“Thursday,” he said, and swung back to his screen.

Megan Brooks was standing by the water cooler at a quarter after five with her arms crossed, waiting as though she had chosen the spot on purpose.

She smoothed her cardigan lapels when I came around the corner.

“Walk me to the elevator,” she said.

“I’m parked in the side lot.”

“Then walk with me anyway.” She kept her voice down.

“You’re in that window seat every single day.