THE PARTNER I SHOULDN'T TRUST
1855 Words
Valentina Cross arrived forty-seven minutes later.
Declan saw her car pull up behind his—a gray sedan that had seen better days, with a cracked bumper and duct tape holding the side mirror in place. She sat behind the wheel for a full thirty seconds, scanning the street, the house, the windows. Old habits. She'd been doing that since their field days.
Then she got out and walked toward him.
She looked older than he remembered. Her silver hair was longer, pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her face was thinner, the lines around her eyes deeper. But her gaze was the same—sharp, assessing, cataloguing every detail of his appearance and filing it away for later.
"You look like hell," she said.
"I feel worse."
She stepped past him into the house and stopped when she saw the bloodstain.
"This is where she lived?"
"Lara Vance. Thirty-four. Former teacher. Current patient of Holloway Psychiatric Hospital." He handed her the journal. "Read the last few entries."
Valentina flipped through the pages, her expression darkening with each word. When she finished, she closed the journal and looked at him.
"Her brother is Elias Vance."
"You know him?"
"I know of him. Everyone in surveillance knows of him. He's funded half the mental health research in the state. He sits on six boards. He's worth more money than God." She shook her head. "And he's been keeping his own sister drugged and locked away."
"That's what the journal says."
"The journal says a lot of things. It doesn't say why you got involved."
Declan ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know why I got involved. I don't remember any of it. The first thing I remember is waking up this morning with a photograph on my nightstand and forty-eight hours missing from my life."
Valentina was quiet for a long moment. Then she walked to the wall of photographs and studied them.
"Someone else took these," she said. "Not you. The angles are wrong. The lighting is wrong. These were taken by someone who knew where the cameras were hidden. Someone who had access to this house before you ever set foot in it."
"The blackmailer."
"Or Elias himself. Or someone working for him." She turned to face him. "You're being played, Declan. The question is whether you're the target or the weapon."
"Which is worse?"
"Neither. Both get you killed." She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the photographs on the wall. "We need to find Lara before Elias does. If she's still alive, she's the only one who can tell us what really happened."
"The blackmailer said I took her somewhere. A safe place. Somewhere no one would look."
"Do you have any idea where?"
He shook his head. "I've been trying to remember. Nothing's coming back. Just fragments. A basement. A hospital. A man in a gray coat."
Valentina stopped taking pictures. "A man in a gray coat?"
"Finn mentioned him. My son. He said a man in a gray coat has been watching him at school. Talking to him."
"Jesus, Declan." She put her phone away. "If Elias is involving your son—"
"He's already involving my son. He's been talking to Finn for weeks. Telling him my brain is broken. Telling him I'm dangerous."
Valentina grabbed his arm. Her grip was stronger than it looked. "Listen to me. You need to disappear. Right now. If Elias has access to your son, he has access to the police. He could have you picked up within the hour."
"I can't disappear. I need to find Lara."
"You can't find Lara if you're in a holding cell. Or worse." She let go of his arm and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside. "We need to go off-grid. Somewhere Elias can't track us. I have a place. A cabin about two hours north. No cell service. No internet. No cameras."
"What about Finn?"
"Finn is with his mother. He's safe for now. Elias won't touch him—not directly. He's too careful for that. He'll use Finn as leverage, not as a target."
Declan wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that they stay, that they search the house again, that they find some clue that would lead them to Lara.
But Valentina was right.
He couldn't help anyone if he was in custody.
"Two hours north," he said. "Then what?"
"Then we figure out who Elias Vance really is. And we figure out why he chose you."
---
They took his car.
Valentina's sedan was too recognizable—she'd been using it for surveillance for months, and anyone looking for her would know the plates, the make, the model. His car was newer, nondescript, a gray four-door that blended in with every other gray four-door on the road.
He drove. She navigated, using a paper map instead of her phone.
"No GPS," she said. "He can track your phone. Turn it off."
He pulled out his phone and powered it down. The screen went black. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of relief—like cutting a leash.
"The blackmailer said I had until noon," he said. "It's almost noon now."
"The blackmailer can wait. If they really wanted to turn you in, they would have done it already. They're playing a game. The question is what they want."
"Revenge? Money?"
"Information, maybe. Or maybe they just want to watch you squirm." She glanced at him. "You've made enemies over the years, Declan. The kind of enemies who hold grudges."
"I know."
"The case two years ago. The one that got you transferred to desk duty. You never told me what really happened."
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "There's nothing to tell."
"There's always something to tell. You came back different after that case. Quieter. More paranoid. You stopped trusting everyone, including me."
"I trusted you."
"No, you didn't. You trusted me to do my job. You didn't trust me with your secrets." She leaned back in her seat. "I'm not asking you to tell me now. I'm just saying—whatever happened on that case, it might be connected to what's happening now."
He didn't answer.
Because she was right. The case two years ago had changed him. Had shown him something he wasn't supposed to see. Something about the surveillance systems, about who was really watching, about the line between protection and control.
He'd tried to forget it. Buried it under work and divorce and sleepless nights.
But maybe the past didn't want to stay buried.
---
The cabin was deep in the woods, at the end of a gravel road that hadn't been maintained in years. Valentina's keys unlocked the front door, and they stepped into a space that smelled like pine and dust and silence.
No electricity. A wood-burning stove for heat. Propane for the camp stove. A well for water.
"It's not luxury," she said, "but it's off the grid. No one knows about this place except me."
"How did you find it?"
"I inherited it. From my father. He used to bring me here when I was a kid. Before he died." She set her bag on the kitchen table. "I've been using it as a safe house for the past six months. Whenever I got too close to something I shouldn't."
"Too close to Elias Vance."
"Too close to a lot of things." She pulled out two chairs and sat down. "Tell me everything you remember about the missing time. Even the fragments. Especially the fragments."
He sat across from her and closed his eyes.
"I remember a basement. Cold. Concrete walls. Fluorescent lights that flickered."
"What else?"
"A door. A heavy door. Metal. With a keypad."
"Could you see the numbers on the keypad?"
He shook his head. "Just the shape of it. The feel of it. My fingers pressing the buttons."
"Anything else? Sounds? Smells?"
"Antiseptic. Like a hospital. And..." He hesitated. "Crying. Someone was crying. A woman."
"Lara."
"I think so. But I couldn't see her. Just hear her. She was behind the door."
Valentina leaned forward. "You were trying to get to her. To rescue her."
"I was trying to get to her. But something stopped me. Someone." He opened his eyes. "Elias. He was there. In the basement with me. Talking to me. Telling me I wasn't ready. Telling me I needed to wait."
"Wait for what?"
"I don't know. I don't remember."
The frustration was like a physical pain. The memories were there—he could feel them, pressing against the inside of his skull like caged animals. But every time he reached for them, they slipped away.
Valentina stood up and walked to the window. The woods were dark, the trees pressing close to the cabin walls.
"We need more information," she said. "About Elias. About Holloway. About what's really going on in that basement."
"I have a contact inside Holloway. A security guard. Thomas."
"Can you trust him?"
"He owes Valentina a favor. My Valentina. Not me. He doesn't know me."
She turned from the window. "Then we use him. Tonight. We go back to the city and break into Holloway."
"Tonight?"
"The longer we wait, the colder Lara's trail gets. And the more time Elias has to cover his tracks." She pulled out her phone and turned it on. "I'll call Thomas. Arrange a meeting. We'll go in after midnight."
"What about the blackmailer?"
"The blackmailer can wait. Lara can't."
Declan looked at his own phone, still powered down on the table. Somewhere in that device were more messages, more threats, more pieces of a puzzle he couldn't solve.
But Valentina was right.
Lara came first.
He picked up his phone and turned it on.
Twenty-seven new text messages. All from the same unknown number.
The first one: Noon has come and gone. You made your choice.
The second: You're with Valentina Cross. I know where you are. The cabin in the woods. Cute.
The third: But you can't hide from me. And you can't hide from what you did.
The fourth: I'm not your enemy, Declan. I'm the only one telling you the truth.
The fifth: Elias Vance is going to kill his sister. Tonight. Unless you stop him.
The rest were variations of the same message. A countdown. A warning. A plea.
He handed the phone to Valentina.
She read the messages, her face going pale.
"He knows about the cabin," she said.
"He knows everything."
"Then we don't have until midnight. We have to go now."
Declan stood up. "Then let's go."
They grabbed their bags and headed for the door.
The woods were dark. The car was cold. The road stretched out before them, leading back to the city, back to Holloway, back to the basement where Lara Vance was waiting.
And somewhere behind them, in the trees, a pair of eyes watched them go.
The man in the gray coat stepped out from behind a pine.
He smiled.
Then he pulled out his phone and typed a message.
They're on their way.
- Writer
