They returned to Vesper before dawn.

Sienna objected for eight straight minutes.

Nico ignored seven and a half of them.

“You said someone might be inside,” she whispered as they entered through the secured kitchen.

“Yes.”

“And bringing me here seemed intelligent?”

“I wanted you somewhere else.”

“I refused.”

“Repeatedly.”

“Then stop complaining.”

Nico gave her a look.

“Stay behind me.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Sienna.”

“Fine.”

Marco joined them near the office.

The restaurant looked almost normal except for the damaged paneling.

Sienna saw her missing shoe beside table nine.

“There she is.”

Nico stared at her.

“Seriously?”

“That shoe cost eighty dollars.”

She retrieved it.

Marco opened Elliot’s office.

Nothing appeared disturbed.

Then Sienna noticed something.

“The reservation book.”

“What about it?” Nico asked.

“It’s wrong.”

Marco frowned.

“It’s a book.”

“Exactly. Elliot hated paper. He complained every time management printed anything.”

She picked it up.

A folded note fell out.

Nico reached for it.

Sienna got there first.

“It has my name.”

She unfolded it.

Sienna—if you have the card, I’m sorry. I had no one else. You notice people nobody else notices. Trust what you remember. E.C.

Sienna reread it.

Nico looked at her.

“He chose you because of your memory.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You recognized Rusk after serving him once.”

“Because he tipped six percent.”

Marco muttered, “Apparently financial crimes are less memorable than bad tipping.”

Sienna opened the reservation book.

Several dates were circled.

“I worked all of these.”

Nico leaned closer.

“So did Crane.”

“And Damian.”

She suddenly remembered.

“No.”

“What?”

“There was another man.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name. Older. Gray hair. Always ordered sparkling water.”

Marco showed her photographs from Nico’s organization.

She stopped at one.

“Him.”

Marco went silent.

Nico’s face hardened.

“Victor Hale.”

Sienna looked at him.

“Important?”

“He runs my hotel division.”

The room became quiet.

Sienna understood.

“You trusted him.”

“For twelve years.”

Marco checked the files.

“There are transfers tied to Hale.”

A noise came from the kitchen.

Everyone froze.

Nico moved first.

But Sienna heard something else.

Three soft knocks.

Pause.

Two more.

She recognized the rhythm.

“Wait.”

Nico looked at her.

“Elliot.”

“How do you know?”

“He always knocked on the kitchen counter like that when he wanted coffee.”

A weak voice came from behind the pantry door.

“Sienna?”

She rushed forward.

Nico caught her arm.

“Slowly.”

They opened the door.

Elliot Crane sat on the floor.

His shirt was dirty. A clean makeshift dressing was wrapped around his side. He was pale but conscious.

Sienna crouched.

“Oh my God.”

Elliot looked at Nico.

“I assume she found it.”

“She did,” Nico said.

Elliot closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Sienna’s anger surfaced.

“You put a target in my apron!”

“I thought they were following me.”

“They were!”

“I know.”

Nico crouched opposite him.

“Who?”

Elliot looked directly at him.

“Victor Hale.”

Nico became perfectly still.

“He’s been selling access for almost two years.”

“To Rusk?” Marco asked.

Elliot nodded.

“But the card contains enough records to expose both of them.”

Sienna stared at him.

“Why me?”

Elliot gave a tired smile.

“Because nobody sees waitresses.”

Her expression changed.

“They see you,” Elliot continued, “but they don’t notice you. You notice them.”

Nico looked at Sienna.

Elliot added, “And because you’re the only person I knew who wasn’t connected to any of them.”

Sienna stood.

“Well, congratulations. I’m extremely connected now.”

Nico almost smiled.

Then Elliot said something that erased it.

“Hale knows she has the card.”

“How?”

“He saw me bump into her.”

Sienna’s stomach dropped.

Nico stood.

“We move now.”

Elliot grabbed his sleeve.

“No. There’s something else.”

“What?”

“The card isn’t the evidence.”

Marco frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the key.”

“To what?”

Elliot looked at Sienna.

“The real files are hidden somewhere only she can find.”

Sienna blinked.

“Me?”

Elliot nodded.

“I left you the answer.”

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

She stared at him.

Then remembered one strange conversation.

Elliot sitting alone after closing.

A coffee.

A receipt.

And one sentence she had thought was a joke.

Sienna whispered it now.

“Always check the table nobody wants.”

Nico frowned.

“What table?”

Sienna turned toward the dining room.

“Table thirteen.”

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