In that single second, I slipped my hand out of my pocket, unscrewed the rubber dropper, and let two clear drops fall straight into the ground coffee waiting on the counter.

The drops sank into the dark grounds without leaving a mark.

Daniel turned around with his mug, lowered the lever on the machine, and watched the thick dark liquid stream into the cup.

He lifted the porcelain to his lips and drank half of it in two quick swallows.

“Did you speak with your niece this morning?” he asked, wiping a speck of brown foam from his upper lip.

“Chloe was busy at her office,” I said, stepping back toward the hallway.