Chapter 3“Can I speak with a prisoner, please?” Ashleigh said into her burner phone forty-five minutes after the van had left. The sidewalks of Kingston were so familiar, and it had been ridiculously easy to find exactly what she’d needed. She’d dropped off her backpack, though it was mostly empty, in a motel she’d rented for today and the following two days. She’d combed her hair in the cramped yellow bathroom, changed into the last remaining pair of clothing that she had in the backpack, and grabbed the phone from an electronic store around the corner from the motel. Since Ashleigh was so short, barely five feet two in sneakers, and her face had always been youthful, she most likely seemed like a university student just arriving for the holiday weekend, and needed to check in with their
