CHAPTER 8
Kennedy stared at her phone when it rang at her. It was a local number, but it wasn’t in her contacts list. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m calling from the T station. Can you hear me?” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“Yeah. Who’s this?” She’d only been in the ER waiting room for a short time. Sandy had come to take Woong back with her a few minutes earlier. At that point, there was still no word on Carl’s condition.
“It’s me. Ian.”
“Who?”
“Ian. Ian McAlister.”
“Oh.” Kennedy pictured the journalist with his shock-red hair. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d last spoken with him. Over a year probably. Why would he be calling her?
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something. Is now a good time?”
Ian was the kind of journalist who seemed to know e
