The truth always comes from the people you've already forgotten exist.
I'm staring at my laptop screen, re-reading the anonymous email for the hundredth time this week, when my office door opens without a knock. I don't look up. Harper's the only one who does that.
"You need to eat something," she says. "You look like hell."
"Thanks." I keep my eyes on the screen. The words blur together. Get out while you still can. "Really boosting my confidence here."
"Violet." Her voice shifts, gets that edge that means she's about to say something I won't like. "It's been three days. You can't just sit here obsessing over some cryptic email from a stranger."
"What if it's not a stranger?" I finally look at her. She's holding a paper bag from the deli downstairs, probably a sandwich I won't eat. "
