Chapter 40

The night was cold, and there was a faint mist that blotted LA’s street lights like an oil painting. Ethan made no note of the outside world, and instead thrust his valet receipt to the attendants without a word or a tip. As he waited for his car, the doors flung open behind him, and out strutted Deborah.

“Ethan.” Her voice was quick and demanding. Ethan didn’t even flinch. She approached him, eyes wider than they’d ever been. “You know. When was this? When did this happen?” Ethan didn’t answer. Deborah walked in front of him, her eyes cutting. “I need you to tell me what you know or this mess doesn’t get cleaned up.”

“Your car, Mr. Teller.”

Ethan didn’t look Deborah in the eye. He couldn’t. Instead, he motioned past her, hand extended for his car keys. Before he took them, Deborah grabbed his wrist. Finally, he was forced to turn to her, his eyes wild and afraid. Deborah’s expression had melted into worry.

“You shouldn’t be driving.”