Milgrim blinked. Hollis was chaining the door behind them. He’d never seen a hotel room like this, and Hollis wasn’t alone in it. There was a man on the bed (the very strange bed) with short but unkempt dark hair, and he was looking at Milgrim with a seriousness, a sort of quiet focus, that almost triggered the cop-sensing mechanisms Winnie had last touched off in Seven Dials. Almost.