Dalton was waiting for me when I exited the elevator on Haithem's floor. He had a habit of doing this, and I couldn't figure out how he knew when I was coming. I'd started making it a game, varying when I'd leave and return, but he always seemed to know.
"The security desk calls you, don't they?" I said, as the doors closed behind me.
"Never mind. What do you have for me on Keeney?" I'd sent Dalton a text message while I was eating lunch, asking him to get as much detail about James Keeney's most recent incarceration, and the death of Sarah Mathews Bridgeton. We started walking the long hall to Haithem's office. I still couldn't call it my office. I knew he'd be back, but for now, it was better if people believed he was dead. At least, that's what he and Patrick Murphy, my -- shit, I don't even know what to call him -- believed.
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