He’s carrying a corrugated cardboard box covered with “Deliver by COB Friday” stickers. It’s got to be the documents from Mack Briggs. Usually I’d want to open it myself. After all, it’s addressed to me. But I’m the tiniest bit tired from last night and I’m trying to hide it because Franklin will be relentless for details. For now, I want to keep my memories of Josh—and my hopes—to myself. Franklin can focus on the box. As I watch him peel back the tape, though, I grow increasingly uncomfortable. We have no way of knowing what’s actually inside. It comes from someone we’ve never seen or even talked to in person. Our only connection has been by voice mail and e-mail, and we don’t know if it really was Mack Briggs on the other end. It could be someone pretending to be Mack Briggs, someone who knew we were looking for him. And the files. Someone who wanted to stop us. I’m an idiot. “Franklin?” I need to stop him. “What if the box isn’t from Mack Briggs, and…”
