Chapter 12: The Petition

I stared at the screen, and Quincy took the phone gently out of my hand.

"Don't answer him," he said. "He's coming."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what a man does when he thinks he owns something."

He pulled his T-shirt back on and went to the intercom by the door.

"Front desk, a man named Colin Fairweather will arrive in twenty minutes."

His voice was calm. "Don't let him up. Keep him in the lobby and keep the cameras running."

I couldn't hear the reply.

"I'll be down in ten," Quincy said.

"I'm coming with you."

"You're staying up here."

"He's my husband."

"That's why." He touched my cheek. "You've done enough tonight. Let me do the next part."

I sat on the white sofa with my knees pulled up, listening to the elevator hum.

Then I went to the stairwell door and crept down to the mezzanine.

A glass rail there looked onto the lobby.

Colin stood at the front desk in his gray coat.

His hair was wild. He had thrown on a sweater over his pajama shirt.

"She's up there," he was saying to the doorman. "My wife. Her phone is in this building. Let me up."

"Sir, I can't."

"That's illegal."

"What's illegal," said Quincy, "is tracking an adult woman's phone without telling her."

Colin spun around.

Quincy had come out of the elevator in his T-shirt and bare feet.

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