His face went pale as he darkened the screen and shoved the phone deep into his coat pocket.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked.

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

“I was leaving a quick voicemail.”

“You were talking to someone just now, Ethan, and it wasn’t your division director,” I said.

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

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

“Alan Vance doesn’t answer personal calls at two in the morning,” I said, stepping closer to him in the narrow corridor.