Elena called Damian twice before she reached her car and got no answer either time, so she left a message instead, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be.
"Someone knew exactly where I was standing when Isabelle cornered me," she said. "I got a text. Call me back the second you hear this."
She pulled out of the parking garage with the garment bag thrown carelessly across the back seat, the phone propped on the passenger seat in case he called back, one eye on the mirrors the whole way out of the city in a habit that felt, for the first time in her life, entirely justified rather than paranoid.
The road home ran along the river for the last two miles, dark and mostly empty at this hour, streetlights spaced too far apart to do much good, and it was there, halfway between one light and
