“Coffee’s free if you want it,” Evelyn said.
I gaped at the gorgeous layout. “Can I work here?”
She grinned. “I’d be happy to give you a recommendation. Come on, I need to find—”
“Grey!” a curt voice shouted.
Evelyn grimaced. “Not him.”
A thin, weaselly man with furtive eyes and a sharp pointed nose approached us. He cast a long glance down at my worn boots, frayed jeans, and fuzzy sweater. “Who is this?”
“She’s my fr—” Evelyn began.
“Handler,” I finished quickly. “I’m her handler. It’s a therapy thing. Evelyn needs someone to make sure she doesn’t overexert herself.”
The man’s hum of disbelief made his throat bob. “Regardless, you know the rules, Grey. No outsiders. I’ll have to report this.”
“Alfred, you don’t work security,” Evelyn said, her lip curling up. “You don’t have the authority to boot her out.”
Alfred shrugged. “I suppose I can find someone with the authority rather easily. In fact, there’s Charlie at the bar. Charlie!” He waved daintily toward the café, where a burly woman wearing all black nursed a cup of coffee like it was her life force. When she spotted Alfred, she rolled her eyes. He didn’t get the message. “Grey’s handler doesn’t have clearance!”
That got everyone’s attention. Almost every pair of eyes looked up from what they were doing. Alfred looked pleased for half of a second, but when the applause broke out, it wiped the smirk from his face.
“Welcome back, Ev!” someone called.
“Glad you’re home!”
“All right, mate?”
As Evelyn greeted her coworkers with a timid smile and explained that she wasn’t back for good yet, I spotted a balding man with gray hair in a gray suit and a gray tie making his way toward us. The stern set of his eyebrows gave him away as Evelyn’s boss.
“Grey!” he barked, and the crowd quieted at once. Everyone parted to let him through. He beckoned Evelyn forward and looked over her shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
“It twinges, sir.”
“Enough small talk. Get in my office.” He spotted me. “Who are you?”
“Evelyn’s handler,” Alfred jumped in before I could answer. “I tried to remind her about the rules, sir, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Get her out of here,” Evelyn’s boss barked. “And Alfred?”
Alfred eagerly stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”
“Quit kissing my arse.”
Evelyn threw an apologetic look over her shoulder as her boss led her to his private office. Charlie took me by the elbow.
“Let’s go, miss,” she said gruffly. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
Charlie escorted me to a second set of elevators on the opposite side of the room. A map of the building was pinned above the buttons, but I noticed the back entrance to Evelyn’s office wasn’t on it. We rode down to the ground floor, and Charlie ushered me out. The lobby appeared normal enough. The revolving door looked out onto the busy London street. People came and went without flashing badges. A sign on the wall welcomed visitors to the Wagner Company, however vague that was.
“You can wait here,” Charlie said, pointing at a cushioned bench along the wall. “I’ll send Evelyn down when she’s finished with Rhys.”
“Rhys is her boss?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
I lowered my voice. “Is there a chance she might lose her job today? Because I don’t think that’s fair. She’s incredibly dedicated to her responsibilities. I can vouch for her. This morning, I had a nightmare, but she thought someone was robbing the flat. You should have seen how quickly she jumped to her feet.”
Charlie’s eyes drooped. If she didn’t return to her coffee soon, she might fall off her feet. “Miss whatever-your-name-is? It’s not my place to discuss this. I’m sure Evelyn will fill you in. Have a nice day.”
When she was gone, I groaned and lowered myself onto the bench. All I could do was sit and wait for Evelyn to finish her meeting. Unfortunately, I had never perfected the art of patience.
Within ten minutes, my brain threatened to jump out of my skull and escape into the street. I played a mindless game on my phone, twiddled my thumbs, and counted the tiles on the floor. Still, Evelyn did not appear.
As I considered trying to hack the elevator to return to level seven, it opened. Out spilled a squat, sobbing woman and an irritated Alfred.
“Right this way, Mrs. Lewis,” Alfred said, keeping his distance as the woman loudly blew her nose into her sleeve. “Please wait here while I locate your guard.”
As Alfred hurried away, Mrs. Lewis plopped down next to me, still crying uncontrollably. I dug in my pocket for a packet of tissues and offered them to her.
“Bless you, dear,” she said, using them to mop her face. “It’s been a trying day.”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied. “Are you all right?”
“Decidedly not.” She blew her nose again. “My son was murdered a few nights ago.” More tears leaked over her lashes, but she kept herself controlled. “The police have no idea who did it. Now they’re saying I need personal protection in case it was someone who had a grudge against our family.”
The facts clicked into place for me. William Lewis—the medical student who’d been killed on Durward Street—was this woman’s son.
“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.” I scooted closer to her and offered my arm. “Can I give you a hug?”
She nodded and fell against my shoulder, her frame wracked with fresh sobs. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Genuine anguish filled my heart. “I lost someone too,” I told her. “I know what it’s like. The pain is unbearable, but it eventually gets better.”
“D-does it?” she asked hopefully.
“Well, not better, exactly,” I explained. “But in a few years,
