“I just want to thank somebody.”
I looked at her.
Tired.
Proud.
Thirty-two, maybe.
Working doubles while her daughter lay in this bed.
The number sat in my throat.
Forty-three thousand dollars.
Poppy’s college.
I could have said it.
Right there.
It was mine to say.
“Keep praying for them,” I said instead.
“Whoever they are.”
“I think they need it.”
She nodded.
She didn’t understand.
She didn’t need to.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A text from Owen.
I’m going to Voss now. Not Friday. Now. Before I lose my nerve.
Then a second buzz.
Nate.
Owen’s here. I’m coming in. I have to stop him.
I stared at the screen.
Nate wasn’t allowed past the lobby.
Voss’s office was on the sixth floor.
I took the stairs.
Two flights.
My lungs burned.
Somewhere on the stairs, I took out my phone.
I opened the voice recorder.
I pressed the red button.
