I looked up at Gabriel, who was watching the traffic outside the window, his expression calm.

The air in the car suddenly felt very cold.

I looked down at the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen as the next photo began to download.

The progress bar crept slowly toward the right, and I held my breath.

The image resolved, showing a dated wire transfer receipt.

At the top of the receipt was a name I recognized, but it wasn’t Richard’s or Ethan’s.

The driver turned the car onto the expressway, the tires humming against the concrete.

I stared at the name on the screen, the world outside the window blurring into a streak of gray and glass.

The phone vibrated once more, the screen flashing with an incoming call from a number I had blocked months ago.

I hesitated, my finger trembling over the glass.

The screen kept flashing, lighting up the dark interior of the car.

“Claire?” Gabriel asked, turning to look at me. “Is everything alright?”

I did not answer.

I just watched the name on the screen blink in the quiet car.