A limo was waiting in the parking lot the next morning when I stepped off the elevator of my apartment and onto the curb. The driver took my bags, slid them in the back, and then opened the back door for me. After he was in the driver's seat, I instructed him to take me to Casey Roger's apartment and gave him the address. Frank had given me all of the information before I left the night before.
We pulled up in front of an apartment a few minutes later that reminded me of the Somerset Apartments, where Logan and I had lived long ago. I quickly brushed the thought aside, determined to focus on Casey and to make this trip a positive experience for her. Casey was waiting out front, holding a guitar with a suitcase at her feet. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulder when she bent down to p
