Franz's west wing study was insulated from the sounds of the house. Awards lined the shelves — early indie trophies alongside the heavier industry recognition that had come later. The framed movie posters covered the walls in careful arrangement, and the desk was cluttered with scripts and contracts, the daily evidence of Noah Hart's other life. The door was closed.
Five people had gathered in their usual formation, though the room was different now. Gone were the cinderblock walls and fluorescent hum. Only the warm glow of Franz's desk lamp remained, and the particular weight of five people who had been through enough together to skip the formalities.
Gilbert spoke first. He had his tablet with him, the screen tilted toward the group. "The PI sent an update about Arianna Brennan's younger brother."
