The phone rang in the dimly lit office, and Damon Cooper picked it up with a hint of irritation. He glanced at the clock—nearly midnight.
"Hello?" Damon's voice was a gravelly rumble.
"It's me," the caller's voice crackled over the line. "I've got the update on Trisha."
Damon straightened in his chair, his interest piqued. "Go ahead."
The caller responded with a cold efficiency. "It's done. I followed her last night as planned."
Damon's tone was clipped, demanding more detail. "And?"
The caller continued, "I managed to get the power shut off in her new place. She's dealing with a blackout now. I left a note for her, just to add to the confusion."
There was a pause on the other end as Damon absorbed the information. "Good work. Did you observe any reactions?"
