Gabriel made a noise in his throat, evidently still insulted over the situation. He would suggest clients accept the bargains in unwinnable cases. Otherwise, he took it kind of personally when they did.

“Coming?” I said as I climbed the steps to the doorway. “Or are you acting mature and waiting out here?”

His eyes narrowed, offended by the suggestion he wouldn’t join in my silly adventure.

“Remember how I said you need a pair of jeans?” I said as he glanced down at his pressed and pristine trousers. “I’m serious about that. I’m storing jeans and a T-shirt in your car for all future adventures.”

A faint eye roll.

“You’ve worn jeans before,” I said. “Jeans, T-shirt, Saints jacket…You make a very convincing biker.”

His look said I knew very well it was borrowed emergency clothing.

“Hey, it still happened. I have proof. Ricky forwarded me the photo. Don’t worry. I filed it in a secret folder, so no one will see it but me.”

Which was true, though that wasn’t the real reason I’d filed it away. When I had it in my main photo file, every time I passed it, I’d kind of forget what I was doing. Gabriel in worn jeans, a too-small T-shirt, and a leather jacket, with dark stubble and damp, wavy hair…Which was not to say he didn’t look good in a suit, but then I kept imagining getting him out of it and into something more comfortable. Like a bed. Or couch. Or any conveniently located horizontal surface. Even a vertical one would do. I wasn’t picky.

“Olivia?”

“Onward,” I said. “Lloergan? Do you want to come in or—”

She plunked down in front of the door. I gave her a pat and then went inside. Beyond the entrance, hanging plastic strips curtained a doorway, like a car wash. When we went through, we found ourselves in darkness. Gabriel turned on his cell phone and shone light down the corridor, with black-painted walls and a ceiling so low he had to duck.

“This doesn’t seem safe,” he said.

“It’s not supposed to.” I flicked off his cell phone, took his hand, and pressed it against the wall. “Feel your way. If you hit something soft, it’s me, and you probably want to stop feeling around.” Not that I’d object, but only if you did it intentionally, which seems unlikely to happen anytime soon.

I set out, each hand on a wall as I followed the twists and turns of the dark maze. I kept up a steady stream of chatter. If I’m not talking, Gabriel’s going to presume I’ve been rendered unconscious.

When I paused for a response, silence answered.

“You stopped listening five minutes ago, didn’t you?” I said.