She pushed the soup closer.

“Eat first, Rebecca.

You won’t think well with an empty stomach.”

I ate three spoonfuls, then picked up the number for Russell Keane.

PART 3

Russell worked out of a narrow office above a neighborhood insurance agency.

There were no dark windows or impressive brass signs, only filing cabinets, two monitors, and a wall clock that ticked loudly enough to remind visitors that time mattered.

He was a thin man in his late fifties who wore reading glasses on a cord.