We pulled into the strip mall lot at eight fifteen.

The neon open sign at the corner donut shop buzzed behind a fogged-up window.

Thomas unlocked his office door at eight thirty sharp and waved us in from the sidewalk.

The reception area smelled of lemon floor polish and fresh printer ink.

Nobody was at the front desk.

Thomas ran a solo practice and did all his own filing.

Thomas had on a crisp gray suit and carried a thick manila folder under his left arm.

He took us into his conference room and laid the folder on the polished wooden table.