Who was that guy? The caller’s number had been blocked. Yarrow had been caught off guard. Hoping the call was from Molly, he’d answered without thinking. Saying that he was “Len,” and that Frank was in Costa Rica, was quick. But he’d likely blown it. The stranger sounded smart. Said he was an “old friend.” Yarrow didn’t recognize the voice and the guy didn’t give a name. He was smooth. Too smooth. And now he knew about Chicago. Assume the worst, Yarrow told himself in the shower. He didn’t know who’d called or how the guy had gotten his number, but he had his suspicions. His ex must’ve somehow put them on to him and they were getting close. He’d likely been sloppy along the way, probably with bank or credit cards. Sometimes he just didn’t think clearly. Old habits die hard. His mouth went dry. He forced himself to be calm. Relax. He needed to think now and it was difficult to think. He’d always known that sooner or later they’d pick up on something from Chicago.
