Naomi's POV
The address of the place was unassuming.
Just a coffee shop on the corner of Locke and 72nd. Brick front. Painted door. A faded chalkboard sign that read: Open minds, open mugs. It could’ve been any café in the city.
But the air was different.
Tense, Stilled.
Raymond parked across the street and cut the engine. “Sure you want to do this?”
“No,” I said. “But I need to.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right here.”
“I know.”
……
I stepped out of the car and crossed the street slowly, heart hammering against my ribs. The shop bell jingled faintly as I opened the door. Inside: quiet jazz, warm lighting, a few early-morning regulars. Nothing suspicious.
Except the man sitting in the back corner, alone with a file folder and a familiar tension in his shoulde
