We sat in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall. The Christmas tree in the corner twinkled with lights, presents already wrapped beneath it. Amy Dankworth had called me yesterday—devastated, broken, but grateful that I'd survived. She'd had no idea what her husband was. No idea what he'd been planning. I believed her.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. A news alert. I almost ignored it. I was on medical leave. Whatever was happening in the world could wait. But something made me pick it up.
