She’s not big into social media, so the idea that I could scrap something off the internet is simply silly.
“Here. There’s another one,” Grayson says. “The same man. Have you heard Robert talk about another friend of his?”
“No. He never talks about his life in the military.”
I snap a photo of that picture and give it back to him when the sound of a car engine vibrates through the air.
Who the fuck is that?
“Are you expecting guests?” he asks.
“No,” I say, pushing to my feet and moving to a small window overlooking the road.
The car's lights sweep the house, and I instinctively pull back as if someone could see me from the street.
Grayson drops the lid on the box and moves my way just as the car pulls up in front of Raven’s house.
“Is that her?” he asks, intrigued but not worried enough about this new development.
“She’s in Florida. I’ve already told you.”
Only when the driver turns the high beams off, do we realize we’re trapped.
“Fuck,” I rasp, looking around. “There’s not enough time to pull out of the house.
Maybe it’s a neighbor.
No, it’s definitely not. There are plenty of parking spots up the street. Whoever is in that car is heading this way.