Shaw got in his car, but before he could start the engine, his phone rang. He dragged it out, guessing that North needed a ride home. Instead, to his surprise, Matty’s name flashed on the screen. And—second surprise—it was a video call.

“Hello?”

The video came in at a decent quality. Matty was holding the phone high, his face taking up most of the screen, although a brick wall showed in the background. The lighting was strange—too bright, and a harsh white that Shaw didn’t remember from the lamps in Matty’s loft. The brick looked different too, but maybe that was just the camera.

“Shaw? Oh. Hey. Um. Are you home, by any chance?”

“No, I’m still working. What’s going on? Why is the light funny?”

Matty squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. “I was trying to, uh, I’ve got these wrinkles right here, by my eyes, and I thought maybe I could wash them out with the light.”

“You don’t have wrinkles.”

“Oh,” Matty said, opening his eyes like it was news to him.

Before Shaw could ask his next question, the video pixelated—bad connection—and then, when it cleared, a burst of laughter and voices sounded in the background.

“Dang it,” Matty whispered.

“The light’s weird,” Shaw said, “and the brick looks different. I’m pretty sure you’re not having a party, but I hear voices.”

Matty bit his lip and looked away.

“Where are you?” Shaw asked.

“It was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Jesus, Matty, are you back at the office?”

“I thought you’d be home by now.”

“It’s—Christ, quarter after eleven? It’s late. You said you thought people were following you. You were scared. Why are you out—”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know it was stupid, but you were so nice, and I just wanted to, I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry, this was so stupid.”

But Shaw knew why Matty had gone back to the offices. He didn’t want to know—part of him thought his ego was getting too big, and that part of him sounded a lot like North—but he knew. And he tried to soften his voice.

“Matty, I’ve got stuff to do still.”

“You’ll be home soon, though. Right? I can just—I’ll sit in my car.”

More voices, louder, rang out, and Matty flinched and glanced off camera.

“Is that Octavius and his boys? Just ignore them. They’re good guys, just loud.”

“This was so stupid,” Matty whispered. He looked like he might cry. “I’ll go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Shaw said. “I’m working your case, Matty, and I’m not heading home yet.” That was a lie, but Shaw wasn’t ready for . . . for whatever was coming. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll get breakfast tomorrow. Or brunch. Something not too early, all right?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“You didn’t bother me.”

“I guess I better go.”

“Get in your car. Drive straight home. Lock the door.”

“I will.”

“Brunch tomorrow. Or maybe lunch.”