Silenced

CHAPTER SIX

Josh Stein insisted on driving to Devon Sullivan & Associates, the lobbying company where Wendy James worked as a secretary. He wanted to exchange information about the case, but he did most of the talking. In between his off-color jokes about loose women and politics and his valuable information and insight about Wendy James’s initial interview after the scandal broke, Lucy didn’t know if she wanted to kill him or praise him.

Noah was right. Stein was very smart—and very much a jerk.

“I would have cut her loose then,” Stein was saying, “because it seemed to be exactly what it was on the surface. A hot young chick sleeping with power. She was in no position to influence legislation, she’s a fucking secretary, doesn’t even have to register. But it came back to her knowledge of a particular bill Crowley killed in committee.”

“You’ve lost me,” Noah said.

“She went into the interview all charming, tits perky, eyelashes fluttering, but she was no bimbo. Too smart. We were just chatting, I made a comment about one of her company’s clients, an upstart company, and she immediately corrected me. The client was no longer with DSA, and the product they made wasn’t a computer chip, but a specialized lens for space telescopes.”

“Why’s that important?”

“It was obscure. Some things she may know, but in that detail? Considering her employer told me she was essentially the receptionist? So I asked some other questions, confirmed that she was sharp. So I’m thinking, maybe it wasn’t so much influence peddling on Crowley’s part, but maybe this girl had some other boyfriends on the side. Maybe she gathers up information like we gather up evidence, sees what fits and what doesn’t. Campaign secrets and whatnot.”

“Is that a crime?” Lucy asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depending on what she does with the information. If there’s money involved. If there’s national security at risk. So I asked some things I knew weren’t true, and one thing I knew was true—that she’d been involved with Congressman Randy Bristow at one point. That tidbit came from a contact of mine in the White House, who had seen the two up close and personal after a fundraiser. I asked her about a bunch of guys I doubted she’d screwed, then Bristow, and she denied it. No reason to, really—Bristow isn’t married, he can screw anyone he wants. But she cut me off, asked why I needed to know about her past sex life, she wasn’t on trial, yada yada.”

“You were fishing,” Lucy said.

“I’m damn good fisherman, sweetheart,” he said, grinning at her in the rearview mirror.

Noah jumped in. “And then you brought in the U.S. Attorney.”

“Information is power in this town, and that pretty little girl had access to a lot of information.”

“There was nothing on her computer,” Noah said.

“But you didn’t find her phone, did you? And she could have a laptop somewhere, or save everything to a disk. Maybe she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Maybe she was. Now she’s dead.”

Noah glanced over his shoulder as if warning Lucy to keep her mouth shut.

“Turning up dead right before a meet with the U.S. Attorney’s office?” Stein continued. “That tells me she knew something. Maybe she wasn’t the bad girl in this picture, but knew who was being naughty.”

Lucy’s irritation faded when the manner of death clicked into place. “The killer made her death look like attempted rape. Pulled down her shorts, but no penetration and no bruising on the inside of her thighs.”

Stein paled. “Well, I, uh, will leave those details to you.”

“Hear me out,” she continued. Stein pulled into a red zone near an office building only blocks from the Capitol complex. “Her death was odd, don’t you think, Noah? Strangled from behind. Little or no sexual gratification. And Josh said she lied about something she didn’t have to, and was scheduled to talk to the U.S. Attorney. Why was she killed now and not three weeks ago when the scandal first broke?”

“The theory makes sense,” Noah said, “but doesn’t it seem unwise on the killer’s part to kill her when she was an interested party in an ongoing investigation?”

“Not if the information she would have shared was criminally damaging,” Stein said.

Lucy couldn’t believe she and the bombastic agent were in agreement. “Desperate measures,” she said. “If he felt there was no other way to silence her. Maybe she couldn’t be bought off.”

“Speaking of buying her off,” Stein said, “I have my team going through her finances. That condo cost her far more than she’d make on a secretary’s salary. Might be she comes from a wealthy family, or maybe she just has a lot of men keeping her in style.” He laughed.

The two minutes Lucy had respected Josh Stein ended.

The three of them walked through the glass doors of a renovated corner office building. Part of the structure was reinforced marble—very likely the original structure—and part was completely new, made to blend in with the old. The result was surprisingly attractive.

Stein showed his badge to the guard and they were sent to the penthouse suite of offices where Devon Sullivan & Associates resided.

In the elevator, Stein said, “DSA is a medium-sized lobbying firm representing local governments, small unions, and private businesses, primarily in the tech industry. Their second-largest client in terms of dollars spent is a city in California—which happens to be in Alan Crowley’s district. See why the affair may not be so simple after all? Definitely an affair to remember.” He laughed at his own joke. Neither Lucy nor Noah joined in, but Stein didn’t notice.

Devon Sullivan greeted them when they stepped out of the elevator. She was attractive in both manner and dress. Mid-fifties, tastefully dyed dark blond hair, and hazel eyes behind purple Donna Spade glasses. Her red-rimmed eyes suggested she’d already heard about Wendy James’s murder.

“It’s so awful. Please, come to my office.”

She led them across the lobby, through glass double doors, and past her secretary. “Jeanie, please hold all calls for now.” She closed the door behind them.

Devon Sullivan’s office was as large as Wendy’s living room and just as contemporary, with a wide expanse of windows and lots of sparkling glass. The view looked down on one of the large roundabouts, and if Lucy stood just right, she could see half of the Capitol. One wall was a bookcase with numerous political biographies and larger legal tomes. A few pictures decorated the shelves, mostly of Devon Sullivan golfing or with clients, and one of her at a shooting range, framed with a small engraving, “Virginia State Trooper Widows & Orphans Charity Shoot-Out, 2008.”

Ms. Sullivan motioned for them to sit, and she took a position in front of her desk, not behind it. Lucy glanced at the desk, which was devoid of all papers except for closed file folders. A picture of two young boys sat in the corner. Children or grandchildren, Lucy couldn’t tell.

“I’m still trying to understand what happened. The press, as you know, never gets things completely right. But Wendy was murdered?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stein said. “I appreciate you making the time for us.” His tone was reserved and respectful, opposite of his earlier demeanor.

“Anything you need.”

“When news of the affair between Ms. James and Congressman Crowley first broke, I spoke to your office manager about her employment. He indicated that she’d worked here as a secretary for about two years.”

“Correct.”

“Were you concerned when she didn’t come in for work yesterday morning?”

Ms. Sullivan blinked rapidly, her eyes brimming with tears. “I fired Wendy last week.”

The information surprised all of them, but Josh Stein most of all. “When?” he asked brusquely.

“Tuesday morning. I would have fired her on Monday, but she called in sick. I think she knew. I didn’t have a choice—I don’t think she did anything wrong, but her judgment was flawed. My business is built solely on my reputation. Her situation had gotten out of control, and I had concerned clients. I gave her a very nice severance package, and a letter of recommendation.”

“What exactly did she do for you?”

“Mostly answered phones, greeted clients, made copies, and assisted with events. Wendy was very good at it.”

“Why did you feel the need to fire her?”

“Reputation,” she repeated.

“Did you know she was having an affair with Alan Crowley?”

“No. I would have told her to knock it off or leave. My staff knows how important image is in this business, when lobbying already has as bad a reputation as used-car salesmen and politicians. Truly, a few bad apples and we’re all condemned.”

“Could she have accessed sensitive information that she may have leveraged with Congressman Crowley or others?”

“Others?”

“We’re keeping a broad mind.”

“I suppose she could have accessed any of the files here, but most of our records are public, as required by law.”

“Did you, or anyone on your staff, ask Wendy James to unduly influence Alan Crowley or any other sitting member of the House of Representatives?”

Ms. Sullivan was taken aback by the question, and Lucy was surprised as well. Stein slipped it in smoothly, in the same tone and manner as his initial softball questions.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.

“Would you mind if I spoke to your staff?”

She hesitated, the first sign that she was nervous about something. It could be natural, stemming from the tragic situation, or it could be more calculating. Lucy wasn’t certain.

“Of course you may, but if it’s about my clients, I need to be present.”

“Just about Wendy, who she dated, if anyone knew about the affair.”

Devon Sullivan didn’t relax. “I suppose. When?”

“Now would be perfect,” Stein said.

“I’ll make the conference room available.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.

Stein grinned and said in a low voice, “I’m going to give Ms. Sullivan a rectal exam.”

“Excuse me?” Lucy said.

“You think a lobbyist like her didn’t know her secretary was doing the horizontal bop with a player like Crowley? Hell no.”

“Murder is a long way from political corruption,” Noah said.

Stein shrugged. “Maybe. Probably no connection. But you shouldn’t be surprised how fast people tell the truth when they think they’re facing more serious charges. Anything going on in this company, I’ll find it.” He glanced at his watch. “We still have time to catch Crowley at his office. Damn, I love my job.”

Lucy barely refrained from grimacing. Stein was too giddy about his work; she wondered if he cared anything about the victim—or if winning was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

They could easily have walked from DSA to the Capitol, but Stein insisted on driving even though it was close to five in the afternoon and the roads were crowded. It took him fifteen minutes to find a parking place—a white-zone reserved for Capitol Police.

He slid his official federal business placard on the dash and got out of the car, whistling.

Lucy decided that she didn’t care how smart Josh Stein was, or his case clearance rate, she did not like a man who whistled while investigating murder.

They walked toward Crowley’s office in the Rayburn building. “Josh,” Noah said, “I let you lead with the lobbyist, let me take the lead with Crowley.”

“I’m on a roll, Armstrong. Think I can’t handle a homicide investigation?”

“I think you’d be great, but you’ve been an agent how long? Fifteen years? How many homicides?”

Stein didn’t say anything.

“If you have a question, jump in, but if you don’t mind…” he let his comment hang.

Stein jerked his thumb toward Lucy. “Why’s she here again?”

“Slater wanted a forensic analyst.”

“Is she going to be asking questions? Slater told you we are under the gun. Every step watched by everyone, including press.”

“I understand exactly what we face.”

“Noah,” she began.

He shot her a look that told her to remain quiet. She was going to suggest she wait outside, knowing that Stein didn’t want her involved, and not wanting her presence to jeopardize the case—even though she didn’t know how that would happen.

She wished Noah had given her a better understanding of their role working with the White Collar division, as well as how he intended to question Congressman Crowley. She disliked the power plays between the two divisions, with the uncertainty of who was really in charge. And she didn’t like this side of Noah.

Lucy followed Noah and Stein through security, then upstairs where they were ushered immediately into Congressman Crowley’s private office.

Crowley had been in Congress for more than twenty-two years, withstanding several partisan shifts of power. His office was decorated with furniture that was a little too big for the space, including a tall glass cabinet packed with awards and trinkets. His desk was cluttered with three pen sets, paperweights, and a variety of odd items, many with gold plates identifying a place or event. Most of the photographs had Crowley in golf gear with people more famous than he.

Noah introduced the three of them.

Crowley said, “I spoke with your superior earlier today.”

“We have some follow-up questions. I’m sure you understand.”

“Why isn’t Agent Slater handling this? He told me he was in charge.” Crowley’s tone was offensive, but his posture was defensive—his body was turned a few degrees away from them, his hands bounced a pen off the desk blotter, his eyes went from agent to agent, then glanced at the door.

He was nervous.

“He’s the Supervisory Special Agent for the Violent Crimes and Major Offenders squad,” Stein said. “I’m his counterpart, the SSA for White Collar Crime and Political Corruption.”

Crowley’s face reddened. He dropped the pen. “I will answer questions about my relationship with Wendy, but you’re stretching to imply there was anything but a consenting adult relationship.”

“Your relationship with Ms. James is public record at this point,” Stein said. “We need to determine if there was anything inappropriate or illegal. It’s odd that she ends up dead three days before her scheduled meeting with the U.S. Attorney. What information might she have been wanting to share?”

So much for letting Noah take the lead, Lucy thought. She wanted to pull Stein aside and explain to him that anyone with basic understanding of psychology could see that Crowley considered himself a leader and wouldn’t be a pushover, just on the basis of what his office showed. His overabundance of awards and pictures was “name-dropping.” The best way to get him to cooperate would be to stroke his ego and let him think he was the one solving the case, all the while answering their very specific questions. Going on the attack right out of the gate was a big mistake.

Crowley leaned forward, both hands palm down on his desk. “I will tell you exactly what I told Agent Slater, since it’s obvious that your office doesn’t share information. I was in a committee meeting yesterday morning. The last time I saw Wendy was a week after the newspaper reported our affair. She called and wanted to meet at her apartment. I agreed to meet in public, at Dupont Circle. I brought my chief of staff with me, so no one could take pictures and accuse me of continuing the affair. We talked about nothing important because she was mad I brought Denise. We haven’t spoken since.”

He looked from Stein to Noah, then said, “I’m upset that she was killed, but her murder has nothing to do with me.”

“Sir,” Noah said, trying to settle him down, “we are simply trying to put together Ms. James’s movements over the last few days. If she ever indicated that someone was following her, maybe an ex-boyfriend she told you about, or—”

“If you have any specific questions, I will answer them through my lawyer.”

Stein said, “You understand that your refusal to cooperate makes you suspect.”

“You can leave now.”

They stood up and started toward the door. Lucy caught Noah’s eye. “Apartment?” she mouthed. He either ignored her or didn’t understand.

She turned around and faced Crowley. “Sir,” she said in her most diplomatic voice, “did you usually meet with Ms. James at her apartment?”

“My attorney,” he repeated without looking at her. He pretended to read a document on his desk, but his hands were shaking and he had to put the paper down. For a split second, she thought he was scared. Not that he might get caught at something, but maybe … was he scared someone was after him?

“Please, this is important. You must have cared about Wendy at one point.”

He looked at her, sorrow crossing his face for a split second, before his arrogance buried it. She implored him with her eyes, even though how he had handled the affair made her want to slap him.

“I truly did. We usually met at her apartment on Park Way.”

“Which apartment number?” she pretended to forget and flipped through blank pages in a notebook.

“Seven-ten. How does that help?” he asked, curious.

“Just fact-gathering, sir. Thank you.”

As soon as they were in the hall, Stein turned to Lucy and said, “What the hell were you doing? He cried uncle and you bat your eyes at him?”

“I did not,” she defended. “I needed to know where they met for sex. It was obvious to me it wasn’t in the apartment we walked this morning—and apartment seven-ten is not hers. It’s not even on the same floor.”

“Like you can tell after ten minutes in her apartment whether she brought men there? Why does it matter where they screwed?” Stein was livid. “I had Crowley panicked and asking for his lawyer, and you act like the good cop? You don’t even have a badge!”

Noah said, “Let’s take this outside.”

“I had this under control. If this case is blown, it’s on you, Armstrong. You brought Nancy Drew into this investigation.”

They stepped into the elevator. Noah gave a staff member a look that had the young man waiting for the next ride.

When the door closed, Noah said, “You pushed him too hard, too fast.”

“That’s how you have to deal with these people. They’re all guilty of something.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I’ve worked in political corruption for more than a decade, and I don’t care who it is, they’re all corruptible. Some easier than others.”

“But he’s not under investigation for political corruption, Josh! He’s a person of interest in a homicide. Once I clear him, you can do whatever you want, but for now, we focus on the murder of Wendy James.”

“And if they’re connected?”

“When we solve the murder, we’ll know.”

The elevator opened. Lucy followed behind the two men. Stein was on his phone and walked ahead. Noah still looked irritated.

“Noah,” Lucy said cautiously. “We need to check out apartment seven-ten. Remember how I said it didn’t look like she lived there? Maybe she doesn’t, not full-time.”

“You should have talked to me before questioning Crowley.”

“I tried—”

“We could get the information in other ways. It was already a tense situation.”

“That wasn’t my fault.” Why was Noah angry with her? She hadn’t gone into Crowley’s office on a rant. “Crowley is a classic power narcissist. He responds negatively to attacks, he needs to be praised and made to feel important, then you can get him to talk about anything.”

She hadn’t realized Stein overheard her comment. He snapped his phone off and said, “I understand politicians better than you, Kincaid. I’m not going to coddle them when I know in my gut they’re crooked, and I’m not going to play pop psychology games.”

Noah said, “Josh, I understand where you’re coming from, but right now you’re fishing on influence peddling. You have no evidence. On the other hand, we have a dead body and interviewing Crowley is part of the process. I need his statement.”

Stein shook his head. “I get it, Armstrong, but I stand by my approach. Now we wait and watch. He’ll do something to tip his hand, I guarantee it. And then maybe we’ll both get what we want—I’ll nail him for corruption, you get him for murder.”

“If he’s guilty,” Lucy said. She wanted to say, he’s not guilty, but didn’t want another argument, with Stein or Noah.

“He’s guilty of something.” Stein glanced at his watch. “Can you get a taxi back to your car? I have to get back to headquarters.” He left without waiting for an answer.

Lucy followed Noah, who was walking quickly and ignoring her. “Noah, wait,” she finally said. The heat made her hot and irritable.

He stopped under a tree near the sidewalk. “I know what you’re going to say. Josh Stein is an asshole. He’s impulsive and arrogant. But he’s also my superior, and yours.” He added under his breath, “It’s my fault.” He started walking again, but Lucy stopped him.

“Noah, what did I do?” Her heart was racing and she began to panic that she’d overstepped. “I’m sorry I said anything to the congressman, but I was only thinking about what we’d been talking about earlier, that maybe Wendy James has another place. And we confirmed it!”

“I planned on coming back to talk to Crowley without Stein.”

“I didn’t know.” She felt foolish, but wished Noah had given her a clue to his plans.

“I’ve given you a lot of slack these last two months, but that can’t continue. This case is far too complicated and high-profile.”

“I haven’t jeopardized anything, have I?” She couldn’t imagine what she’d said or done that would put a conviction at risk.

“Not yet.” Noah flagged down a taxi and opened the door for Lucy.

She slid into the cab.

Not yet.

Which meant he expected her to screw up.

* * *

It was after six by the time Noah and Lucy arrived back at Wendy James’s apartment. Noah was on the phone the entire drive, talking to an analyst about property records. Apartment 710 was owned by the corporation that managed the condo and two floors down from Wendy’s official residence, 910.

The manager let them in. “I don’t think Wendy ever used this place,” Betty Dare said. “It’s leased for short-term stays—less than a month.”

“Do you have the printout of who’s leased it in the past year?” Noah asked.

She handed him a folder.

Noah glanced through it. “These are businesses.”

“Yes—they will lease the place for staff who are coming into the city to testify, sometimes staying a week, sometimes longer.”

Lucy held her hand out. “I can go through them tonight.”

Noah didn’t give her the file. “We have a well-staffed office, Lucy. You don’t have to volunteer for everything.”

Ms. Dare hesitated, then handed Noah the key. “If you can lock up and return the key on your way out?”

“Of course.”

After the manager left, Lucy looked around.

The place was lavishly decorated with expensive, durable furniture befitting a high-end lease. Leather couch, plush carpet, granite in the kitchen, and a fifty-inch television on the wall. A plethora of plants made the place appear homey, but upon closer inspection, Lucy realized they were silk. The refrigerator had two unopened bottles of white wine and long-shelf-life barrel cheese. The kitchen cabinets included unopened packages of crackers and a wide array of alcohol. There were plates, glasses, utensils, all clean.

“Looks standard,” Noah said.

“With food and drink?”

“For executives who come in after hours—hotels do it.”

“Something seems—off.”

“Maybe Wendy didn’t want to bring Crowley into her apartment. Nosy neighbor, maybe she had a boyfriend.” Noah added, “We got nothing from the neighbors earlier, but we should follow up now that it’s after six.”

Lucy was only half-listening to Noah. She stared at a discolored strip of molding along the ceiling. There was a dark mark near the edge that caught her attention.

She pulled over a chair from the dining area and put it against the wall. As soon as she got closer to the molding, she saw that it was loose. The smudge appeared to be grease. She wiggled the piece and realized it was on a hinge.

“What are you doing?” Noah asked.

“There’s a hidey-hole here.”

“Hidey-hole?” Noah sounded amused.

Lucy pushed up and the little door snapped off. “Sorry,” she said.

“Lucy, I’ll bring a team in—”

“It’s wires. Lots of them. The space is only four inches wide. A building like this would have a separate room for its wiring.” Lucy handed Noah the broken door. “This molding is different than the rest. It’s PVC, not wood.”

She stepped off the chair and led the way into the bedroom. She saw the same slightly off-color strip of molding.

Her instincts buzzed that she’d discovered something important. “Look—same thing here.”

“Let me do it this time,” Noah said. He brought over a chair and used it as a step stool to stand on the dresser. “There’s definitely a door here.” He tapped in several locations and suddenly a door sprang up. “And I didn’t break it,” he said, grinning.

He shined a flashlight into the hole. “Empty. But something was definitely here. There’re outlets.”

“Outlets inside the wall?”

“What’s on the backside of this wall?”

Lucy walked around and opened the door. “A linen closet. There are sheets, towels, toiletries.”

“Eight feet deep?”

She eyeballed it. “It’s about three feet wide and four feet deep.”

“This section of wall is over eight feet.”

Noah jumped down.

Lucy knew exactly what he was thinking. Her heart pounded as she took the linens and two loose shelves from the closet. Behind the sheets was an obvious “hidden” panel.

Wires in the walls and ceiling, in the bedroom and living room, an apartment with no owner, where a congressman met with his mistress—sex tapes. Lucy’s face flushed as she fumbled with the panel.

Don’t panic! Dammit, this is your job.

She took a deep breath. Forced the memories back. Hot and cold flashes washed over her skin as snippets of her past assaulted her. The video camera with its mocking red light, reminding her that everyone who paid could watch her, tied naked to the floor. The pain and humiliation and the despair.

She had wanted to die.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

She repeated the mantra. If she didn’t look at the past, she could forget it, at least for now.

She didn’t want to break down. Not ever, but especially not in front of Noah.

“Do you need help?” Noah stood right behind her.

“I got it.”

His voice reminded Lucy that no one was videotaping her. She was with a friend, a colleague, a mentor. She was safe.

But deep down she felt a nightmare coming on, and wished with all her heart that Sean was back from Sacramento. Sean kept the nightmares away; he made her feel safe when nothing else could.

His unconditional love healed her.

She didn’t dare let on that this case disturbed her. Not to Noah, and especially not to Sean. Sean would quit his assignment in California and fly back to DC, jeopardizing his reputation and career, just because this case was stirring up memories that might lead to bad dreams.

You’re a big girl, Lucy. You have to deal with life on your own.

“Lucy.”

It was Noah. How long had she been standing there, bent over the shelf, fumbling with the panel?

“Sorry, mind wandering.”

She swallowed, breathed deeply again, and pushed on the corner of the panel.

It swung open, much bigger than she thought, and hit her on the head.

“Ow, shit!” She jumped back, bumping up against Noah. She rubbed her forehead, came away with a small drop of blood.

“Are you okay?” he turned her around and inspected her forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a bump.” She pulled off her right glove. “I don’t have another pair of gloves.”

“Don’t touch anything.” He eyed her closely. “You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” But she smiled. He could have made the situation even more awkward than it was, but Noah was a professional, and she needed that more than ever.

They traded places. “There’s a light switch back here.” He flipped it on.

A tiny, narrow room—carpeted along the walls—had been built behind the linen closet. It was three feet wide and about five feet long—two people might have been able to stand side by side, but it would have been a tight fit. Outlets, plugs, evidence of a full-tech operation was here, but no equipment.

“She was recording Crowley,” Lucy said, almost in disbelief.

“Recording him without his knowledge? That sounds like blackmail.”

“No wonder he was defensive.”

“She was involved publicly with other congressmen as well,” Noah said. “That’s what got Stein’s panties in a wad—and he might have been right.” He pulled out his phone. “I have to call in cyber crime for this one.”

“Wireless,” Lucy said. “It would have been easy to set up. But then, why would she need this room? Why not use her own apartment?”

“We’re going to find out. I wonder if the manager knows? Call her up, Lucy.”

Ten minutes later, Noah showed Betty Dare the hidden room. She stared, a stunned expression on her face. “I had no idea,” she said repeatedly.

“I need to seal off this room, it’s a potential crime scene, and we’ll contact the owners.”

“I—yes—of course.”

Lucy felt bad for the flustered manager. “This isn’t your fault,” she said. “There are over one hundred units in this building? Sixty-seven owned, thirty long-term leases, a dozen executive leases?”

Betty looked surprised. “You have a good memory.”

She shrugged. “That’s a lot of people for one person to manage. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Lucy,” Noah said, “go home. I have to wait for the team to arrive.”

“I can wait with you.”

“Sean still in Sacramento?”

She nodded.

“Weren’t you going to give Ms. James’s cat temporary housing?”

“Yes, but—”

“Go. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”