“In Conference One.”
“With her?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Almost ten minutes.”
Nina lowered her voice further.
“And Chris?”
“What?”
“I have never seen Gavin this scared.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled back into the agency parking lot.
I told myself I was only going to collect my things.
Desk photos.
A notebook.
The headphones Lucy bought me for Father’s Day.
Maybe the ridiculous coffee mug Sophie had painted when she was six.
That was all.
I had no interest in begging for my job back.
When I walked through reception, every head turned.
People who had avoided eye contact earlier now openly watched me.
Nina stood.
“She’s in there.”
I looked toward the glass conference room.
The woman from Route 18 was standing beside the table.
She looked completely different.
Her silver hair was neatly brushed.
The hospital blanket was gone.
Her posture was straight.
Controlled.
Beside her sat two men in suits and a woman with a leather folder.
