Finn walked Hope Adams to the front desk and thanked her for her time. As he watched her leave, he saw Damon on the front steps. So much for following Marsten.

"Lost him?"

Damon turned, startled. "Ah-ha. Now you're the one sneaking up on me. Payback's a bitch, huh?" His words were light, but no humor reached his eyes.

"I thought I asked you to follow him," Finn said under his breath.

"I did. He went outside."

"I meant follow him wherever – "

"I did."

He pointed. Finn followed his finger to see Marsten striding over to meet Adams, thirty feet from the precinct steps.

"That's as far as he went," Damon continued. "He made three phone calls. For the first two, no one must have

answered because he seemed to be leaving a message. I got as close as I could, but with the noise out here, I didn't hear much. He's one guy who lowers his voice on a cell, instead of raising it, and while I'd normally appreciate such consideration, it really didn't help for eavesdropping."

Finn watched Adams and Marsten. His hand rested on her back, rubbing it. Reassuring her again, as he had in the interview room.

"You said he made a third call?" Finn prompted.

"Someone answered and they talked for a few minutes. It sounded like business. If you'd like me to speculate on what kind of business..."

"Go for it," Finn said, still watching the distant couple.

"My guess is he called his lawyer. There was some definite legalese going on. As for what, I can probably speculate on that, too..."

Finn motioned for him to get on with it.

"I don't know Karl that well. He'd only been dating Hope for a few months before I got shot, and I could tell he was never going to be hanging out on my couch, chugging beer, watching the game. But I got a decent feel for the guy. He acts smooth, but he's hard as nails. Guys like Karl know their rights and they don't give an inch, innocent or not. He'd contact his lawyer to find out what his obligation is, and he'll give you that much, no more. Anything remotely approaching harassment? You'll be talking to his lawyer. And if he thinks you're harassing her – " He nodded to Adams. "Watch out. That's not a guy you want to cross."

Marsten had straightened and was scanning the street, as if looking for a taxi. He glanced toward the steps. Their eyes met. Adams turned, following his gaze. She said something. Marsten shook his head and responded.

"What did they talk about earlier?" Finn asked.

"Hmm?"

"When I left the room to make those calls. What did they say?"

"Nothing."

He turned to Damon. "She just found out Robyn hadn't turned herself in. They had to say – "

"Zip. They aren't stupid, Finn. They knew that room was wired for sound. When you left, Karl told her not to worry, he was sure it was a mistake. She leaned over and said something. He nodded. End of conversation. And what she said, I'm sure, is 'Watch it, that detective could be listening.' "

Adams and Marsten were walking away now, ignoring passing taxis, presumably heading to a parked car.

"So do you think your wife lost her nerve?" Finn asked. "Couldn't turn herself in?"

He blinked his worry away, then said, softly, "No."

"Neither do they."

Finn headed down the steps.

"Where are you going?" Damon called.

"Wherever they are."

HOPE

A necromancer?" Karl said as they got into the car.

"That's what I was trying to say in the interview room, when I said we shouldn't talk. I'm sure there was a microphone, but I also think Detective Findlay had another kind of listening device. A ghost."

"So he's a necromancer."

She nodded. "I caught the warning vision when we met Findlay in the hall, but it was so weak it took me a while to figure out his type. Even then, because it was weak, I thought it was someone else in the building. I picked up mild chaos vibes when I got in the room, and I caught a few snippets of his thoughts, enough to tell me what was bothering him. Me. My job."

"A reporter."

"A paranormal investigative reporter."

"Ah." Karl pulled from the parking lot.

"The third and final clue? He kept glancing toward the door."

"I noticed that. I thought he was expecting a partner to join us."

"So did I. But he was looking a little too long, like he was watching or listening. I've spent enough time with Jaime Vegas to recognize that look – a necromancer with a ghost in the room. Like when Eve's around – Jaime can't help looking her way, listening to her. She's better at hiding it than he is, though."

"So we have a necromancer homicide detective assigned to Portia Kane's murder? A murder involving the Nast Cabal?"

"I agree. When there's a Cabal involved, there's no such thing as coincidence."

"Your mind-reading skills are improving."

"No, just my Karl-reading skills."

He checked the mirrors. "So what else am I thinking?"

"That Detective Findlay is a plant. A legitimate homicide detective, but on the Cabal payroll. When the call came in, the Cabal pulled strings, and he got the case. That means we need to find Robyn, and if she hasn't turned herself in yet, stop her before she does." She stopped. "Shit. He has our names. Our real names."

"Not much we could have done about that. He found yours and I wasn't taking any chances with an alias. My record is clean – "

"I mean, if he reports our names to the Nasts, and they run them against their database, we're going to pop up. So I need to warn the council. Right now, though, my main concern is Robyn. Between placing that call and getting to the station, something happened."

"It's probably just a mix-up. But we'll make sure of that, obviously. I placed a few calls while I was waiting for you

– one to the motel and one to our hotel, in case she did back out and went there." Another mirror check. "I also called Lucas, and he's going to contact all the precincts, as Robyn's legal representative, claiming she wanted to turn herself in alone and was supposed to phone him once she had. He'll say he hasn't heard from her, so he's calling around, seeing whether she went to the wrong one."