The next morning, everything changed again.
I was making coffee at 6 AM old prison habit, still couldn't sleep past dawn when my phone rang. Unknown number. I answered immediately, because unknown numbers had become either intelligence gold or immediate danger, and I'd learned to tell the difference by the second ring.
It wasn't Morrison. It wasn't Connor. It wasn't anyone from the investigation.
It was a young man's voice. Nervous. Speaking carefully, as though reading from a prepared script.
"Mrs. Moretti, my name is James Chen. I'm calling because my mother asked me to contact you if anything happened to her. My mother's name was Anna Volkov-Chen."
I sat down hard.
"Anna was your mother?"
"Yes. She died three weeks ago. I've been trying to figure out what to do since then. She left instructions. Said if she died, I should contact you. Said you'd understand what she'd discovered and what to do with it."
"How old are you, James?"
