Chapter ThirtyLogan didn't come in. He didn't ask to. Perhaps it was because I blocked the doorway, arms crossed. Or perhaps he was irritated I asked for the envelope and didn't take his words at face value. But why should I trust him? He would do whatever Archer told him, even if he didn't want to.
He'd brought the original photos too, just so I wouldn't ask for them later in a fit of paranoia and lose time on dead ends–his words, not mine. The envelope–a brown paper thing big enough to fit the prints–had no scent except for Archer's, Logan's and Elizabeth's. There was another, fainter scent Logan informed me belonged to a human who worked in the Sacramento post office. If there was another scent, neither I nor Zantry detected it.
Not surprisingly, Zantry didn't find anything suspicious
