Kendrick called his father from the pavement outside the bookshop at nine seventeen in the evening.
Not a meeting. Not a formal request. A call.
Richard answered on the second ring.
"Kendrick." His voice was alert. Not surprised — he'd learned, over the past weeks, that Kendrick calling at unusual hours meant something had moved.
"I need to talk to you about Jonah Adeyemi," Kendrick said.
Silence.
Not the instrumental kind.
Not the strategic kind.
The kind that meant Richard Walker had just heard a name he hadn't expected to hear from his son's mouth and was deciding what to do with that.
"Where did you hear that name," he said.
