The Offices of Thalia Trimble, Private Eye - vol 1

Arthur Fisher stares at you in disbelief for quite some time. He crane his neck upward and shakes his head as if asking god ‘how did I end up in this situation?’ Arthur takes a very deep breath and starts to explain.

"Question 1: Nope. You must be pretty green into doing work with Lloyd Laboratories if you think that is an option. You keep at it awhile and you’ll get used to always acting like others are listening in. This your car, rental, or stolen? Nevermind, probably doesn’t matter. Just keep driving and I’ll tell you what I know. I don’t really have anything to lose and maybe you’ll show me some pity.

"I take it your Thalia Trimble? Your second and third questions are more or less related and revolve around all the trouble you’ve been stirring up lately. Good news, you have Martha Bradford scared. The bad news; she really wants you dead.

"Ivanvoich wants the unlocked version of Project AB745XR. My sonic weapon device. That’s what Bradford originally promised him when his services were contracted and what I refuse to give to him. I designed this device for top level government use. I wanted it to be a deterrent and in worst case scenarios, something to pacify criminals who were beyond redemption. I will not intentionally hand it over to a dangerous criminal.

"Bradford messed up bad when she hired Ivanovich. She thought she was getting someone who wouldn’t question her when she told them to get their hands dirty. She ended up with one pissed off psychopath who feels cheated and won’t hesitate to tear all of our heads off to get what he feels he is owed.

"Bradford only cares about covering her tracks at this point. She could not care less who gets hurt along the way. She sent me over here to meet with Ivanovich. I was supposed to tell him exactly what materials his people would need to procure in order to start producing the unhampered version of the weapon. She hoped I could convince him to take you out in order to protect all of us." He rolls his eyes. "It was purely a stall tactic in my opinion. Ivanovich seemed to think so as well and thought it was a better idea to beat the process for creating the device out of me. I believe I was able to resist... I, uh, blacked out a lot, but I feel like he would have stopped if I gave him what he wanted. Right?

"I know you lump me in with all the other scum and villainy at Lloyd and maybe you're right... but for what it is worth, I’m sorry my creation was used against you."

You do not pick up on any indication that Arthur is lying. You feel like he is yet another individual that is in over his head and is just trying to stay afloat. He sounds tired and completely done with all the the scheming and games. You feel like he views himself as a pawn in the Lloyd Laboratories chess match and that he wants nothing more than to return to his lab and work.

Thalia snorts as Arthur says she must be "pretty green." "Yeah, I just found you hanging upside down, bound and gagged, in a hitman's closet, Artie. You don't get to imply that I'm naive, okay? And for the record, I'm not working with or for Lloyd Laboratories. My client is Andrew Lawson, no matter who is paying my fee. And yes, this is my car."

She nods when he asks if she's Thalia Trimble. She smirks when he mentions Martha Bradford's desire for her death, but that's just bravado. There's nothing she really finds funny about someone wanting her dead, and especially if that someone has access to a guy like Ivanovich.

Arthur's steadfast refusal to hand over the unlocked version of his sonic weapon design actually wins her respect. She'd bet her life that such a level of integrity is in such short supply at Lloyd Labs as to be functionally extinct.

His apology for his weapon having been used against her catches her off-guard. "I... thanks. But you weren't the one calling the shots, so I... guess I don't really hold you responsible. Those weapons weren't even supposed to exist anyway."

She's silent for a moment, trying to think of a place to go, when an important question comes to mind. "Hang on - you said you wouldn't give him the unhampered version of the weapon, which is what Bradford sent you to do. What did you talk about with Ivanovich? I mean, before he turned you into a closet ornament? Did you deliver the instruction to kill Thalia Trimble? Am I on his radar by name?"

"I didn’t exactly get to do a lot of talking. When Ivanovich was contracted the deal was that we’d give him the knowledge needed to build the device. His people would build it, turn a handful over to Bradford, and keep the rest for themselves. When he discovered that the limiter was still on the device, after production was already complete, he was less than thrilled.

"I intended on groveling. Telling him how it was all a big mistake and explaining exactly what materials he would need to purchase so we could set to work on getting a batch of unhampered devices made. He didn’t want to hear any of it. He only wanted detailed instructions for the device. I tried telling him it was much to complicated and I would need to walk his men through it... He decided he would take the information by force. At no point was your name mentioned."

For a moment you are able to take a breath of relief. Just one moment, however. "But I have no doubt Ivanovich knows who you are and what you’re looking into. The fact that you’re not dead already tells me that he either doesn’t view you as a threat or has a good reason to delay taking you out."

He says all of this in a very matter of fact tone. There is no malice meant behind it. Exhaustion and a depleted ability to continue to cope with this type of life has beaten Arthur into submission. He keeps going through the motions but he talks like he is dead inside.

Recognizing that Arthur is losing psychic cohesion, Thalia moderates her tone of voice. "Hey. Arthur, stay with me. I'm gonna get you to safety, okay? Do me a favor and reach into that glove box. I keep a bottle of water in there and some emergency candy bars. I think you could use some hydration and a blood sugar boost."

Arthur listlessly obeys. He takes a few more seconds to get the cap off the bottle than one would expect from an adult, but once he starts drinking, it's like his body says, Oh right, water is IMPORTANT, and he drinks a third of the bottle in a single pull. He hands are slightly steadier when he opens the wrapper of the Milky Way.

"Okay, I need some specific information that you can probably provide, Arthur." She fishes out her pager and shows it to him. "Kate Lawson gave me this. I have no idea if it's standard Lloyd Labs issue or something unique to her personal security team. What can you tell me about it?"

Arthur leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes as he chews the candy bar. You give him the necessary time to finish eating the whole thing. It doesn’t take him too long. He takes another deep breath and you are satisfied to hear his rate of breath generally returning to a normal pattern.

He looks over at the pager Kate Lawson gave you and laughs. "Yeah, I think I can tell you about that. I created it back before I was a member of Bradford’s team and I was actually allowed to do my job without having to jump through jungles of red tape.

"When Kate read the first report I submitted for the project she called me into her office. We went over what I hoped to accomplish with the project. Namely a quick and easy way to sweep for surveillance. Kate surprised me by handing over top level blueprints to dozens of Lloyd Laboratories surveillance tech. She made it very clear that the device should be able to detect everything Lloyd was producing without fail.

"Naturally, she killed the project when I delivered a prototype that could do just that. She thanked me for my work, had me turn over all documentation for the project, and allowed me to select whatever I wanted to work on next. Even gave me twice the budget I normally had.

"The pager is capable of detecting all routine surveillance devices available on the market in addition to the elite devices used by the top brass at Lloyd Laboratories. Audio, visual, it doesn't matter. It will pick up most signals as long as you're in the right spot. The only downside of the device is the limited range. You more or less have to hold the pager within 20 inches of the bug in order to guarantee a reliable result. If you were to say, stand in the middle of a room and hold the button, it might say there is nothing there. But then if you walked over to the cable jack and tested again, the pager might reveal a bug had been planted in the wall behind the cover."

"Okay, that would have been useful to know," Thalia grumbles. "Sorry, that's not directed at you. How do you use it to detect the bug? Hold down that same button you use to check for wiretaps? And what about tracking it - do you think it can be used to track the person carrying it?"

Arthur shakes his head in affirmation. "Just hold the button and it will start multiple search types for different kinds of signals and evidence of recordings taking place.

"As for tracking, the device works on a one-way communication system. Transmissions can be directed to the device, but not from it. This prevents most common means of tracking the user of the device. The only exception to this are the pings used to location radio towers. Once every 3 hours the pager will send out a ping to locate the tower with the strongest signal. This is the tower that will be used to send messages to the device until the next ping is attempted. Someone with access to the radio tower network could triangulate your position at the time the ping took place within... say a mile or so. From what I know of Kate, she only hands these devices out to trusted security staff. I'm honestly surprised you have one. I do not imagine she is using it to track you, and if she is, it is far from the most efficient means of doing it. It would make more sense to plant tracking devices on your car and in your shoes."

"My shoes?" She's not sure why that knowledge triggers such a sense of betrayal and outrage in her, but it does. Like... she knew her phones and office and apartment were all bugged, and that has pissed her off and inconvenienced her plenty, but come on! If there's anything you should be able to trust in your daily life, it's your damn shoes.

She pulls over, grabbing the pager from Arthur and holding it close to her shoes. Nothing.

Then she holds down the button and waves it around the dash of the car, around the front seats, up around the ceiling and down on the floor - incidentally checking Arthur's shoes, too. She performs the same ritual in the backseat, then pops the trunk and does it there. Satisfied that there are no tracking devices in the car, she gets back into the driver's seat, grumbling, "A girl's shoes should be sacred, that's all I'm saying."

Restarting the car, she puts it in gear and says, "Okay, so I've got a place I can take you. It's not fancy - heck, it's not even particularly clean right now - but it's a place nobody knows about but me. Meaning, it's a Lloyd-free zone."

It takes about thirty minutes to get there, and long before that, Arthur is starting to feel uneasy. The neighborhood is what people like Arthur tend to think of as "sketchy," with run-down houses, the occasional community center building of dubious structural integrity, and very little green space. She turns down an alley and slows, the car dipping and lurching as it navigates what seems like a sea of potholes, until she reaches a patch of dirt behind a seemingly half-rotted stockade fence.

Getting out of the car, she helps Arthur out and leads him to the gate. Using a key, she unlocks the padlock and opens the gate. They trudge through an overgrown yard. "Watch your step," she says, although she knows he probably can't see anyway as she helps him up the path marked with ancient, broken paver stones, many of them askew.

Another key unlocks the back door and they enter a small house. She flips on the light, illuminating a dingy kitchen with very old, battered appliances. "There's not much here. Electricity, an old tv, a phone. One bedroom. The sheets are clean, although I haven't dusted the place in a while."

She bids him to sit down at the small kitchen table and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a substantial first aid kit and some old but clean wash cloths. "Let's take a look at your injuries, see if we have anything to worry about."

She cleans and disinfects the cuts on his face and any other open wounds he has. A few of the cuts require butterfly bandages, but she doesn't think stitches are required. The purpose seemed to be to cause pain and terror rather than grievous injury... at least, until Ivanovich was done with him. The worst of it does seem to be the cracked ribs, about which she can do nothing.

"How do you know they won't find us here?" Arthur asks as she's putting away the supplies.

"Well, I can't guarantee it, of course. But this place isn't in my name or associated with me in any direct way. An old client's great-grandmother used to live here. He was going to sell it, but let's face it, he wasn't going to get much for it, and he owed me. So he agreed to let me use it as a safe house as long as I paid him for the utilities and any upkeep. Obviously, I haven't put much into the upkeep."

She offers him a choice of packaged ramen and they both have a late supper fit for a college student with few prospects. He's nodding off before he's even finished, so she shows him the bath and bedroom and lets him get himself cleaned up and to bed. She's stashed an eclectic assortment of clothing in this place, none of which would win any fashion prizes, but she picks out a t-shirt and some boxers that should fit him well enough to sleep in.

When he's settled, she grabs an old pillow from the linen closet and carries it to the couch. Picking up the receiver of a phone at least twenty years out of style, she uses the pager to determine that the line is clean and dials a number.

"Do you know what time it is?" a voice demands irritably.

"Yes, Freddie, and I've had quite a day myself, so just do this one thing and we can both go on with our nights. Call Cyn as soon as we hang up and say these exact words. Well, get a pencil, okay? Okay, ready? The message is, 'Beverly called and she's okay, but had to leave town suddenly. She wants you to call the new guy, the wine-lover, and tell him that she avoided the attack dog and rescued a stray kitten. She'll call you when she gets back to San Espero.' Now, read that back to me."

Freddie grouses, but he reads back exactly what she'd dictated and they hang up. Thalia finally allows herself to relax, groaning as her muscles complain from the near-constant tension she's experienced today. She knows that Cyn will understand the parts of the message intended for her: 'Beverly' is a joke between them, each of them using it to diss the other periodically; "had to leave town suddenly" is code for "at my shithole of a safe house, the address of which you don't know." She hopes that Dylan will understand the reference to Ivanovich (the "attack dog"), but he'll likely find the stray kitten thing baffling.

But at least he'll know she didn't get killed delivering a hitman's dry cleaning.

She takes her gun out of her bag and checks it, making sure it's loaded and that the safety is on. She turns out the light in the living room, plunging the depressing, ramshackle cottage into darkness. Tucking the gun under the pillow, she drags a dismal crocheted afghan off the back of the couch and over her body and stretches out on threadbare cushions. There are a lot of times when being small is an advantage, and being able to sleep comfortably on a small couch is one of them.

Your much deserved sleep is less restful then you might hope. Nightmares keep you tossing and turning for hours. Every time you wake up you get spooked by shadows moving across the walls. You get frustrated with yourself and do some breathing exercise to get your mind to relax. This finally allows you to drift off and get some actually rest. For a while, at least.

It is still dark the next time you wake up. You're on your side and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but once they do, there is no mistake that someone is walking around inside the room. There is a brief moment when you think it is an intruder before realizing that the hunched over slow movements clearly belong to Arthur. Through the darkness you watch as he does his best to quietly move about. He head wiggles about scanning every nook and cranny but it isn't clear what he is looking for. He goes to the kitchen and you can hear him slowly open and closing every drawer and cabinet.

He comes back into the room and you can see he has a small pad of paper and pencil in his hands. Arthur tip toes back to the bedroom, lightly closes the door, and turns on the light. A bit weird, but not exactly sinister. You drift back off to sleep.

---

When the sun rises his door is still shut but the light is on. You knock and he grumbles an incoherent response which you take as an 'ok' to enter the room.

Arthur sits crossed legged on the bed. He is leaning over the notepad and scribbling away with great speed. A small stack of papers is next to him. Some are filled top to bottom with handwritten notes while others are detailed sketches of circuit boards. Many balled up pieces of paper are scatted across the floor. Arthur seems considerably more alert despite your estimates that he could have only gotten 3 or 4 hours of sleep. He must be one of those people that only get energized by obsessing over work.

"Good morning Thalia Trimble. Can I get a cup of coffee?" He speaks without looking up from what he is writing. "I've done a lot of thinking during the night. You risked yourself to save me so I assume that means you are interested in my long term safety. I am requesting to stay in this location until this whole mess is done and over with. At that time I will cooperate according to your wishes. I have no desire to see the inside of a jail cell, but I am technically an accomplice to a triple murder. Nothing will ever change that..."

He keeps writing the entire time he speaks to you. Not once does he look up from the page. He reaches toward a set of 4 pages that were put off to the side in another pile and holds them out to you. "Safe as this place may be, the last few days have really hammered home just how much danger I am in. While you are out can you drop this off with my lawyer. Last will and testament. I'll need you to sign as a witness. Lawyer's office address is at the top."

She stares at him, envying his apparent speedy recovery from what had to be the most traumatic event of his life, hating him a little for it, in fact. She herself feels like the human version of the alley out back: grimy, ill-used, and lumpy. She folds her arms, taking in all the paper.

"Let me get this straight. You just spent over a day being tortured by a professional killer, and you spent the night thinking instead of resting?" She shakes her head. "Right. Coffee. I think I still have some. Sorry, it's instant. Not like this place is occupied all that often."

In the kitchen, she puts the kettle on to boil and gets out a saucepan. A short while later, she calls Arthur into the kitchen for a simple but halfway decent breakfast of oatmeal (made from a sealed cannister of quick oats) and instant coffee. He is reluctant to leave his work, but she insists. The guy might not need to sleep, but he damned well needs to eat.

"So, a few things. You are certainly welcome to stay here. It's my safe house, it's why I brought you here. But I want to emphasize that I can't guarantee your safety. This place is more off-the-radar than anything else I have access to, but that doesn't mean someone won't manage to track me here eventually. I know, I know - that's why you spent the night working on your will. Just making the reality of the situation explicit."

She takes a bite of the oatmeal. (She hates oatmeal, but it's a staple with a long shelf life, and that's the kind of thing you stock in a safe house kitchen.) "Also, I really need you to tell me everything. Everything about the murders, how it all went down, everything about the cover-up. I know a certain amount about the political powerplays that led up to the murders, but I need all the detail I can get. I need to find a way to prove Andrew Lawson's innocence, and the best way for me to do that is to know all there is to know about the frame-job and the feud between Kate and Martha.

"Oh, and don't leave stuff like where you two have been manufacturing those sonic weapons. I know you didn't have them made at Lloyd, so you must have a private lab somewhere, right?"

Just before Arthur begins to tell his story, Thalia asks to record it using a small tape recorder she's pulled from her bag. She murmurs her name and his, the date, and the location of San Espero before nodding for him to go ahead and start talking. While he does, she also jots down notes in her little notebook.

She listens without giving any overt signs of judgment - after all, she'd asked him to tell the story and she already knew he was part of the conspiracy - but she really wants to give him a look when he blithely states that a plot to manipulate Kate's brother for the purpose of framing Kate for something she hadn't done to the LL board "seemed innocent enough at the time." It speaks volumes about the moral and ethical code of the average Lloyd Labs scientist that he could explain away his participation in this manner.

When he mentions Bradford, Bell, and Carson, she interjects briefly to clarify for the recording that he means Martha Bradford of Lloyd Laboratories; Isabel Bell, Kate Lawson's executive assistant; and Carson Chang, asking him to clarify Carson's relationship to LL, since Andrew had believed he was retired.

After he answers that, Arthur continues until the point of meeting with Ivanovich and his technicians, when Thalia asks, "Did Ivanovich think that you were giving his people the specs to produce the unhampered version of the weapon at that time?" After his answer, she gestures for him to continue his story.

At the mention of Carson putting Andrew into a stupor, she interrupts again. "What exactly did Carson use to do that? The mind-melter thing that Martha Bradford added to your sonic weapon, or something else?"

She can see Arthur becoming increasingly emotional and ashamed as he lays out the sordid tale and his compliant role in it and hopes he will be able to make it to the end. When he leaves the kitchen, she doesn't get the feeling he's abandoning the effort so much as determined to add something to it, so she murmurs into the recorder that he has left the room to retrieve something. That turns out to be correct, and when he returns, he sets down the papers he worked on overnight and declares his willingness to testify.

When he mentions taking on a risky mission, she pauses the recording quickly, glad that she did so when he tells her what it is. She accepts the chip and his Lloyd Labs ID card. She asks him for a quick rundown of the underground facility so that she will have enough knowledge to potentially dodge trouble while she's inside.

"I can't promise anything, of course, and I'm not qualified to make a legal prediction, but yeah... I'd say the murder weapon and testimony from you and Bell would go a long way toward a conviction. Now, I'm going to turn the recorder back on, and we're not going to mention this little breaking-and-entering plot while it's running, okay?"

Resuming the recording, Thalia looks over the pages of notes and drawings, narrating what she sees and asking him to explain walk her through it. She wants as complete a record as possible, just in case Arthur is prevented from being able to testify.

When that is done, she asks Arthur to make a list of things that he needs during his stay in her cut-rate safe house, then grabs a change of clothes from her stash in the bedroom closet and takes a very quick shower. The urge to linger under a blast of hot water is tempting, but she doesn't have the time, or frankly, the water pressure to make it satisfying.

The act of getting clean is enough to make her feel somewhat better-prepared for what she has to face today. She gathers up Arthur's shopping list, his notes, his will and the address of his attorney's office, and her gun, which she checks again out of an abundance of paranoia. She shows him the spare key for the front and back door deadbolts and the padlock on the back gate and instructs him not to use the phone at all, for any reason.

After taking suitable precautions to ensure she's not followed, she drives to Jamal's place, hoping like hell that he's in. She should have known that he wasn't even out of bed yet. She has to pound on the door for a while to get him to answer.

Before she will answer any questions or say anything beyond small talk - which Jamal isn't really too interested in before his coffee anyway - Thalia uses her pager to check his place for listening devices, including his phone. Everything comes up clean, which both surprises and relieves her, and she relaxes a little as the coffee is served and he begins to look over Arthur's notes.

"You absolutely don't want to know what I'm up to," Thalia tells him with a grin. "I'll be right back with some donuts."

She happens to know Jamal's preferred bakery and brings back the freshest ones they have. While he is getting set up, she spends some time looking up supermarkets in the vicinity of Handy-Clean Dry Cleaners. Finding what she's looking for, she uses Jamal's phone to call Dylan.

Before he can say much, she says, "Hey there, hot stuff. You know, I'm about to do my weekly grocery shopping and I thought you might like to keep me company." She infuses this with a flirtatious tone. "And if you provide good enough company, maybe I'll even let you buy me lunch. Meet me at the supermarket that's seven blocks east of that place where we watched videos last night. I'll be there in, oh, let's say half an hour." She lowers her voice to a husky purr. "I really want to see you again. Please?"

When he agrees, she giggles and says, "Great! See you soon."

She hangs up the phone and notices Jamal is staring at her. "Well, that was disturbing."

"Sweetie, if I told you about what happened to me yesterday, you'd really understand the meaning of 'disturbing.'"

Jamal holds up one hand to stop her. "I'll take your word for it. So you're off, then?"

She snags a cruller from the box, earning a scowl from him, and says, "Yep. See you in a couple of hours."

The drive to Atherton's Super Foods is circuitous, like all her drives have become this week. But once she's inside, she's surprised to find Dylan has beaten her there. In case he was followed, she plays up the angle she was selling over the phone, smiling brightly at him and greeting him with an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a hug that's just a hair too long to suggest mere friendship.

Dylan is already looking adorably awkward when you spot him. The kiss and the hug make his cheeks blush a deep red. He stands there, unsure how to react for a moment before giving you a very brotherly hug in return. When the embrace is over he takes a step back and fiddles with adjusting his glasses just to give himself something to do.

"I’m, umm, so glad to see you again... honey?" It seems he is going to need a few more details before he can get into character. Quietly he asks, "What is going on? Please don't tell me that we’re picking up groceries to Mr. Evans."

"Of course not," she says quietly, offering him a more genuine and, she hopes, reassuring smile. Then she drops her car keys and laughs, crouching down to retrieve them and using the pager to check his shoes for tracking or listening devices, surreptitiously scanning the rest of him as she rises.

Assuming that she detects nothing untoward, she puts her keys and the palmed pager back into her bag and grabs a shopping cart and leads him into the supermarket, keeping her voice pitched low and pausing when they are close enough to other shoppers that they might overhear.

"We're shopping for someone I rescued from 'Evans,' actually." She summarizes installing a listening device into the suit before delivering it, seeing Arthur's name on the visitor log at the apartment complex with no sign-out time, and hearing that someone was being held prisoner in the closet. She tells him about the rescue and the escape, along with a highlights reel of this morning's debrief. Throughout, she is grabbing items from the shelves and putting them into her cart.

She hands him the shopping list, under which are two white envelopes. One is sealed and contains Arthur's will and has his attorney's name and address on the front; the other contains some notes that she'd jotted down to serve as a table of contents for the other item in the envelope: the cassette recording of Arthur's confession and details of the conspiracy. Pulling back the shopping list and leaving the envelopes in his hands, she gives him a Cliff's Notes version of what Arthur had told her.

"The top envelope contains a recording of everything he said. Just in case something interferes with his ability to testify, maybe that will at least make it possible to bring the others to trial. The bottom one is something intended for his attorney. I'm hoping you can get that delivered for me. I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to be possibly seen visiting his lawyer."

For a minute, Dylan looks at you like you are crazy. What you're doing with the pager finally clicks with him and his face turns to worry. "When you catch the people responsible for all this, make sure to give them an extra punch across the jaw for me." He tries to sound snappy and jovial, but the worry in his voice is crystal clear. As you explain everything that has happened since you parted ways the worry on his face only continues to grow.

"No problem. I can easily take care of that for you." For the first time today, Dylan actually shows some sign of relief. "It is the least I can do. I feel really awful about abandoning you yesterday. Learning you walked into... all that has only made me feel worse. Telling you what I'm about to tell you makes me feel even worse..." He nervously runs his hand through his hair and makes sure no one is nearby. When he starts speaking again, he is quiet.

"I'm worried about Arthur. This is the type of witness I would have on 24/7 suicide watch, Thalia. He is guilt written, is showing little regard for his health or safety, and has laid out clear plans to follow in the event of his death. Now that you have his confession... what is left to keep him around? Maybe I'm the one being paranoid and he's simply waiting for you to return so he can keep working on some new death ray... I know he is in pain, but I would limit his access to painkillers."

He gives you a minute to think over what he has said and confirm or deny that Arthur is displaying this type of pattern. "After I visit with his lawyer and get the tape safely secured, I can go out there and keep an eye on him for you. I feel like I owe you, after all."

"Oh, good. Something else to worry about. I was starting to fret that I'd run out." Inside, Thalia is kicking herself. How could she have missed the signs? Briefly, she's convinced that she'll find Arthur in the bathrub, having slit his wrists with one of the dull kitchen knives at the safe house, but no - a guy who made a very specific pen brand and ink color request isn't going to off himself before he's had a chance to write with the pens.

Of course, he probably wants to write a suicide note, so it's not like this is a giant comfort.

She rubs her forehead. She really wishes she'd been able to sleep better last night.

"Okay, you're right. It's probably a good idea for someone to be watching him. But Dylan, I'm not sure... It's not going to be safe. I've been crazy careful, but that doesn't mean they haven't found the safe house, or that they won't. So please - don't make an offer that you might regret, especially out of guilt. You don't owe me anything; I'm paying you, remember? If anything, I owe you. I not only haven't cut you a check yet, but I involved you in my investigation last night in a way that could have put you in serious danger."

They arrive at the checkout and she pays for the groceries. She snaps her fingers as they carry the bags out the door. "That reminds me, I need to make sure I pay you what I owe when we get to the car. Oh, and I need to ask you: Hypothetically, if I were to tell you about something I was planning that was not exactly legal, would you, as an officer of the court, be required to inform the police? Or would that be covered under attorney-client privilege? Hypothetically, as I said."