Chapter 3
1659 Words
The alley behind the hotel reeked of garbage and rotting food. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to control my breathing as footsteps echoed nearby.
"Check the back exits," a man's voice called. "She couldn't have gone far."
My heart was hammered. I was trapped. The alley was a dead end, blocked by a chain-link fence too high to climb in my condition.
A door creaked open to my left. "In here. Quick."
I didn't recognize the voice, but I didn't have time to be picky. I slipped through the door into what looked like an abandoned restaurant kitchen.
The man who'd let me in was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and startling green eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"Someone who's been waiting a long time for you to wake up." He moved to the window, checking the alley. "They're gone. For now."
"That doesn't answer my question."
He turned to face me fully, and my breath caught. I did know him. Sort of.
"Dante Moretti," he said, confirming my suspicion. "We met at your engagement party. I was Marcus's college roommate."
I remembered now. He'd pulled me aside that night, asked me if I was sure about getting married. I'd laughed it off, thinking he was jealous.
"What are you doing here?"
"Saving your life, apparently." He crossed his arms. "Patricia Cole called me. Said you might need help."
"Why would she call you?"
"Because I've been investigating Marcus Hartwell for two years." He pulled out his phone, showing me a document. "I'm a private investigator. And your husband is a very bad man."
The document was a criminal complaint. Fraud, embezzlement, money laundering the list went on.
"This can't be real."
"It's very real." Dante pocketed his phone. "Marcus has been stealing from his own company for years. He's also got ties to some extremely dangerous people. People who don't like loose ends."
"I'm at a loose end."
"You're a witness. You lived with him, had access to his files, his computer, his conversations." Dante's expression was grim. "If any of this goes to trial, you could testify against him. He can't risk that."
"So he's trying to kill me?" My hand moved protectively to my stomach.
"I don't think he's decided yet. But those men outside? They're not here to invite you to lunch."
My legs felt weak. I sat down on an overturned crate. "This is insane. A week ago, my biggest problem was what to make for dinner. Now I'm running from hitmen?"
"Welcome to the real world." Dante crouched in front of me. "But here's the good news, you have something Marcus wants. Those photos Patricia gave you? They're nothing compared to what you could access."
"What are you talking about?"
"Marcus keeps everything on a private server. Bank records, communications, deals all of it. He's paranoid about cloud storage." Dante's eyes gleamed. "But you have access to his home office. You could get into that server."
"You want me to steal from him?"
"I want you to help me put him in prison where he belongs." Dante stood. "And in exchange, I'll make sure you and your baby disappear somewhere he'll never find you."
It was a terrible plan. Dangerous. Possibly illegal.
I should have said no.
"When do we start?"
---
Going back to the apartment was the worst idea I'd ever had. And that was saying something, considering I'd married Marcus in the first place.
But Dante was right. If I wanted to truly escape, I needed leverage. And the only leverage that mattered to a man like Marcus was proof of his crimes.
"Five minutes," Dante said through the earpiece he'd given me. He was parked down the block, monitoring security cameras. "Marcus is at dinner with Vanessa. You have a five-minute window before the building security does their rounds."
I slipped my key into the lock, half expecting it not to work. But the door opened smoothly. Marcus hadn't changed the locks yet.
Arrogant. He really thought I'd just disappear quietly.
The apartment was exactly as I'd left , modern, impersonal. I'd tried so hard to make it a home, but Marcus had shot down every suggestion. Too colorful. Too cluttered. Too much personality.
I headed straight for his office.
The door was locked, but I'd watched him open it enough times to know the code. His birthday. Because of course it was.
The room smelled like his cologne was expensive and suffocating. I moved to his desk, pulling out the laptop hidden in the bottom drawer.
"Password?" Dante asked in my ear.
I tried the obvious ones first. His birthday again. Our anniversary. His mother's maiden name.
Nothing worked.
"I can't get in," I whispered.
"Try Vanessa's birthday."
I did. The computer unlocked.
Of course. He'd changed it to her birthday.
"I'm in."
"Good. Plug in the USB drive I gave you. It'll copy everything."
I found the USB in my pocket and plugged it in. A progress bar appeared with an estimated time, twelve minutes.
"Dante, you said I had five minutes."
"I know. Work faster."
My hands shook as I waited for the files to copy. Every second felt like an eternity. Every small sound made my heart jump.
Three minutes.
Six minutes.
Nine minutes.
Come on, come on, come on.
"Elena, we have a problem." Dante's voice was tight. "Marcus just left the restaurant. He's heading home."
"What? You said I had"
"I know what I said! Get out of there. Now."
"The files aren't done copying!"
"Leave them!"
"No!" I couldn't. Not after coming this far. Not after risking everything.
Eleven minutes.
I heard the elevator ding in the hallway.
Twelve minutes.
The front door opened.
The USB drive ejected. I grabbed it, shoved it in my pocket, and dove under the desk just as the office door swung open.
Marcus's shoes appeared in my line of sight. Expensive Italian leather.
He walked to the desk, so close I could have reached out and touched him.
Please don't look down. Please don't look down.
His phone rang.
"What?" he snapped. Then: "No, I'm home. I forgot something." A pause. "Yes, I checked on Elena. She's still at that hotel, being pathetic."
He thought I was still at the hotel. He didn't know I was here.
"I'll be back in ten minutes," Marcus said. "Order dessert without me."
He grabbed something from the deskI couldn't see what and left.
I waited until I heard the front door close. Then I counted to sixty. Then another sixty.
Finally, I crawled out from under the desk.
"Are you alive?" Dante asked.
"Barely." My whole body was shaking. "I got it. I got everything."
"Then get out of there before he comes back."
I ran.
****************
Dante's apartment was nothing like I expected. Small, cluttered with case files and coffee cups, but oddly cozy.
"Here." He handed me a glass of water. "Drink."
I drank, trying to stop my hands from trembling. "That was too close."
"But you did it." He took the USB drive, plugging it into his own laptop. "These files could put Marcus away for twenty years. Maybe more."
"Good." The word came out harder than I intended. "He deserves it."
Dante looked at me with something like approval. "You're tougher than you look."
"I'm pregnant, not fragile."
"I noticed." His eyes dropped to my stomach, then quickly away. "When are you due?"
"Seven months. Give or take."
"And the father is definitely Marcus?"
The question shouldn't have stung, but it did. "Yes."
"I had to ask." Dante pulled up the files, his expression growing darker as he read. "Jesus Christ. Elena, this is worse than I thought."
"How much worse?"
He turned the laptop so I could see. Bank transfers to offshore accounts. Emails discussing bribes and kickbacks. Photos of Marcus meeting with known criminals.
And then I saw the worst one.
A contract. Signed six months ago.
For the murder of Patricia Cole's husband.
"Oh my God," I whispered.
"Marcus ordered a hit on Robert Cole," Dante said grimly. "Vanessa's father. Made it look like a car accident."
"Why?"
"Robert worked for Marcus. He found out about the embezzlement and threatened to go to the police." Dante scrolled through more files. "So Marcus had him killed. And then started an affair with his widow's daughter."
I was going to be sick.
"There's more." Dante pulled up another file. "Marcus has been planning to kill you for weeks. He was just waiting for the right moment."
The words didn't process at first. Then they hit me all at once.
Marcus wanted me dead.
Not just divorced. Not just gone. Dead.
"He's got a life insurance policy on you," Dante continued. "Two million dollars. And he's been communicating with the same guy who killed Robert Cole."
I stood up too fast. The room spun. Dante caught me before I could fall.
"Easy. Breathe."
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. The man I'd loved, the man I'd married, had been planning to murder me.
"We need to go to the police," I said.
"We can't."
"What do you mean we can't?"
Dante's expression was grim. "Because Marcus has half the police department on his payroll. We go to them with this, and you'll be dead before morning."
"Then what do we do?"
"We run." He started packing a bag, laptop, files, and cash. "We take this evidence somewhere safe and we figure out our next move."
"Where?"
"I have a cabin upstate. Remote. Off the grid. No one knows about it."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to say there had to be another way.
But looking at those files, at the proof of Marcus's crimes, I knew Dante was right.
We were out of options.
"Okay," I said. "Let's go."
We made it as far as the parking garage before they found us.
- Writer
