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Kat followed all of her evasion tactics.

She had to be especially cautious this morning, because she wasn't going to her new office, the one that Ash Pierce knew nothing about. She'd set up a P.O. box as a forwarding address for her business mail. The mail from that box was then forwarded to a second P.O. box, where she was currently collecting it.

She'd been slightly apprehensive about even showing up in person for this, but there had to be a point where she felt she'd taken enough precautions. And taking two different rideshares and one taxi to a flea market and then a metro station before coming to this hole-in-the-wall postal center felt like enough.

Still, she walked around the block once before entering, making sure to watch for any tails. When she entered the place and moved to the back where the mailboxes were, she kept an eye on the large mirror by the entrance, in case anyone came in. No one did.

She opened her box and removed the mail. There wasn't much. That was a good sign. The bulk of her correspondence was now coming to the new office. She hoped that soon, the stuff coming here would turn into a trickle, and she could just stop by once a month or so.

She flipped through the envelopes. Most of the items were easy to identify without even opening them. There were three pieces of junk mail solicitations, one bill that had been sent out before the office address change, and what she knew to be a check from an elderly client who didn’t trust “electronic banking.” Then she came to the last one.

It was a postcard. The front of it showed a man playing jai alai. Kat’s mouth went dry at the sight of it. Jai alai was once a hugely popular sport in Tijuana. For a long time, she just stared at the image.

Finally, she ordered herself to flip the card over. The address of her old office was written on one side. On the other side were two sentences:

Been missing you.

Be seeing you.

There was no signature. None was necessary.