David’s phone buzzed as he pulled away from the resort. A text from Lena:
Come to my place. Now. 412 Ocean Drive, South Beach. Gate code 7491. Important.
He stared at the screen for a second, then dropped the phone in the cup holder and turned the wheel toward South Beach. The drive took twenty minutes in early evening traffic, palm trees blurring past, neon signs flickering to life, the ocean glinting gold on his left. His mind was still on Scott: the half-truths, the long pauses, the way Scott’s eyes had darted when he talked about Micah. Something was buried there. Lena had clearly dug it up.
His phone rang again. Micah’s name on the screen.
He answered on speaker. “Hey.”
Micah’s voice was bright but tired. “Hey. We’re heading out. Carolina wanted to get some fresh clothes and groc
