“Yes,” said James with a low voice, as he was now walking through a sleeping and quiet neighborhood.
“Your girlfriend is named Sandy Mitchell. She’s twenty-nine and works downtown.”
“Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait. What is this? Who are you?”
“Do not interrupt me again,” said the aggressive but calm, almost metallic, voice.
“You hung up on us earlier; do not do that again. You will receive an e-mail in thirty minutes. It will contain an attached file. The e-mail will then disappear, but you must look at the file. Do not show it to anyone, or Sandy is gone.”
Who knew James and his personal life that well, and who would make such a threat on Sandy? The city was drunk or asleep, but he was feeling numb and terribly afraid. In fact, James was more frightened than he ever had been. He started to run to get to the apartment as soon as he could. He had left so early, and he had not even had time to check on Sandy. Oh God, was she okay? Would he find her home? Was she hurt?
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