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was probably a crack shot.
    “It’s Miss Davis, right? You’re not supposed to be here,” Mr. Fideli said. “Sorry. I don’t mean to scare you, but I’m going to need you to do what I say for a while.”
    He sounded like he meant it. He also sounded completely different from the buttoned-up, blankly inquisitive man who’d been sitting across from her this morning. He was kind of relaxed, as if this were his job, and he was very, very good at it.
    Also, she supposed an unarmed, first-day-on-the-job funeral director probably didn’t pose much of a threat.
    “What are you doing here?” Bryn demanded. Her voice was shaking, so it spoiled the confrontational words, but Mr. Fideli just raised his eyebrows and ignored the question anyway.
    “Anybody else here I need to know about?” he asked. “Fairview? Freddy Watson? Lucy?”
    He knew everybody’s name. That was … strange. Bryn shook her head.
    “Okay.” He stared at her for a long second, and she sensed he was making some kind of decision. It might have been about her own life and death. “Upstairs. Let’s have a seat in your office and talk. Might as well be comfortable.”
    She led the way, terribly aware of the gun he was aiming at her back; she supposed some movie action hero would have been able to spin around, roundhouse-kick the gun out of his hand, and martial-arts him into blubbering submission. She’d been through extensive unarmed combat training, and she knew that in no way was that a good idea.
    Bryn lived in the real world, and in the real world, you followed a gunman’s instructions, and waited for any opportunity that wouldn’t get you shot.
    Once they were in her office, Mr. Fideli locked the door and sat down in the guest chair opposite her desk with a relieved sigh. When she hesitated, he gestured with his free hand for her to take the chair behind the desk. She did, making no sudden movements.
    “Long day,” he said. She nodded.
You’ve got no idea, mister
. “So. You weren’t on my briefing paper. I’m guessing you’re the new hire?”
    “Today’s my first day,” she said.
    “Well, you picked a honey of a time to start, Bryn. Mind if I call you Bryn?”
    “Mind if I call you Joe? If that’s even your name?” She felt a little better sitting down. A little more in control.
    “Sure. And yeah, it’s my name.”
    “Do you even
have
a brother?”
    “Had,” he said, and tilted his head slightly, still watching her. “How the hell old are you, anyway?”
    “Twenty-six.”
    “Damn. You ought to be an actress; you could do those teen shows. You look sixteen.”
    Bryn ground her teeth and said nothing. She was
so
tired of people assuming she was high school age. She supposed when she was forty, she’d be grateful for the baby face, but up to now it had been a total pain in the ass.
    Probably not the most important thing on the radar at the moment, from a macro point of view.
    “Anyway,” Fideli said, “I’m just here to do some reconnaissance. You know what that means?”
    He clearly didn’t know her past. “Check out the lay of the land.”
    “Ding. I wasn’t planning on running into anybody. Where’s your car?”
    “I don’t have one. I ride the bus.”
    “No shit. Is that one of those save-the-planet things, or I’m-too-poor-to-afford-it things?”
    “Both. Mostly the latter, honestly.” Sadly.
    “Well, good for you, I guess. Bad for me, though. Tougher for me to get you out of here.” Fideli fell silent, staring at her.
    She felt compelled to say something. “What do you want? We don’t have a lot here that’s worth taking, if that’s what this is about. I mean, the furniture, maybe, but—”
    “I’m not a thief.”
    “Well, there’s not a load of opportunity for industrial espionage in this business,” she said. It was a joke, but he didn’t smile. His eyes certainly didn’t. “What did you want in the prep room?”
Preparation
, Bryn remembered, too late.
Fairview always wanted to be