The room held the same shape, but no one was relaxed anymore.
Glasses where they'd been. Nate's hand near the edge of the table. Julian leaned back with one arm along the seat, but his shoulders hadn't dropped. Gilbert hadn't touched his drink at all. The ice had melted.
Arianne's fingers were close to Franz's. Not touching.
No one spoke. Not waiting. Thinking.
Nate broke it first.
"If we're missing where they went," he said, turning his glass and watching the liquid move, "then we're missing who they met. People don't move like that for no reason. Not that often."
Julian exhaled through his nose. "They weren't sightseeing. That's obvious."
Gilbert leaned forward. "Then we trace the trips. Routes, bookings, anything that leaves a footprint."
Nate nodded. "Already on it." A beat. "But there's another angle."
He finally looked up.
"Dominic."
Gilbert's hand came down flat on the table. Hard.
