"Anger hides worry."
Eli started the car. The engine coughed to life, heater blasting cold air that would eventually turn warm.
"Where are we going?" Silver asked.
"Somewhere we can talk without being interrupted." He pulled out of the parking lot.
Silver watched him. The tension in his jaw. The white knuckles on the steering wheel—the ones that weren't already bruised.
"Just tell me now," she said. "Whatever it is."
"I need to show you something first."
"Eli—"
"Please. Five minutes." His voice was strained. "Then I'll explain everything."
Silver pulled out her phone. Looked at that anonymous message again. You might want to ask your hockey prince what really happened in Boston.
"Who keeps sending these?" she asked. "Who has my number and knows what's happening?"
"I have a theory." Eli turned onto Chapel Street, heading away from campus. "But I need to confirm something first."
"What theory?"
He didn't answer. Just drove.
