DAMIEN
“Be careful,” Victor’s words echoed in my head as I left the police station.
Frustrated, I slammed the car door, startling John. “Sorry,” I mumbled, settling into my seat. I pulled out my phone and noticed messages from Missy and Rafael. I opened Missy’s first—updates on the break-in. After replying, I clicked on Rafael’s.
It was just an address. No explanation.
I texted him back, but there was no response. The message was sent five minutes ago—he had to still be there.
I leaned forward. “John, have you heard of the Blue Fountain?”
“Yes, on Steward’s Street.”
“How far?”
“Not far sir.”
“Take me there. Look for the building with the number 24.”.
John nodded, and after a short drive, we arrived. The building looked different from the others—older, and worn down. The faded sig
