Page 453 of Broken Oath

I open the car door.

The soft sound echoes through the garage.

Rainwater drips from my coat as I step out and sling my bag over my shoulder.

The copy of the recording is still inside it.

The original card is sewn into the lining of my coat.

Two chances.

It doesn’t feel like enough.

A shadow moves near the far stairwell.

I draw my pistol.

A man steps from behind a concrete pillar.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Dark jacket.

His hands are empty, but that doesn’t mean he’s unarmed.

He moves with a stillness that immediately identifies him as dangerous. Not restless. Not aggressive.

Patient.

The kind of man who can wait for hours without moving and then end a life between heartbeats.

I aim at the center of his chest.

“Stop.”

He stops.

His gaze drops briefly to my pistol before returning to my face.

He doesn’t look surprised.

Or afraid.

He looks exhausted.

Like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Evelyn Hart.”

His voice is low and controlled.

“Who are you?”

“Caleb McDougal.”

My breath catches.