17
Perhaps there was hope after all.
“I know where he’ll be,” I said, tossing Brett his keys.
“How?”
“I bet the wispy-voiced man is the same anonymous ‘friend’ warning me about you. He found my new number and texted again tonight.”
“What did he say?”
“To meet him tomorrow night at ten. Alone.”
Brett rubbed his wrist where the cuff had been. “Let me read it.”
I pointed to the phone at the nightstand. “It’s the only one on there.”
“Where’s your old phone?”
“In the garbage. It took a swim.”
He eyed me. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a broken mailbox and a shattered bottle of champagne, would you?”
I shrugged. “It’s been a long couple of days.”
“It has been.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to take your phone with me.” He picked up his gun and headed to the door. “B
