Marcus Vance didn’t look up right away when I came into the narrow office.

He was a tall man in his fifties with short-clipped gray hair around his ears and a silver wristwatch that ticked loudly enough to hear across the desk.

He was holding a red pen in his right hand, striking lines through a stack of court papers.

“You’re Rachel Bennett?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“Have a seat, Rachel.

Detective Mitchell called ahead from the precinct.”