Ever since she’d been back in the city, she’d simply gone to work and come home, staying as late as she could and putting in weekend hours with some of her colleagues. It had been necessary at first—she simply had so much to do. But now, not so much. She could go into the office, certainly, and she found it easier to void her mind of worries with all the silly minutiae of running a business, but her work, and the deal she’d brokered, was now running itself. The last time she’d been in a holding pattern like this between big projects, she’d taken a vacation, but the idea of going anywhere right now held no appeal. After all, if she could choose to go anywhere, she knew exactly where she’d choose.

She frowned. She was being stupid. She could fly to Colorado at the end of this summer, or maybe at the holidays, but certainly not sooner than that. She needed more time to allow some of these feelings to fade.

A chime sounded somewhere in her apartment, and after a moment, she recognized the tone—a text message on her phone. She so rarely checked her messages, it took her a moment to remember that she’d left the phone in her nightstand.

Her bedroom was even darker than the living room, and she almost tripped on a stray nylon, cursing it and herself for her earlier carelessness. She opened the nightstand to see a preview of the text pop up on her screen. She opened the message fully.

Delta Flight 2555, JFK to DIA

Departs 5:25 pm April 3

Arrives 8:05 pm April 3

Below this were her passenger details in a business-class seat. The sender seemed to be anonymous—no phone number attached—as if it had been sent by a machine. As she read the message, over and over, trying to make sense of it, she saw the little ellipses appear at the bottom of the screen, indicating another message was incoming.

Your driver, BILL, will arrive at 3:00 pm to transport you from YOUR ADDRESS to the DELTA TERM. JFK.

A few seconds later, her address appeared with a phone number for her driver, Bill. Once again she puzzled over this message, struggling to make sense of it all.

Only one person knew she was home right now, which meant only one person could have arranged the flight and driver. She closed her message app and called Ted, but the line continued to ring long enough that his answering message played. She called again, but the same thing happened. After trying a third time, she sat down heavily on her bed, her phone lying loosely in her lap, her legs liquid and weak.