A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

sat down on the floor beside her, our shoulders nearly touching against the white painted wood of the cabinets.

The green linoleum was cold, but the heat from the radiator drifted over our ankles in slow, warm waves.

“He had a file on Kara, and he had one on the girl from the bank,” I said. “And he had one on me.”

Stacey took a slow continue reading …