“And you think he might connect our work?” Wiley asked.
“We’re already connected. The editors sorted that, but I wonder what your network wants from the Harcourts.”
“Yes,” Wiley said.
I added another dot to my sketch. This one was inside the floor plan.
“We have two to build around,” I said. “Henry and the stranger.”
No one argued.
I checked my phone again. Still nothing.
“Wiley, when Eamon gives us the go-ahead to connect again, I want you to search for any connections between HenryHarcourt Benton and Onyx Bay. If you find an overlap, that’s our foundation.”
Wiley nodded.
“Farrow.”
“Yes.”
“You’re with Wiley. I’m with Cabot. Inside the house, we cover each other’s blind spots. Outside, we don’t separate the principals further than line of sight.”
“Joint coordination,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You’re getting better at this, Dane.”
“Don’t.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Reed appeared at the parlor doorway.
“Fletcher.”
“What?”
“I looked through the peephole, front door. Across the street. He’s been there ninety seconds.”
Farrow was at the shutters before I’d finished turning. He found a gap between the slat and the casing and looked.
“Dark coat,” he said. “No phone or dog.”
“Build?” I asked.
“Average.”
Cabot stood and joined Farrow.
I didn’t have to ask.
“That’s him,” he said.
Chapter six
Farrow