Marlowe
I didn't hear from Grant for two full days after that call, and the silence sat heavy in my chest despite my own genuine, unresolved thread with Whitfield still demanding attention alongside it — understanding some things simply couldn't be rushed toward resolution, however much I wanted certainty for everyone I loved all at once.
King and I used the quiet stretch to actually begin the careful work he'd promised — Reid pulling old prospect records, Bear cross-referencing whatever fragments of memory he could recall about Whitfield's departure decades ago, all of us moving with deliberate, measured caution instead of the reckless urgency I'd wanted just days earlier.
"Found something," Reid said, midway through the second afternoon, spreading a faded record across the garage work
