I watched suspiciously out the windows as Scott and his partner drove me through unfamiliar streets. I'd placed my faith in someone I didn't know, someone who sure as hell hadn't earned it. It wasn't until we pulled up to the small airport that my pulse attempted to resume a normal cadence. It finally found its rhythm as I boarded the private plane.
It seemed like with each passing minute the questions continued to mount with no answers in sight.
Had I made the right choice?
Who was Mark? Was he really someone named Andrew, and why would he have wanted me?
For that matter, who was Sterling Sparrow?
Was it reassuring that I knew his name?
No.
His name gave me no more information than I'd had before, with one exception: my mother had warned me about him. And then a new question came
