Pushing the internal battle aside, I forced myself to focus on the blast I had to post on Facebook for work in the next hour. I wished I hadn’t procrastinated all morning. My mind was everywhere except on the food festival I was supposed to be encouraging our followers to attend. Just as I was searching through the folder of image assets to pair with my commentary, the loud apartment buzzer went off, breaking my fragile concentration and making me jump in my seat. My heart raced from the surprise intrusion.

‘Who could that be?’ I mumbled to myself, noting the time on my phone said 12:32PM.

There was a missed call and voicemail notification I hadn’t seen until now. I would check the message after I was done with this post. Realizing I hadn’t turned the volume back on my phone after waking up this morning, I switched it back on. Normally I ignored random buzzers, as living in New York, especially in a first-floor unit, I had grown cautious of granting unexpected strangers access to our building. But after a few moments, the buzzer impatiently rang out again. I moved the laptop to the cushion next to me and rose from the couch, walking to the intercom box by my front door.

‘Who is it?’ I asked.

‘Special Agents Hannigan and Beck,’ Hannigan’s familiar voice reverberated over the crackling speaker.

‘Really? Right now?’ I said into the empty room. Had there been a development? I hadn’t seen anything public on my news alerts.

Then a surge of fear danced around in my belly. After the last trip to Connecticut and the talk with my mom, I wasn’t so sure about Cris anymore. The background check on Adam had given me a potential alternative suspect to hold onto, but what if they’d found more incriminating evidence against Cris, closing the door on that part of my family forever? Or what if they knew I’d been investigating on my own despite their warnings and were here to scold me?

I ran a hand through my hair, flipping a section of it over to the other side of my face. I paused for a moment, nerves and curiosity wrestling in the pit of my stomach. Steadying myself for whatever was about to be revealed, I clicked the button to unlock the exterior door. As I waited by my door, I looked down at what I was wearing. ‘Great,’ I mumbled, taking in my green yoga pants, favorite oversized black t-shirt with a hole near the collarbone, and fuzzy socks. I wasn’t sure my work from home attire was appropriate for a meeting with the FBI but they’d caught me off guard. After a moment I heard the knock signifying their arrival. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I unlocked both the deadbolt and door handle locks, opening the door.