Kess did not remember crossing the detention center’s parking lot. She remembered the cold bite of the October wind, the click of the car door, and the slow shaking of her own hands on the steering wheel. Then Ronan’s voice came through the speaker, tight and quick, and she realized she had been staring at the same patch of gray wall for a full minute.
“I’m at the halfway house,” he said. “Reyes-Dalton called me before he called anyone else. Said he thought I should see it before the police did.”
“Tell me exactly what’s there.”
“A narrow room. The bed’s made. His phone is on the pillow, and next to it is the note. Seven words, and a second sheet underneath.” A pause. “It’s addressed to you, but I read it. I’m sorry. Reyes-Dalton said he would have opened it either way.”
“Read it to me.
