*Michael*
Shelby set a light green envelope down on the table in front of the FBI agents. At first, I thought it looked like a birthday card, but as Agent Gatlin pulled the card out, I noticed the big blocky letters on the front said get well soon.
“I’m done with this,” Shelby said, folding her arms in front of her.
I looked back at the card, confused, as a small polaroid picture slid out and landed face-up in front of me on the table. I saw Shelby’s face clearly, and my chest tightened to see a young man leaning down as though he was about to kiss her. They looked cozy together and comfortable.
Anger seared in my chest at the sight of the picture. I looked up at Shelby for an explanation, but she met my gaze firmly, revealing nothing.
