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She assumed he was satisfied when he finally stuck the instrument into the pack, picked up the cases and opened the hatch to place all the luggage inside.

Reese followed more slowly, and settled herself in the passenger seat.

Buckled her seat belt. She wished now that she’d returned to work rather than closing herself up in the cabin.

It would have provided a buffer between her and Moreland.

If you’re not moving forward, you’re standing still.

Frozen in time, trapped in the amber of the past. Julia’s voice sounded in her mind, and Reese hissed out a frustrated breath.

Her aunt could never have been accused of coddling, but her observation skills weren’t limited to her time behind the camera .

Was picking up her aunt’s project on Ben just a distraction from deciding about the book? Maybe. But one certainly couldn’t accuse her of trading an unpleasant choice for a kinder one. She already knew that raking through old family history wouldn’t be an emotional cake walk.

Hayes laid his cell on the center console, turned it on and re-opened its GPS app. While he backed out of the space, Reese stole a glance at the dashboard clock. San Diego had a steady traffic flow, but if they timed it right, they’d get there and back before rush hour began.

“The map shows we’re heading into a historic area, right? I’ve never been to San Diego before. But I appreciate old architecture.”

“You’ll see some there.” Hopefully, that was all he’d observe at Habersham, Erb, and Naismith. Because the only thing more distasteful than plunging into her older brother’s affairs was to do so in front of a stranger.

Even one who had saved her life.

They spent the drive in silence, until Hayes turned on the radio, changing the channel from her usual pop station and settling on one featuring 80s rock.

Because she couldn’t argue with the choice, she leaned her head back and used the ride to check for any updates from Julia’s attorney.

And to think through what she was going to say to Gerald Rivers, Esquire—the man who’d overseen the trust designed to care for the brother she hadn’t seen for over two decades.

The same man Julia had visited shortly before her death.

Reese’s hope of leaving Hayes behind was thwarted when he pulled into a postage stamp-sized lot next to their destination.

He paused before the chain across its entrance where a parking attendant was housed in a minuscule flimsy shelter.

The man looked as if he’d been there since the nearby Victorian structure was built. Hayes buzzed down his window.

“These spaces are reserved for clients of Habersham, Erb, and Naismith and Go-Go Fitness.”

“Guessing those businesses herald from different generations.”

Reese leaned forward to smile at the guard. “Reese Decody for Gerald Rivers, at the law firm.”

He ran a gnarled fingertip down a sheet in front of him. “You have a one-thirty.” He moved from the hut at a speed a snail could lap and unhooked the chain before waving them through. “Watch the reserved spaces. Can’t park in them even if they’re empty.”

There were only two unoccupied spots, and Hayes pulled into one as Reese unhooked her seat belt and grabbed the bag at her feet. “This shouldn’t take long. You can wait out here.”

“There’s zero chance of that.” He turned off the SUV and snatched up the keys. “We’ve been over this. I’ll accompany you to the attorney’s office and wait outside it while you conduct your business.”

Arguing would have been futile. At least he’d leave her some semblance of privacy.

It was more than she’d get once they returned to the apartment.

Resigned, Reese exited the car, purse in hand.

Hayes paused at the rear of the vehicle and she stopped, puzzled, when he pointed the fob at the Hyundai and clicked it.

He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a weapon she hadn’t been aware he was carrying.

He placed it inside a small gun safe and locked it, then took out the backpack and slung it over one shoulder.

Relocking the SUV, Hayes led the way to the building.

The lobby was a throwback to an earlier century, with soaring tin ceilings, heavy moldings, and faded murals. Two security guards, a generation younger than the parking attendant, peeled away from their stations and approached them.

“Bags on the table, please. Keys and other metal objects in the container.” They were wanded and their belongings pawed through. “The law firm is the entire fourth floor.”

Reese readjusted her bag to her shoulder and waited for Hayes to replace the computer in the backpack and gather the keys and loose change from his pockets.

A pair of bird cage elevators with ornate grilles waited across the lobby, each flanked with a gleaming mahogany stairway that curled to the upper floors.

Without explanation, she headed to one of them.

Her appreciation of the building’s culture didn’t extend to willingly walking into a deathtrap, antique or not.

The building was hushed as they ascended, little sound emanating until they reached the third floor, which housed the fitness club.

A bit small, in Reese’s estimation, the rows of modern machines looking out of place with the old brick walls and exposed ductwork.

Music pumped out of it, the strains muted, as if in deference to its surroundings.

On the fourth floor they found themselves in another lobby, much smaller and less ornate than the one downstairs, but outfitted with period pieces that could be part of the structure’s original furnishings.

A young woman sat behind a desk squarely in the center of the space, wearing an earpiece, her fingers flying over the computer keyboard situated before her.

Reese approached her, waiting for the woman to glance up before saying, “Reese Decody to see Mr. Rivers.”

“Please make yourself comfortable.” The woman gave her an emotionless smile, one that warmed considerably when it landed on Hayes. “I’ll let Mr. Rivers know you’re here. Can I get the two of you something to drink? I have coffee, water, and tea, although I may be able to scrape up a diet soda.”

When they both declined, she rose and walked swiftly across an enormous aged Oriental rug to one of the closed office doors that encircled the space like spokes. After a brief knock, she disappeared.

“You have to appreciate the efforts taken to maintain the integrity of the building.” Hayes sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs.

The jacket he wore was unnecessary. It was in the sixties and sunny, underscoring San Diego’s best selling point.

She assumed he’d selected it to conceal his now-empty holster.

“And the cash.” Class and elegance whispered in the glittering chandeliers and gilt-edged mirrors. Tasteful landscapes with heavily carved oak frames hung on the walls. The only hint of this century was the computer on the assistant’s desk.

The woman appeared again. “Mr. Rivers will see you now.”

True to his word, Hayes didn’t budge when Reese stood. She shouldered her bag, and surreptitiously wiped her damp palms on the front of her navy slacks. Her brother had been locked away since she was seven. His absence from her life had always been a relief.

But she was about to meet one of his gatekeepers.