“The government cares,” Sullivan argued. “They wouldn’t invest in Strike if they didn’t.”
“They care about the perimeter.” He pointed toward the other doorway in the room, an open arch Sullivan couldn’t see through. “Bathroom is just to the right, kitchen’s to the left. If you can’t sleep, help yourself to any of the books on the shelves next to the couch. All I ask is that you don’t leave and go wandering around Chadwick.” The white of his teeth flashed as he smiled ruefully. “Most attitudes are going to lean toward Joe and Luther’s. I’d hate to see you get shot your first night here.”
Panic shot through him as Rafe headed for the exit that led to the rest of the house. “Where are you going?”
When he looked back, Rafe’s features were a hollow mask, the distance and darkness erasing his identity to the point of heightening Sullivan’s sharp anxiety. “To bed. I’ve had a long day.”
“But I’ve got so many questions.”