The knock came just after nine, three sharp raps and then a pause, the particular rhythm of someone who had knocked on this door before. Tina answered it still in her pajamas, toothbrush in hand, and found Mark on the other side in a plain jacket that did nothing to hide the way he stood, weight balanced, eyes already moving past her into the apartment.

"Morning inspection," he said, stepping past her without quite waiting for an invitation. "Jason's orders. Nothing personal."

"You couldn't have texted?"

"I did. Four times." He held up his phone, screen dark, and gave her a look that suggested this was an old argument. "You...