“Mrs. Whitman,” a man said carefully. “This is Samuel. The restaurant manager.” Her heart jumped. “I debated calling,” he continued. “But I didn’t want you making any decisions before seeing something.” “Seeing what?” Clare asked. There was a pause—not uncertain, but deliberate. “I reviewed the security footage again,” Samuel said.
“And there’s something you need to see. Something that happens before anything falls.” Clare closed her eyes. “I think there’s more to what happened that night,” he added quietly. “And I don’t think it started with you.” The fog in her head shifted—not gone, but disturbed. “When?” she asked. “Whenever you can,” Samuel said. “But I wouldn’t wait.”