I tucked them into the deep internal pocket of my coat.

“Because if he doesn’t, I’ll give this to the district attorney myself.”

I looked out the window one more time.

The man with the umbrella was walking toward the front entrance of the building.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing Sarah’s arm. “The back stairs.”

We hurried down the narrow hallway, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the old carpet.

The air in the stairwell was cold and smelled of damp concrete.

As we reached the first-floor exit that led to the alley, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

My breath caught.

I pulled it out, expecting the unknown number again.

Instead, the screen lit up with a name I hadn’t seen on my caller ID in five years.

*Blake.*

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the green button.

The rain was starting to beat against the heavy metal exit door of the alley.

“Emma?” Sarah whispered, her hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to answer?”

I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Blake,” I said.