“Goodnight, Cormac.”

From the sofa, Cillian lifted one hand.

“Night, bathroom guy.”

For the first time that day, I laughed.

I took the elevator down and walked six blocks in the cold because I needed the space to think.

My mother intercepted me before I reached my office.

Of course she did.

Beatrice Farrington had spent forty years making sure nothing happened in her orbit without her knowing it first.