CATHERINE
A soft ping jolted me out of my restless thoughts.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand and I grabbed it instinctively, praying it wasn’t T again.
It was.
T: Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Sharp. Parking garage on 5th. Bring what you’ve found.
I stared at the screen, my pulse hammering loudly in my ears.
What I’ve found.
The irony was, I hadn’t found anything. Not yet. Nothing but a shaky video that could still be fake and my own crumbling resolve.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I can’t do this anymore. I wanted to type it, to tell T to find someone else, to tell him I was out.
But before I could, another message flashed across my screen.
T: Don’t be late. Ronald’s expecting a shipment tomorrow night. If you’re not there, you’ll miss your chance to see who he really is.
My heart
