Christine’s POV
The morning arrives slowly, stretching itself across the sky in pale streaks of light that barely warm the air, and as I drive through the quieter part of town, the burner phone tucked deep inside my coat pocket feels heavier than it should, like it’s carrying more than just plastic and wires, like it’s holding something that could shift everything if I’m brave enough to look. I haven’t slept properly since the break-in, since Jonathan and I slipped through Vince’s house like shadows, collecting fragments of a truth we still don’t fully understand, and now this phone, silent, cold, and ominous, sits in my lap like a sealed envelope I’m not sure I want to open.
I pull into the driveway of a modest house with a blue gate and a garden full of lavender that sways gently in th
