That employee was me.

Police had located a dangerous device near the parking spot I used every day. My supervisor later confirmed there was a note with my name on it and a chilling message: I was not meant to testify.

That was when everything clicked. I wasn’t just a staff member—I coordinated witnesses for a sensitive case linked to organized crime. I had recently reported an irregular detail in official records, something minor but critical.

Soon after, a man appeared at my door claiming to be a detective. Something felt off. I didn’t open it. Moments later, Graham texted me:
Don’t open the door. They followed me.