The cover had gone soft at the corners.

“Is that part of the job?”

“Only if you care whether the building is really empty at night.” He sipped his coffee.

“Most folks don’t.”

A door opened down the hall.

Derek’s voice arrived first, laughing at something, and then he walked past the doorway with a file folder under his arm.

The folder was manila and fat enough to hold a pile of receipts.

He spotted me and stopped.