That little nerve by Hackett’s eye was going to tire itself out. “That’s what I meant.”
“Course,” Marlow said in that mild voice that was somehow worrying. “Did you ever meet anyone from Victor’s past? Did he go home for the holidays?”
Hackett started to shake his head before Marlow finished the question. “No. Nope. He never did. Up until he quit, he was the best photographer on staff. He worked weekends, and he worked late. He’d do the holidays and never had any conflicts. Hell, the most surprising thing about this business with Lyons is that he actuallyhada life outside of work.”
“Why did he quit?”
There was a napkin folded up under Hackett’s plate. He unfolded it and blotted his face with the grease-stained tissue.
“He said he’d got a new boyfriend,” Hackett said. “They were going to move in together, but the new guy lived in… Santa Barbara? I don’t remember. We were yelling at that point. Who moves for sex, right? Like you couldn’t get your dick wet in town?”
He looked from Cade to Marlow for agreement. Neither of them obliged. Cade took a business card out of his jacket—plain white on the front with, when he turned it, a number printed neatly across the back—and handed it over.
“If anyone asks what we talked about, tell them to call me,” he said. “It could be risky if anyone thinks you know more than you do.”
They stood up. Marlow paused as he lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “Do you still have Clemons’s CV?” he asked.
Hackett shook his head. “Sorry, you should have asked last month. We got a virus. IT guy said it just lay low until it had infected everything—computers, backups, even the stuff in the cloud—and then scrambled it all when it triggered. Most of the footage and stills I still have, on cards, but everything else is gone.”
“That’s… inconvenient,” Cade said.
They left Hackett to salt his broth with his own sweat and headed outside. A parking enforcement officer stood in front of the car—pulled from the Cold Winds pool of vehicles—and Marlow paused. His weight shifted slightly onto his back foot as he slowly exhaled.
“Left or right? Cade asked.
Marlow laughed, a short huff of sound. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“I’d go right.”
“Huh.”
In the end, Marlow didn’t have to decide. The PEO moved on down the line of cars. Cade thumbed the fob to unlock the doors and headed over without incident.
“Eye in the Sky Photography,” Marlow read off his—well, Cade’s—phone as he pulled the seat belt over his chest and clipped it in. “They do drone photography. Corporate PR videos. Weddings. From the damp patch that Mr. Hackett was sitting in, I’m going to assume they also peep at sorority girls.”
“That, or someone had the idea to use drones to case rich people’s houses,” Cade said as he shifted gears. “It’s not a bad idea.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marlow glance at him. “Career change?”
“No, it’s the same one,” Cade said. “Sometimes clients need toseethe breakdown of the security flaws in their current system. The more dramatic, the better. Lem’s number is in the phone if you want to send Clemons’s last address through to him.”
Marlow made an absent noise in the back of his throat as he tapped his thumbs over the phone. It wasn’t the text screen that the phone was open on.
“Two moves, three states. At least,” Marlow said.
“It happens.”
“But it doesn’t fit my theory,” Marlow said. “Clemons didn’t leave his whole life behind once, he did it twice. This would be the third time. That’s not unlucky.”
No, it wasn’t. He was right.
Cade took a right onto Gramercy to avoid the traffic cameras.
“It’s a pattern,” he said. “Good. That’s something we can track.”
Chapter Six
THE SAFE HOUSEhad started to feel like more of a prison. Marlow could feel the pressure of the walls on his shoulders, as if he’d been shoved into a closet instead of a luxury basement apartment. The rent was probably three grand a month, and Marlow wanted to dig his way out with a spoon.
