Clutching the receiver, Camila Ruiz's eyes darted up, her urgency unmistakably seeping through.
"Who are you?"
Although Camila was desperate for news about Jimmy Horne, her rationality wasn't entirely lost, and she asked in a low voice.
"Don't ask who we are. You have two minutes. If you don't come out, then you'll lose the chance to hear about Jimmy Horne. Also, don't tell anyone, or you won't get the information you want." After speaking, the other party hung up the phone.
"Camila, who was that? Was it Brother Ivan?" Rachel Bailey came out of the kitchen. Ten years hadn't left much of a mark on Rachel Bailey; she looked more like Camila Ruiz's older sister.
"No," Camila replied composedly, "Wrong number."
Rachel Bailey didn't ask any further.
Camila put down the receiver, turned, and sat back on the sofa, reaching for an apple from the coffee table and bringing it to her mouth.
