Jace:
The sun was low by the time I left the storage unit. I had spent the entire day surrounded by Camden's handwriting. His name. His notes. His questions. His trail of money leading through companies that had no business being connected. And somehow… Every road kept circling back to the people who had been standing closest to him when he died. I drove without a destination. The old Chevy hummed beneath me as I followed the road toward Riverside. The windows were down. The Florida evening rushed through the cab, warm and salty, carrying the smell of marsh grass and the river. I needed the air. I needed to stop thinking. That was the problem with thinking. Once you started, sometimes there was no off switch.
I was crossing one of the smaller bridges when my phone buzzed in the cup holde
