In Chicago, Sam paces her bedroom, circling her bed with the nervous energy of a caged tiger. She'd had an ear to the ground for years, waiting for this day. And now... Three letters. Three independent sources. Three clues, all pointing the same way. Dammit, why now? Not that later would be any better. Gotta go, gotta get to... but there's so much going on right now. To drop everything... But... She stops, and sighs. She may not like it, but the decision is obvious. She looks out her window to the vast, snow-covered lawn and sighs. A thief must always be ready to pack up and move. She's gathered too many attachments. This is not a mistake, but it has a price. Time to pay up. She pulls out a phone and sends her girlfriend a text, actually using proper grammar. "Hey, Tona. Something came up. We need to talk. It's important. Mind making sure there's space in the broom closet? -Sam" This is going to suck.