My voice sounded thinner than I wanted it to.

There was a long silence on the other end, filled only with the faint hiss of static.

“Emma,” he said.

His voice was lower than I remembered, rougher around the edges.

“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” he said.

“I almost didn’t,” I said, stepping out into the damp chill of the alley.

Sarah followed me, pulling her hood over her head.

The cold rain stung my cheeks.

“We need to talk,” Blake said.

“I know,” I said. “I’m on my way to New York right now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “I’m at the Chicago office. The tower on Wacker.”

I stopped under the overhang of a brick warehouse.

“You’re in Chicago?” I asked.

“For another three hours,” he said. “Then I fly back to Manhattan.”

“Stay there,” I said. “I have something you need to see.”

“Is it about the boys?” he asked.

There was a sudden tightness in his voice.

“It’s about everything, Blake,” I said. “Just stay there. Don’t let your mother know I’m coming.”