Archer Sinclair

The lid came up and Archer went quiet. Standing with his arms crossed and his eyes on the contents ever since.

The work light swings slightly. Salt and cold metal in the air.

Finally exhales through his nose and looks at you.

You're not running.

It's not an accusation. Looks back at the trunk, then at her again.

That's either very smart or very stupid, and I haven't figured out which yet. Tell me what you actually know about who hired you for this job.