“I always was. You just never had enough interaction with me to realize it. Now, are we going to sit here and talk until they have the trap set?”

“That’d be more fun.”

Gabriel opened the car door and climbed out.

—

The dryads had entered through a window that, upon closer inspection, was not merely broken but boarded. The boards, however, were only partly nailed and could be swung aside. Once they were through, Gabriel took out his cell, turned on the light, looked around, and saw a problem. Possibly a significant one.

It looked as if some effort at reconstruction had been made years ago, the drywall torn out and the flooring removed, leaving wooden studded walls and bare underlay floor.

Wood. Lots of wood. Which dryads used for camouflage. As Gabriel recalled, though, it worked better in the forest, against uneven surfaces. He continued into the hall and then paused as light footfalls sounded overhead.

“Time to find a way up,” Patrick whispered. “I vote…” He looked both ways. “Left.”

“It’s right,” Gabriel said, and started walking.

“Are you just being contrary? Because—”

Gabriel pointed to the floor, where dusty footsteps led right. He followed them down two corridors to where stairs had been torn out, possibly to keep squatters from accessing the upper floors.

“That’s inconvenient,” Patrick said.

Gabriel ignored him. Presumably, dryads could not fly. Therefore they’d gone another way. He picked through the debris until he found the dryads’ footprints, which led to a service elevator. The doors stood open, the car stopped eight feet off the ground.

When Gabriel looked around for more footprints, Patrick shook his head. “No, this is the way. Damn dryads are like monkeys. Give me a boost.”

Gabriel did. Then he walked off as Patrick called, “Where are you going?”

“To find something to step on.”

“You’re a big guy. Haul your ass on up here.”

“The fact that I’m a ‘big guy’ means that my ‘ass’ and the rest of me requires additional upper-body strength to lift.”

“No, you just don’t like to roll up your sleeves and get dirty. Why are you wearing a dress shirt anyway? It’s Saturday. Wait…” Patrick peered down at him. “You aren’t wearing a tie. I knew there was something different. No tie. Top button undone…”

“If I’m not wearing a tie, I’m hardly going to fasten my top button.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a tie.”

“You have. You just didn’t notice.”

Gabriel unbuttoned his cuffs and meticulously rolled his sleeves. It was not so much a matter of getting dirty as of permanently damaging an expensive shirt. He’d already lost one today, and while he did not regret the loss if he was going to damage shirts, he’d rather lose them in that manner.