She had been watching Graves for two weeks before she said anything to anyone.
She had not been watching him intentionally at first. She had been watching the building the way she watched rooms, tracking the flow of information and people and access, mapping who was where when and whether the pattern made sense. It was something she had developed in Charles Hayes's household without knowing she was developing it and it had transferred, apparently, to office buildings.
Graves was in the wrong place at the wrong time with a consistency that was too specific to be coincidence, but not obviously. He was quiet and forgettable-looking, exactly the kind of person you stopped noticing, medium height and sandy hair and the kind of face that processed into the general background of an open-plan floor. He carried himself with the slightly too-studied ease of someone performing relaxation and she had started tracking him at the end of week three without consciously deciding to.
