The caller ID showed a name that made her freeze.

It was my father’s name.

The screen flashed in the dark alley, the silence between us heavier than the roar of the fire.

Holt stared at the screen, her jaw tightening.

She looked from the phone to me, her gun hand trembling.

“Answer it,” I whispered.

The phone kept ringing, the vibration humming against her coat.

And from the front of the building, the sound of Beatrice’s car door slamming shut echoed through the night.

The engine roared, tires screeching on the gravel as they began to pull away.

But Holt didn’t move.

She slowly reached into her pocket with her left hand, her eyes never leaving mine.

She swiped the screen.

She pressed the phone to her ear.

The voice on the other end was loud enough for me to hear through the cold night air.

“Is it done?” the voice asked.

It was a voice I recognized instantly.

But it wasn’t my father.

It was Liam’s voice.

I stared at the phone in Holt’s hand, my breath freezing in the air.