The next morning, I ate breakfast to the sound of the reports and my family's conversations. I concentrated on my food, too tired from studying and lying awake the night before. The image of the man at the window had haunted me through my dreams and chased away any semblance of sleep.
The reporter on the broadcast device droned on in the background. My mother stopped talking and glanced at it when she heard the guy mention the Valdemaras Region Student Resource Center at midnight.
"Miranda," she said, her voice a warning tone.
"I wasn't there at midnight," I said.
The reporter's voice kept going. "Nearby, a convoy of material trucks delivering supplies to a facility in Valdemaras was derailed last night by an unknown figure wearing only black. We believe this incident is linked to the
