Michael hid.
He heard arguing.
Then gunshots.
The men discovered him before he could escape.
Somehow, he got away.
Police protection followed.
Then threats.
Then another witness vanished.
Michael panicked.
Rebecca had been working for an attorney whose brother had contacts in another state.
They helped Michael leave Chicago.
New documents.
New surname.
New life.
“Why didn’t he testify?” I asked.
“He intended to.”
“Then?”
“The prosecutor handling the case was found dead.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
“This sounds impossible.”
“It should.”
“Why come back to Chicago?”
“He didn’t. Not for years.”
“Then he met me here.”
“You met him in Evanston.”
I stared.
She was right.
I had always thought of it as Chicago.
But technically, Michael and I had met at a bookstore in Evanston.
“Did he choose me?”
Rebecca looked confused.
“What?”
“Was I part of his new identity somehow?”
“No.”
Her answer came immediately.
