locked the front door, then took the box into the kitchen where she set it on the table and opened it. A pepperoni and mushroom pizza stared back at her and tucked beneath one edge of the crust was a small envelope that was already drawing grease.
She pulled it free and opened it.
Tomorrow night. Six o’clock at Cactus Grill on Scottsdale Road.
The woman she’d spoken to on the phone had said she’d be contacted.
Contact made.
Lynn sank down at the table and pulled a piece of the cheese-laden pizza free. As she took a bite of the pizza she tried to still the feeling that she was in way over her head and this might be her symbolic last supper before her life exploded into something she no longer recognized.
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