“My father?” I asked, my grip tightening on the door handle.

“Maybe,” Calvin said. “Or maybe Sterling is leaving.”

We watched the front door of the house open.

A man in a heavy wool overcoat walked out, followed by another figure.

The first man was Marcus Sterling. I recognized his silver hair even in the dim light.

The second man was taller, wearing a dark cap pulled low.

They stood on the porch, talking in hurried, tense gestures.

Then, the man in the cap handed Sterling a thick manila envelope.

Even from this distance, I could see the reluctance in Sterling’s posture as he took it.

My phone vibrated in my lap, the screen lighting up the dark cab of the truck.

It was an unknown number.

I swiped the screen and put the phone to my ear.

“Avery,” a smooth, unfamiliar voice said on the other end.

“Who is this?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“My name is Silas Vance,” the man said. “I believe you’re looking for me.”

I froze, my eyes locked on the figure in the dark cap standing on Marcus Sterling’s porch.