CHAPTER SIX
At six in the evening, Remi locked up her office, already exhausted even though the worst part of the day still lay ahead of her. The revelations about someone hunting the cryptex, someone who obviously knew things she didn’t, had put her in an almost trancelike state, thinking and rethinking the possibilities.
Now she had to go to The Twenty-First Century Museum of Culture in Washington, D.C., where she felt sure the serial killer would strike next.
Remi trembled as she locked her office and checked for the third time that her can of pepper spray was in the inside pocket of her purse where she could get at it quickly.
While she felt afraid, she also felt strangely exhilarated. Someone was hunting for the cryptex, someone who might have a chance of actually finding it.
The
