“Detective,” I called as Alice darted in front of me. I leaned around her. “Did you wish to see me?”

He looked as startled as I felt. He came slowly down the stairs to street level. “I was hoping to grab a minute with your boss.” He was wearing the same sad-sack suit he’d worn during my long day in Interview A, and I could only imagine how out of place he must have looked in the grand reception room of Mark Ivins & Associates. “But it seems he’s not available.”

“Perhaps I could help?” I said. As I came halfway up my own flight of stairs, Alice positioned herself between me and the street. She was on high alert, scanning the parked cars at the curb, scanning the surrounding rooftops.

“Well, uh. I shouldn’t really talk to you,” Riley said. “Seeing as you’re represented by counsel.”

I smiled. “That’s a rule designed to protect the unwitting. I don’t think I’m in any danger.”

He hesitated. “Still and all.”

“Could you take this inside?” Alice said in a low voice.

That seemed to decide him. He followed me as I turned down the stairs toward my apartment. Alice usually left me at the threshold, but this time she came in and pressed the door shut with her back. She stood sentry there as I led Riley inside.

“Nice digs,” he said, his head swiveling to take it in. In a lower voice he said, “What’s with the bodyguard?”

I put my briefcase on the kitchen counter. “It seems I’m being followed.”

His caterpillar eyebrows crawled upward. “Barrett?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “You should have called the police.”

“Oh, right. Because my last encounter went so well.”

To his credit, he looked away.

I watched him amble a few steps deeper into the apartment before I asked: “Is this the part where you guys ask for a drink of water or to use the bathroom?”

“Hey.” He looked back at me, umbrage taken. “You invited me in.”

“I was joking, Detective.” Nonetheless, I took out a glass and filled it at the sink and placed it between us on the counter. “Have some water anyway.”

He cracked a smile and took the glass.

“What did you want to see Mr. Ivins about?”

“I thought we might compare notes. I assume he’s been gathering evidence in his lawsuit against your old company.”

“And you want to compare his evidence with—what? Your evidence against me?” I let out a little laugh. “Why, Detective. Are you taking another look at your own case?”

He shrugged. “Just, you know, dotting all the i’s.”

“Without Detective Cruz?”

“He’s busy on an active case.”

“And you’re not.”

He didn’t answer. He lifted his glass and studied me over the rim as he took a slow swallow. “I wanted to ask Ivins if he ever came across anything about some charter flights out of Myanmar.”

Relief flowed through me like a warm stream. At last. He’d finally looked at the documents in my briefcase. “Those documents are confidential,” I said.