but nothing on Thursday. And it would have caught him, no doubt about that, whether he was in his car or on foot, because this is the only way in.”
“No other way at all?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “So you’ve heard Trey’s little rant, huh? I suppose he could have gotten in over the wall. But the area around Eliza’s apartment is covered by the security camera there—that whole corner is. See?”
I had to take his word for it. All I could see was an expanse of lawn with people sunbathing.
“Jake Whitaker lives right across from her apartment.”
“The manager? Yeah.”
“What was he doing during this time?”
“He was with the landscaping people, creating urban gardening space.” He said it with sarcastic little air quotes. “Why is it the people who can afford to do otherwise always want to grow their own tomatoes?”
I kept my eyes on the screen. “You came to that meeting yesterday just to piss Trey off.”
“Maybe. I have a problem with authority sometimes. But I’m not a bad guy. White hat all the way.”
“So why’d they hire you back?”
“Because I’m good. But mostly because they want to keep an eye on me. Why do you think they made you a liaison?”
I stood up, dusted off my backside. “Because Mark Beaumont said so.”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that, it’s control. These people want their fingers in everybody’s pie, especially Marisa. Boss Lady does not like surprises. Phoenix has something you want—access—which means you’ve got to toe the line now.”
“I don’t do that very well.”
“Neither do I. But look at me, all suited up and proper today.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Look, tell Trey I said I was sorry. And if you need anything—”
“How about a copy of that disc?”
Steve smiled. “I knew you were going to say that.”
***
As Steve promised, I found Trey in a back room at the gym. He wore a white t-shirt and black workout pants, and he was barefoot. A group of yoga-ready females sat on the cushioned floor in front of him, watching intently while he put one of their own into a chokehold.
“Relax your muscles,” he told her. “I’m using your resistance against you.”
The pony-tailed woman wasn’t listening—she kept tugging at his forearm, which wasn’t budging. She twisted about, making mousy girl noises, getting nowhere.
I rolled my eyes. “Bite him. That’ll teach the son-of-a-bitch.”
A dozen heads swiveled my way, Trey’s included. He didn’t break his hold, however, and his voice remained calm and authoritative. “Bend your knees first, then tuck your hips…yes, like that. Good.”
She pushed his arm away with a feeble shove, and the entire class applauded as she returned to her spot. Trey finished up briskly after that. As the class filed out, each woman stopped to thank him personally. There was a lot of laughing and hair stroking, soft hands on his shoulder. Trey seemed oblivious to the whole parade, and eventually the room was empty except for the two of us. I noticed that his hands were wrapped like a boxer’s, and that he kept them loose and ready, even though it was just me at the door.
“Did you need something?” he said.
“Yeah.” I came into the room. “I need to know why there’s a Phoenix-issue security camera in my shop that nobody told me about.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb. There’s a freaking camera in my gun shop, and I want to know how it got there!”
“We installed it last week.” He moved to the middle of the room where a weight bag dangled. He steadied it, then took a couple of easy jabs. “You know this. You signed the authorization paperwork.”
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did. I have it on file in my office.”
“Then it’s a forgery.”
“It’s notarized.”
I stomped onto the mat. Trey pointed at my feet. “You have to take your shoes off.”
I pulled off one boot and threw it down. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s to protect—”
“Not the shoes.” I yanked off the other boot and joined him on the mat. “The situation. You just told me something that makes no sense whatsoever.”
Trey returned to the weight bag. Up close, I could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“I’ll make you copies of the paperwork when I get back to the office,” he said. “I suspect it will make sense then.”
He moved lightly on his feet. Punch, punch, spin and kick. Precise and deadly.
“Not then, now. I want to see now.”
“I’m busy now.”
“Now.”
He froze, hands up, and shot me a look—annoyance, tamped tight, but definitely percolating. That’s