Chapter 14: The Copy

Sullivan's POV

The purge request died at 7:42 that evening, when Sonya pressed one button on her phone and I heard her breathe out.

The vendor sent a confirmation email.

I printed it, stapled it to the certified copy of the logs, and put both in a manila envelope.

Then I put the envelope on the passenger seat of my truck, because I did not trust it in a building Calvin Roark had a key card to.

I had told her I'd carry the folder to the dinner.

That did not require me to drive across town at nine o'clock at night.

I drove across town at nine o'clock at night.

The Roark house was a two-story brick on Maple Avenue with a porch light on and a wind chime in the side yard.

Sonya opened the door before I knocked.

She had changed into a gray sweater with the sleeves pushed up.

The tape on her palm was fresh.

"You didn't have to bring it," she said.

"I know."

"Come in."

The kitchen was warm and smelled of toast.

June sat at the table with the folder open in front of her and her head on her arm, asleep.

Sonya put a finger to her lips, took the envelope from me, and set it by the sugar bowl.

Then she poured coffee into two mugs without asking if I wanted it.

I did.

She handed me mine, and her fingers slid over mine on the handle for a moment longer than the handing took.