Rae doesn’t stir. I text her so she knows I didn’t get abducted in the nighttime—Had to run. Source finally agreed to meet. Will call later. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. xo Bean—then slip out the front door and pull it shut behind me as gently as I can. It’s 4:53 AM.
The forensic tech in question works out of the NYPD crime lab in Queens. He has access to evidence databases that would cement my entire investigation if the stubborn bastard would just agree to talk on background. I’ve been texting him on Signal for weeks, ever since Ochoa let something slip about this person maybe knowing something useful, but until right now, all I’ve gotten back is radio silence and one very firm “lose this number.”
Something changed his mind. What that something might be, I neither know nor
