“Lina, I’ll be watching,” Martineau cut her off. “If the police show, I will disappear. And so will Ellen’s notes and the answers you’re looking for.”

The line went dead.

62 - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

62

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The cab dropped them off two blocks from the SeptoMed building. As he stood on the corner with Lopez, Cohen, and Leetch, Kilburn had never felt more out of his element. Still, he experienced a similar nervous exhilaration when working the ICU trauma room.

Cohen appeared to share none of his rush. His face was creased with concern as he turned to his partner. “Rome, we don’t know what’s waiting for us up there.”

“Only one way to find out,” Leetch sighed. “Anyway, I’ll have your back.”

“Rome’s right,” Lopez whispered. “You heard how scared Martineau sounded.” She touched Cohen above the elbow. “If we call in the police, he’s not going to stick around.”

Cohen looked to Kilburn. “Graham?” he asked.

Kilburn shrugged. “I don’t think we have a choice, Seth.”

Cohen nodded and then turned back to Leetch. “Five minutes, right?”

Leetch held up his watch. “No problem. It’s Swiss,” he said with a forced laugh.

They hurried down Walnut Street. As they approached the SeptoMed building, Kilburn saw the scattered glow from a few lit offices and a row of red beacon lights along the top floor of the otherwise dark tower. Reaching the entrance, only Cohen and Lopez stood beside him. Kilburn looked over his shoulder, but Leetch was nowhere to be seen.

A dim fluorescence played over the security desk in the center of the lobby. None of the overhead lights were on. Kilburn rubbed his damp palms together as he scanned the lobby. No security guard in sight.

They exchanged a nod. Cohen stepped over to the large planter by the door. His hand patted around the pebbles at the base before pulling something out. He returned to the door holding a keycard in his hand. He slid it into the slot by the door. The indicator turned from red to green. It buzzed and Cohen pulled the door open.

Kilburn took a deep breath and stepped into the dim lobby first. Lopez and Cohen followed. Cohen pulled out a small clear plastic ruler from his jacket pocket. He dropped to his knees and wedged the ruler into the crack of the door. Standing up, he tested the door to make sure it would open. With a satisfied nod, he turned toward the elevators.

Three banks of elevators divided the floors: two to fifteen, sixteen to thirty-one, and thirty-two to the roof. They headed for the middle one. Cohen slid the keycard into the slot above the call button, and the button lit up. Kilburn kept expecting to see a guard stroll by but none did; his apprehension heightened.