The cool coastal wind rattled the windowpane against its frame.

I walked over to the window and looked down at the street.

The yellow fog from the ocean was rolling in, swallowing the light from the single streetlamp outside.

The road was empty.

I pulled the heavy curtains shut, blocking out the night.

When I went back downstairs, Robert was typing rapidly on his laptop.

His face was illuminated by the harsh white glare of the screen.

“I’ve already sent the image to the local sheriff,” Robert said without looking up. “And to our contact at the federal level.”

“He’s watching them, Robert,” I said, my voice trembling.

“He wants you to think he is,” Robert said, finally stopping his typing. “It is an intimidation tactic.”

He shut his laptop halfway, looking at me directly.

“But he made a mistake,” Robert added. “This is a direct threat to a witness in an ongoing legal proceeding.”

“Is Vanessa safe?” I asked, sitting back down.

Vanessa was staying at a small, secure motel three miles up the highway.

“She is fine,” Robert said. “I spoke with her attorney ten minutes ago.”