Darian was in the corridor when she found him.
Still on the call one hand pressed flat against the wall, shoulders set in the specific way they set when he was containing something larger than the conversation required. He saw her come through the conference room door and ended the call immediately.
"What did he say," he said.
She looked at him for a moment. At the controlled tension in his expression, at the grey eyes that were her daughter's eyes and were currently considerably less calm than his daughter's tended to be.
"He knows about Saturday," she said.
Something shifted in his face. "How specific."
"Specific enough. Millennium Park. Ten o'clock." She paused. "He said she looks like you. Even from a distance."
Darian was very still.
"He had someone watching," he said. Not a q
