CHAPTER 9
711 Words
Eva chose the meeting place carefully.
Neutral ground. Public enough to discourage violence, private enough to allow discomfort. A hotel lounge—quiet, tasteful, and expensive in a way that reminded people of consequences.
She arrived early.
Not to wait, but to observe.
When Daniel Pierce walked in, she recognized the tension immediately. His smile was practiced. His shoulders were not. He scanned the room once too often before spotting her.
Eva didn’t wave.
She let him come to her.
“Eva,” Daniel said warmly, extending his hand. “I’m glad you called.”
She stood but did not take his hand. “Sit.”
The word was gentle.
Daniel obeyed before he realized he had.
“How have you been?” he asked, settling into the chair. “I can’t imagine what this has been like for you.”
Eva folded her hands in her lap. “You imagine plenty,” she said. “You’ve always had an active imagination.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his face, quickly smoothed away.
“I was devastated,” he said. “Your husband was my friend.”
Eva nodded. “That’s what you told the police.”
Daniel smiled, relieved. “Because it’s true.”
She leaned back slightly. “Then this should be easy.”
“What should?”
“Answering a simple question,” Eva replied. “Why did you lie about the last time you saw him?”
The air shifted.
Daniel blinked. “I—what makes you think—”
“You signed out of the office at six,” Eva continued calmly. “Security footage shows you leaving at eight forty-three. That’s not an error. That’s a decision.”
Daniel laughed softly. “Eva, you’re grieving. You’re looking for—”
“For patterns?” she interrupted. “I’ve built a career on them.”
His smile thinned.
“We spoke briefly,” he admitted. “Work-related.”
“About what?”
“Nothing important.”
Eva waited.
Silence had always been her sharpest tool.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Your husband was… worried. He thought someone was watching him.”
“And you told him?” Eva asked.
“To be careful,” Daniel said quickly. “That’s all.”
Eva nodded slowly. “Interesting.”
Daniel relaxed slightly.
She leaned forward.
“Because he said the same thing to me,” she added. “But he mentioned your name.”
Daniel froze.
Just for a second.
Long enough.
“He said you were nervous,” Eva continued. “That you’d asked him to delay something. Do you remember that?”
Daniel swallowed. “I don’t know what he meant.”
Eva smiled faintly. “That’s strange. Because I know exactly what he meant.”
She reached into her bag and placed a single document on the table.
Daniel stared at it.
“I wouldn’t touch that,” Eva said mildly. “Fingerprints complicate things.”
His face had lost its color.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “This wasn’t supposed to come out.”
“No,” Eva agreed. “It was supposed to disappear. Along with my family.”
Daniel leaned closer, his voice low. “You’re putting yourself in danger.”
Eva met his gaze, unflinching. “You already did.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, Daniel spoke. “Your husband was trying to protect you.”
Eva felt the words settle—not as comfort, but as confirmation.
“From what?” she asked.
Daniel shook his head. “I can’t say.”
“You already have,” Eva replied. “Just not directly.”
She stood, smoothing her coat. “This conversation never happened.”
Daniel looked up at her, panic fully visible now. “Eva—”
“You’ll receive a call soon,” she continued. “When you do, you’ll tell the truth. Carefully. Selectively. Enough to keep yourself safe.”
“And if I don’t?”
Eva paused.
“Then I stop protecting you,” she said simply.
She walked away without another glance.
Behind her, Daniel remained seated, staring at the document as though it might detonate.
Outside, Eva inhaled deeply.
This was no longer theory.
It was movement.
And movement created pressure.
- Writer
