“But the keys on this ring are the ones your father kept on his own belt,” Sloan noted.

“Yes,” I said.

“I recognized the cracked ring immediately.

He used to carry it in his front pocket, and the metal would click against his belt buckle when he walked.”

“It is a warning,” Sloan said, her flat voice dropping even lower.

“He is showing you that he can reach you wherever you go.

He knows your schedule.”

“The landlord said he was at my building this morning,” I said.