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“Don’t.”

His expression stays composed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

We continue walking. The rest of the distance is only a few minutes, but I am acutely aware of the space between us now.

The archive building is dark except for the security lighting in the lobby. My access credentials still work after hours, and the guard at the desk recognizes my name from the temporary authorization list.

“I only need ten minutes,” I tell him.

The guard nods.

“No problem, Ms. Wilson.”

Ross follows me through the secured doors. I look back at him.

“You actually are coming inside?”

“I said I’d walk you.”

“That usually means to the door.”

“Not with you.”

I exhale.

“Of course not.”

The upper floor is nearly silent at this hour. Only the corridor lights are on, leaving the research rooms dim behind their glass walls.

I lead the way toward the room we used earlier, trying to remember exactly where I left the folio.

“It should be in here,” I say.

Ross follows me inside.

I switch on one of the desk lamps rather than the overhead lights.

The room takes on a softer glow.

My folio is not on the table.

“Perfect,” I mutter.

“Where else were you working?” Ross asks.

“The viewing room.”

“We were there after this.”

“I know.”

I turn toward the adjoining corridor.

Ross follows.