Phoebe's POV
My heart lurched. With Harold's razor-sharp intuition, he'd start digging into lan's background sooner rather than later.
I picked up anyway. "Harold?"
Background noise crackled through the speaker before I heard him ask, "Phoebe, is lan there with you?"
I looked over at lan, who appeared ready to bolt. "Yeah, he's here. Need to speak with him?"
"Put him on. I've got to talk to him," Harold said.
"Of course." I passed the phone to lan, catching his panicked expression with an amused grin. "He wants to chat."
lan went quiet, steeling himself before accepting the call. "Harold, what's up?" he managed.
"Your phone's been going straight to voicemail. Get to the lab now. The police need to question you," Harold's voice carried through the speaker.
lan's complexion turned ashen. "Harold, do I really have to show up? Can't we handle this over the phone?"
