an event at the club tomorrow night. One of the other door guys cancelled. It’s no guarantee, but it’s put on by the Devi Group—that’s the family Vidal married into. If you want, I can get you inside. You can meet him face-to-face.” He laughs, and I’m again thrown.