CHAPTER EIGHT
Stella stifled a yawn that threatened to split her face in half as she raised her head up from her folded arms. She’d lowered it down onto the desk to rest her eyes for a moment and she must have fallen asleep, because she’d had a weird dream that Maxwell had been rapping on the window, begging to talk to her.
Quickly, she looked across at the opposite desk, hoping Carrie hadn’t seen this irrefutable evidence of exhaustion.
The desk was empty. Carrie must either have gone to the bathroom, or to the kitchenette to grab another coffee. Either way, she would have seen the shameful sight of Stella snoozing in the FBI Fairfield satellite office.
Feeling angry with herself, Stella checked the time, blinking her eyes, which felt grainy and dry.
It was already seven a.m.
Stella
