“Roger VanCamp didn’t,” Chloe pointed out. I turned toward the study door. I shook it, realizing I’d gone too long without taking Quentin’s hand, and it probably seemed rude. “I don’t think there’s any surveillance security on the premises. “Wait… Tyler’s here?” I looked at Quentin. Let’s go check out that study.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and guided me away from the middle of the room, heading for a hallway. “My middle name’s Tyler,” he said, pouring a couple fingers of brown liquor into one of the glasses on the table. “No cameras,” Chloe said as her eyes scanned the corners of the room. “And even if he did, he lost a lot to you. The desktop was completely bare, its contents scattered. A bald guy sat on one of the couches, wearing nothing but an open shirt and a pair of swim shorts.
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