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“Leave the room without moving.”

Her fingers tighten around the cup then closes her eyes for a second, making it clear she has no intention of explaining this.

“So,” she says finally. “Why are we here?”

I set the cups down carefully. “Why don’t you sleep?”

That gets a reaction, her eyes snap to mine. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

“I already did.”

She studies me, irritated and defensive. “This is about the case,” she says. “Not my insomnia.”

“I was under the impression the two were connected."

She leans back, tilting her head. “Are you always this annoying, Mister Caldwell?”

“Only happens when people avoid answering simple questions.”

She exhales through her nose and smiles. “Let’s talk about the case. Why me?”

The corner of my mouth lifts at her sarcastic tone when I reply, “You’re observant, stubborn and could be really helpful with this thing.”

“I need more details,” she says, serious now.

“Someone died working this case.” She looks confused for a second when I say it. “He thought he was close,” I continued. “But he died before finding out who that bastard is.”

“That’s why you won’t let it go,” she says.

“Yes.”

“And now you want me involved.”

“If you agree to work on this with me,” I start, “you lose the option to pretend that you know nothing of this case. You don’t get to tell anyone. You don’t write anything down. And you accept that this could end your career before it starts.”

“Okay, what else should I know?”

“Give me your phone, I’ll add my number, put yours in mine.” I take my phone out and slide it across the table. She hands me hers as I type my number there and give it back.

“Rules,” I add, before she can touch it. “No confidential files, or system access. You’re not officially affiliated with anything yet.”

She arches her brow as she tilts her head. “Yet.”

A quiet laugh escapes me and I shake my head. “You’re confident.”

“No,” she says, wrapping both her hands around the phone. “It’s realistic.”

For a second, I find myself looking at her longer than necessary, then her eyes meet mine and I look away before continuing, “If this happens, it happens clean. Until then, you observe, you analyze.”

“And I don’t act.”

“No.”

Her phone is still in my hand as I type my number. Before I can save the contact, she reaches across the table and takes it back. Without a word, she enters her own number into my phone instead, then slides it toward me.

“Done.”

The smile on her face is intriguing when she finishes typing on her phone. Before I can stop myself, I reach across the table and take her phone from her hand.