Trent settled himself back at his work, his pen occasionally accompanying the drums as he paused in thought. Obviously this was one of his favorites. I slipped in and out of sleep as the afternoon wore on, soothed by the rumble of drums and whisper of music. The occasional phone call sent Trent’s mellow voice to rise and fall in a soothing sound, and I found myself eagerly waiting for the next interruption just so I could hear it.

It was a commotion in the hall that jerked me from sleep. “I know where his office is,” boomed an overly confident voice, reminding me of one of my more arrogant professors.

There was a half-heard scolding from Sara Jane, and Trent met my inquiring gaze.

“Turn it all to hell,” he muttered, the corners of his expressive eyes crinkling. “I told him to send one of his assistants.” He dug about in a drawer with unusual haste, the clatter bringing me fully awake. I blinked the sleep from me as he pointed a remote at the player. The pipes and drums ceased. He tossed the remote back into the drawer with a resigned air. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that Trent liked having someone to share his day with, someone he didn’t have to pretend to be anything but what he was—whatever he was. His anger at Francis had set my creepy meter off the scale.

Sara Jane knocked and came in. “Mr. Faris is here to see you, Mr. Kalamack?”

Trent took a slow breath. He didn’t look happy. “Send him in.”

“Yes sir.” She left the door open and her heels clicked away. They soon returned as she escorted in a heavyset man wearing a dark gray lab coat. The man looked huge standing beside the small woman. Sara Jane left, her eyes pinched in a lingering worry.

“Can’t say I like your new secretary,” Faris grumbled as the door closed. “Sara, is it?”

Trent rose to his feet and extended his hand, his distaste hidden behind his sincere-looking smile. “Faris. Thanks for coming on such short notice. It’s only a small matter. One of your assistants would have been fine. I trust I haven’t interrupted your research too badly?”

“Not at all. I’m always glad to get up into the sun,” he puffed as if winded.

Faris squeezed the bites I had given Trent yesterday, and Trent’s smile froze. The heavy man wedged himself into the chair across from Trent’s desk as if he owned it. He propped an ankle up on one knee, sending his lab coat to fall open to show dress slacks and shiny shoes. A dark stain spotted his lapel, and the smell of disinfectant flowed from him, almost hiding the scent of redwood. Old pocketmarked scars were scattered across his cheeks and the skin visible on his beefy hands.

Trent returned to behind his desk and leaned back, hiding his bandaged hand under the other one. There was a moment of silence.