Mona woke to an email from Dr. Conlin. She combed her hand through her hair, tugging a bit too forcefully as she did. The subject heading would have been benign from anyone else—Project Update—but Mona heard it in his voice. She regretted getting email alerts on her phone. It meant she had to answer it now because it was there, and the unknown quotient of it would make her mind race with what-ifs while her stomach acid roiled. Though she had set her alarm to give her enough time to get ready for her date with Kerri before she headed down for a nap, she shut it off when she got the email, and now, time was not her concern.
So, when her buzzer sounded, and Mona was still in wrinkled clothing and her hair was askew from her stressed-induced tugs, she should not have been surprised. She’d cho
