“Whose car was that,” Mac asked. “The one outside.”
Cloe looked up from the table, where Dave had already covered half the page with careful boxes and lines, names branching outward in every direction. Mac was standing by the window, phone in hand, his eyes still fixed on the empty stretch of road below.
“What car,” Cloe said.
“There was a car parked across the street,” Mac said slowly. “For almost an hour. I noticed it when Hannah arrived and didn’t think anything of it. But it just pulled away. Slowly. Like whoever was inside wanted to make sure they’d seen everything before they left.”
The kitchen went quiet again, a different kind of quiet now, the kind that came after a day already too full of revelations, when the body recognised danger before the mind had finished processing it.
