She didn’t take the pages with her.

That was the first thing that didn’t add up.

At two I was standing in the lobby of Fiona’s apartment building with her coat over my arm.

It was the coat she’d left at my house on Sunday, the one with the fake fur collar.

Fiona came down the stairs with her phone in hand and a ring light on a tripod set up behind her.

“You look awfully pleased with yourself today, Fiona.