MIRELA

I stepped out of the diner and looked around. The parking lot was sparsely populated, and as I scanned the area, an SUV pulled into one of the vacant spots.

My heart skipped a beat when I thought it looked like Louis’s, but I relaxed when a teenager stepped out and hurried into the diner.

“Get a hold of yourself, Mirela,” I muttered, looking away. Louis was a loose end already tied up; I needed to focus on the task ahead.

I had to walk from here along the road heading south until the van picked me up for the remainder of the trip. After handling Arlene and her...