2
It took a while to sort it all out. Gina in one ambulance, sirens blaring, the dead man in another, sirens silent. Me back to the Agency for another barrage of questions.
But finally someone showed up with a bag of fresh clothes from my apartment, and one of Gina’s colleagues drove me to a hotel.
I took a long hot shower. I ate a burger and salad from room service. I drank a carafe of stale coffee and then I slept hard for the next seven hours.
I woke to a message on my phone: Gina was alive. She wanted to see me.
I smiled and my throat felt tight and tears misted my eyes. I hadn’t been sure she would make it. People die. I had spent the last few years since my parents died forcing myself to get used to it.
It was why I joined the Agency. Why I looked into files of men like Danic.
