Seventeen
I didn’t have to go far to find Belladonna. She was sequestered in the library, pouring over a book with such intensity I was almost afraid to disturb her.
“Belladonna,” I said loudly enough to catch her attention.
“Uh … is there any news?” She didn’t look up from the book.
“Some, but I also have a few more questions for you,” I said and took the seat beside her.
She set the book down and faced me. She no longer looked like the kind, gentle woman I’d met months ago who healed me without question. She looked tired and beaten down. “What did you find?”
I sucked in a breath and said, “We found footage of him arriving to and leaving from South Station. It looked like he was alone, but he made a phone call to someone as he was leaving.”
“You found his phone. You can see who he
