“You’ve been in there a while now,” Finn’s voice crackled in my ear. “Does that mean you’ve found something good?”

   “No,” I muttered. “Just a lot of liquor, antiques, and photos.”

   “What kind of liquor?” Finn chirped with obvious interest. “Anything I would drink?”

   I slid my phone into my pocket, then turned and eyed the rows of gleaming bottles behind the bar. “Oh, I think that you would drink it all, especially since Damian’s tastes are even more expensive than yours. Why, you would cackle with glee if you could see all the spirits he has in here.”

   “Well, why don’t you bring me a bottle or two so I can cackle in person?” Finn chirped again. “I might as well get something from standing out here in the cold all night long.”

   Even though he was in the woods outside and couldn’t see me, I still rolled my eyes. “I came here for information on the Circle. Not to pilfer Daddy’s booze like some teenager.”

   “You say potato, I say opportunity.”

   I rolled my eyes again and started to respond when a faint creak sounded in the hallway outside, as though someone had stepped on a floorboard. I froze. The creak came again, louder and closer this time, and it was followed by something far, far worse—the distinctive snick of a key sliding in a lock.

   “Let’s have a drink,” a faint, muffled voice said.

   Someone was outside the office—and he was about to come in.