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The call ended.
I stared at the blank screen.
Two hours.
Too long.
Mace reached for my hand.
I let him take it.
“What if Evan got her?”
“He didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
His thumb moved across my knuckles.
“But you heard the call.”
“The glass broke.”
“She screamed.”
“The gunshot—”
“The gunshot came after she ran.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“The sound changed.”
He leaned closer.
“She dropped the phone first.”
“Then we heard movement.”
“Then glass.”
“Then the shot.”
My mind replayed the call.
He was right.
The gunshot had sounded distant.
Muffled.
Not in the same room.
“She got outside.”
