The Miami heat hit me like a physical blow as we stepped onto the asphalt.

The humidity was thick, smelling of salt water and car exhaust.

Marisol drove me to a small, quiet hotel near Coral Gables.

The room was clean, smelling of bleach and cheap lavender.

I locked the door, slid the security latch, and closed the heavy drapes.

The room was plunged into a gray twilight.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Stephanie’s words.

*He was going to sell the condo.*

The condo was the only thing my parents had left me.

It was my sanctuary, the place I had fled to when the marriage first started to rot.

Now, it was just another piece of evidence.

My phone vibrated against the nightstand.

I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

I picked it up with a trembling hand and unlocked the screen.

It was an image.

The photo was blurry, taken through a rainy windshield.

It showed the front entrance of the hotel I was currently sitting in.