When they were gone, Jonas folded up the map and packed his things. Peyton thought he would leave, but he lingered, his demeanor changing, becoming a little more nervous.

“You’re going to miss Thanksgiving, huh?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Parents disappointed?”

“Not really. They know I wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t important.”

“I know what you mean. You… have a sister, right?”

“Yeah. Older sister, Madison.”

“And a nephew, niece?”

“Both now. Madison had her second child last year, a girl this time. Olivia.”

He nodded, still seeming uncomfortable. Peyton was surprised by his sudden personal interest. Jonas had been a great partner over the years, but their relationship had remained strictly professional.

“What about you?” she asked, unsure what to say.

“No one missing me back in Geneva. Or Heidelberg. Parents passed away a few years ago. I have a sister in London, but she’s got her career and family; keeps her pretty busy.” He fidgeted with his bag a moment, then said, “So no strapping young man counting the hours until you return to Atlanta?”

“No, not for a while.” Peyton looked around, wondering if he would say something else. Finally, she said, “What about you?”

“No, me either. Kind of tough with the job.”

“I know what you mean.”

Jonas’s mood seemed a little lighter, his nervousness gone. He put the backpack over his shoulders and walked to the door. “All right then. Lock up tight. See you in a few.”

“Will do,” Peyton said, watching him leave, a puzzled expression still on her face.

She took a triangular wooden block from her duffel and wedged it under the door. Just in case, she also moved a wood-framed chair from the desk and placed it against the door handle. She set a can of mace by her bed and hid a sheathed boot knife under the pillow beside her.

She assumed that the hotel washed the sheets regularly but figured the comforters were rarely cleaned, just wiped off and left to collect all manner of germs and bugs from hundreds of guests each year. So she took the comforter off the queen size bed she would sleep in and placed it on the dresser. She definitely didn’t want it near her face. Being germ-conscious sort of came with the territory in her line of work.

For the first few years of her career, she had done exactly what she’d advised her EIS agents to do: she had called her mother whenever she landed for a deployment. As she’d grown older, she had gotten out of the habit, but that night in Nairobi, sitting on the stripped bed in her hotel room, Peyton dialed her mother.

Lin Shaw answered on the second ring, and Peyton got the impression that she had been crying.

“Everything all right?” Peyton asked.

“Yes, dear. Where are you?”

Peyton told her, and they made small talk, about the flight, and her sister, and her mother’s quilting. After Peyton’s father passed away, Lin had raised her son and two daughters alone. Peyton had always been close to her mother, but that night, for the first time in years, her mother ended the call by saying, “I love you very much.”