Not of the locker.
Not of the envelope.
Of the brass key.
Beneath it were five words:
WE KNOW ABOUT LOCKER 317.
Then we waited.
Carmen responded eleven minutes later.
COME TO THE MERCER WAREHOUSE.
Sofia read the message.
“She took the bait.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Or wants us to think she did.”
Alexander studied the coordinates.
The old Mercer warehouse sat beside the river, abandoned for fifteen years.
I knew before anyone said it that Alexander intended to go.
“You’re not going alone.”
He looked at me.
“Caroline—”
“No.”
“This isn’t your fight.”
I laughed.
“My daughter was @ss/@ulted. My marriage was destroyed. Someone searched my home. Daniel hid evidence under my floor. Your secret investigation followed us for twenty years.”
I stepped closer.
“Do not tell me this isn’t my fight.”
Alexander’s mouth almost twitched.
“That is the Caroline I remember.”
“She never left.”
