Chapter 22 · Ava Gets Three Calls

Ava's phone rang three times in twenty minutes.

I watched her face change with each one. First call, she frowned. Second, she set her coffee down hard enough the mug cracked. Third time, she pulled the Glock from under the counter and set it between us on the table.

"So," she said. "Which one are you?"

I kept my hands flat on the wood. "The one sitting in front of you."

"That's not an answer." Her eyes didn't leave mine. The gun sat there, black and small and very real. "First guy said he's got the drive. Wanted to meet at the old depot. Second one said the first one's a fake, told me to stay put, he's coming here. Third—" She tilted her head. "Third one said you're all real. All Mark Weston. And I should shoot whichever one shows up first."

My chest went cold. "You get a number on any of them?"

"Blocked. All three." She leaned back, arms crossed. The morning light through her kitchen window made the gun's outline sharper. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on, or do I start making executive decisions?"

I should've seen this coming.