It was a gray Tuesday when a man appeared at the front desk asking for information on Olivia Harper. Elise noticed him immediately. He had a nervous energy beneath polite manners. He handed over a small envelope and said he couldn’t stay long. The return name on the envelope only read, “A”.
The receptionist called Elise because she knew Elise knew Olivia. “She’s not scheduled today,” Elise told him, but curiosity tugged at her. The man looked harmless. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, and his clothes were simple but clean. “Could you give this to her when she’s in?” he asked softly.