The taxi ride from the airport Sutton didn’t remember. It wasn’t jet lag, but it hadn’t helped.

The only thing that stuck in her mind was the rain as it hit the windows of the taxi, and she watched the fat raindrops slide down the outside of the glass. Typical. New York had always had a sick sense of timing.

The driver didn’t speak much and thank God for that. Sutton didn’t have it in her to make conversation. She barely had it in her to breathe.

Her head throbbed. Her back ached. ...