He flipped open the folder and began signing, his handwriting slightly uneven. As he scribbled across the dotted lines, Evans launched into the necessary business talk—materials, the shipment delays from Italy, the updated timeline projections.
Winn nodded at all the right parts, answering in low distracted hums.
*****
Raphael heard the knock on the door that evening while he stood in his kitchen, pouring hot water into a mug. He glanced at the security monitor mounted near the door. A FedEx delivery guy stood there, holding a mid-sized package.
"Hmm," Raphael muttered, adjusting his glasses. "I didn't order anything."
But packages from work arrived randomly all the time. So Raphael shrugged, set the mug down, and unlocked the door.
The moment the latch clicked, the so-called delivery guy shoved forward, aiming a gun directly at Raphael's face.
