Ethan jumped backward, nearly dropping his phone onto the waxed linoleum.

His face turned pale as he tapped the screen dark and shoved the phone deep into his coat pocket.

“Who were you speaking to?” I asked.

“Nobody,” he stammered, looking down at his shoes.

“I was leaving a quick voicemail.”

“You spoke to someone else just now, Ethan, and it was not your division director,” I said.

“I was calling Alan,” he said, crossing his arms defensively.

“I left a brief message on his direct office line to tell him I might be delayed for the seven thirty team briefing.”