I looked out the window.
Outside, Paris was doing its evening thing, the lights coming up slowly across the city like something warming. I thought about her face when she took the card. The way it had been carefully, professionally, specifically blank in the way that faces are blank when something has landed wrong and the person wearing the face has decided you won't see it.
I had seen it.
I had filed it and left anyway.
"She's not going to say anything," I said.
"No," Dane agreed. "She's not. That's the problem." He set his glass down. "She's going to carry it and say nothing and build a version of you in her head based on the evidence she has, and the evidence you've given her so far is a locked guest room, a shared bedroom she didn't ask for, and a card she probably felt like she c
