“He won’t expect it in front of his boss and colleagues,” I said.

“Exactly,” Annika said. “We will have a process server walk right into that dining room.”

“Meet me at the coffee shop on 4th Street tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

“Make sure he thinks you are running errands for the party.”

“I will,” I said.

I ended the call and stared at the dark screen.

My arm throbbed in the tight fiberglass.

Suddenly, the stairs creaked.

The hallway light flickered on, casting a long shadow across the living room floor.

Derek was standing at the top of the staircase, holding his phone.

The screen of my own phone lit up with a new message alert from an unknown number.

I slid my thumb over the screen to quiet the vibration.

My heart hammered against my ribs, loud in the quiet house.

“Who is texting you at this hour?” Derek asked, his voice flat.

He took two slow steps down the stairs.

The wooden banister creaked under his weight.

I slid my phone into my apron pocket, keeping my hand over the fiberglass cast.