A week had passed since the night shift adventure with Jane Doe, and the ripple effects were starting to turn into waves.
*
Kathleen paced the length of living room. Every few seconds, her eyes flicked toward the television screen mounted on the wall. The headlines were crawling across the bottom of the screen in bright red, and with every word, her stomach twisted tighter.
Harry wasn't home—he was at the office, likely buried in meetings—and for the last hour, she hadn't been able to get a hold of him.
Her hands shook as she picked up her phone for the fifth time. She dialed his private number, her breath hitching as the line rang. Finally, he picked up.
"Kathleen?" Harry's voice came through, sounding strained and edgy, a far cry from his usual confident tone.
"Have you seen the news?" Kathleen asked. She didn't bother with a greeting. The fear in her voice was thick, almost suffocating.
