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Evander makes a choking sound. I look at him.

"Cough," he says.

"Do it elsewhere."

"Gladly."

He gets up.

Elena points at him. "No. Stay."

Evander freezes halfway to the door.

"Why?" he asks.

"Witness."

"To what?"

"Potentially a homicide."

His eyes move between us. "Whose?"

"Undecided."

He sits back down, and I almost smile.

Almost.

"You're not a prisoner," I tell her.

"Wonderful. I'll leave."

"No."

Her nostrils flare. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Frequently."

"I am going to my apartment."

"Tell me what you need."

"My clothes."

"They can be brought here."

"My computer."

"Same."

"My files."

"Same."

"My dignity."

Evander looks at the ceiling, and I ignore him. "That might be harder."