Grace woke slowly. The room was dim.
The nurse had given her something that made her sleep deep.
When she opened her eyes the light outside was low and thin. It was already evening.
She sat up and the world blurred for a second. Her hands trembled.
She reached for her phone. No answer.
She called Donald and it went straight to voice mail.
Her chest tightened. She tried again, then again. Nothing. Every ring felt like a small knife.
She dressed slowly. Her wound hurt when she moved.
She remembered the hotel, the fight, the hand on her neck. She remembered the fear.
Tears came and she let them. She felt small and raw. She thought of the flash drive and the envelope.
She thought of the file in her bag. She thought of the men in the car. She thought of the stadium. Her head ached with every piece of news.
A knock came. Grace thought it was Donald. She stood up before she reached the door.
