The next day, the rain came down in sheets.

A black van rolled to a slow stop beneath Rowan Group.

The driver circled to the back and opened the door. Francesca stepped out under a black umbrella. The rain was too heavy—her shoulder darkened almost instantly, a small patch soaked through.

Laura had been waiting beside the car.

She led Francesca all the way to the top-floor office, poured her tea, and said softly, "Mr. Hale is in a ...