Chapter 3 - What Marcus Hid
I stared at the blanket.
That blanket had belonged to Marcus.
Not as a baby blanket.
As a piece of his mother’s old quilt.
When I was pregnant, he had taken it to a seamstress and asked her to turn the softest section into something for Ava.
I had used it nearly every day since she was born.
I never noticed anything.
The SUV swerved.
I tightened my hold on Ava.
Reed ended the call.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Blocked number.”
“He knew about the blanket.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
The gray sedan remained behind us.
Reed spoke to the driver.
“Lower Wacker.”
The driver nodded.
The SUV turned sharply.
Concrete swallowed us.
Streetlights flashed overhead.
Ava began crying.
“Shh.”
My fingers found the thick section in the blanket hem.
Definitely something there.
I tried to tear the stitches.
Reed caught my wrist.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know what’s inside.”
“It’s a blanket, not a bomb.”
“You don’t know that.”
I stared at him.
He released my wrist.
That possibility had not occurred to me.
My stomach twisted.
“We need to get Ava away from it.”
Reed immediately removed his coat.
“Give me the baby.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
“Then give me the blanket.”
I pulled it away from Ava and wrapped her in Reed’s coat instead.
The coat swallowed her.
For one strange second, my daughter disappeared inside something that smelled like expensive cologne, winter air, and Reed Callaway.
I passed him the blanket.
He placed it carefully on the floor.
The gray sedan vanished from sight.
The driver turned again.
Then again.
“Lost them,” he said.
Reed didn’t relax.
We emerged near the river.
Ten minutes later, we entered an underground garage beneath a building I had passed a hundred times without knowing Reed lived there.
Security doors closed behind us.
Men checked the SUV.
Another elevator required both a key and a fingerprint.
“Paranoid much?” I whispered.
Reed looked at me.
“Still think coming here was a bad idea?”
I had no answer.
The penthouse was not what I expected.
No gold statues.
No guns displayed on walls.
No women in evening dresses waiting with champagne.
It was quiet.
Dark wood.
Stone.
Huge windows overlooking Chicago.
The kind of place that cost more per month than I would earn in ten years.
A middle-aged woman approached.
“Mr. Callaway.”
“Margaret, this is Elena and her daughter Ava.”
Her eyes moved over me.
She didn’t ask questions.
“Of course.”
“Prepare the west guest suite.”
“Already done.”
Reed stared.
Margaret shrugged slightly.
“You texted that an infant was coming. I assumed they would require somewhere to sleep.”
For the first time, I almost smiled.
Reed gave her the blanket.
“Do not touch the hem.”
Margaret’s expression sharpened.
“I’ll put it on the dining table.”
“Thank you.”
Then she turned toward me.
“I ordered several types of formula because Mr. Callaway apparently believes babies accept whatever brand appears first on a delivery app.”
Reed looked offended.
“I ordered six.”
“Exactly.”
I actually laughed.
It escaped before I could stop it.
Reed looked at me.
I covered my mouth.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
The tension broke for half a second.
Then the blanket reminded us why we were there.
Reed called one of his men upstairs.
His name was Adrian.
He wore gloves and carried a small tool kit.
He examined the seam.
“Hand stitching,” he said.
“Recent?” Reed asked.
“No. Thread’s worn.”
My heart pounded.
“Open it.”
Adrian carefully cut three stitches.
He reached inside.
And removed a tiny flash drive.
Nothing else.
No bomb.
No note.
A flash drive.
I stared.
“Marcus.”
Reed looked at me.
“That likely belonged to him.”
“Can we open it?”
“Not on anything connected to my network.”
Adrian nodded.
“I’ll get an isolated laptop.”
He returned ten minutes later.
We sat around the dining table.
Ava slept in a portable crib Margaret had somehow acquired within an hour.
I kept glancing toward her.
The flash drive plugged in.
A password box appeared.
Of course.
“What would Marcus use?” Reed asked.
“Try Ava.”
No.
“My birthday.”
No.
“His birthday.”
No.
“Your anniversary.”
No.
I rubbed my forehead.
Marcus hated complicated passwords.
He reused everything.
But apparently not this.
Reed watched me.
“Something only the two of you knew.”
I thought.
Our first apartment number.
No.
The name of his dog.
No.
Then I remembered.
“Try 0419BLUE.”
Adrian typed it.
The screen opened.
Reed looked at me.
“What is that?”
“The day he found out Ava was a girl. He kept insisting the ultrasound tech was wrong because he had already bought a blue baseball glove.”
A folder appeared.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Cars.
License plates.
Shipping manifests.
Warehouse addresses.
Then videos.
Adrian opened the first.
Marcus appeared on screen.
My breath left me.
He was sitting inside his repair shop.
Alive.
Tired.
Scared.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If Elena is watching this, then I failed.”
I covered my mouth.
Ava slept six feet away.
Marcus continued.
“Elena, I’m sorry.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I told you the shop was clean. It wasn’t.”
Reed stood motionless behind me.
“I started moving cars for Rainer’s people because I owed money. Then I found out what they were using them for.”
Marcus looked off camera.
“Drugs. Guns. People.”
My stomach turned.
“I tried to get out. They said nobody leaves.”
He leaned closer.
“So I started keeping records.”
Reed muttered something under his breath.
Marcus continued.
“Names. Routes. Payments. Every cop they own. Every judge they paid. Every business they use.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
Reed’s face turned to stone.
Marcus looked terrified.
“If this reaches you, Elena, do not give it to the police.”
I stared at Reed.
Marcus continued.
“There are cops on Rainer’s payroll.”
My hands shook.
“Find Reed Callaway.”
Reed’s eyes snapped to the screen.
I turned.
“What?”
On video, Marcus said it again.
“Find Reed Callaway.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Marcus knew you,” I whispered.
Reed did not answer.
The video continued.
“He won’t trust you. You shouldn’t trust him either. But he hates Dominic Rainer more than he wants money, and that may be enough.”
Reed looked almost insulted.
I would have laughed if I wasn’t crying.
Marcus took a breath.
“There’s one more thing.”
The screen flickered.
He looked directly at the camera.
“Elena, if they tell you I’m dead, don’t believe them until you see—”
The video cut.
Static.
Then black.
I stood.
“No.”
Adrian clicked.
Nothing.
“That’s the end of the file.”
“No.”
I grabbed the laptop.
“There has to be more.”
“Elena.”
“No!”
Ava woke and started crying.
I rushed to her.
My entire body shook.
Reed stood several feet away.
Marcus’s voice repeated in my head.
If they tell you I’m dead, don’t believe them.
“But I saw him,” I whispered.
Reed heard.
“What exactly did you see?”
“At the hospital.”
“His face?”
I froze.
“What?”
“Did you see his face?”
I tried to remember.
Blood.
Machines.
A sheet.
A detective telling me not to look.
I had insisted.
They pulled the sheet down only to his chest.
His face was swollen.
Bruised.
One side wrapped.
I had touched his hand.
There was Marcus’s wedding-ring-shaped tan line.
But we weren’t married.
He wore a silver ring anyway.
The body had the ring.
I suddenly felt sick.
“His face was injured.”
Reed looked at Adrian.
“Pull the coroner file.”
Adrian started typing.
Minutes passed.
Then his expression changed.
“No digital photos.”
“What?”
“File was sealed.”
“By who?”
Adrian read a name.
“Detective Paul Mercer.”
I knew that name.
He was the officer who came to my apartment after Marcus died.
The one who told me not to ask questions.
The one who said robberies happened every day.
Reed looked at me.
“You know him.”
I nodded.
His phone rang.
Adrian answered.
He listened.
Then looked at Reed.
“We have movement downstairs.”
“How many?”
“Unknown.”
“Police?”
“No.”
A knock sounded at the penthouse door.
Everyone froze.
Nobody reached Reed’s floor without security.
Reed drew a gun from beneath his jacket.
I pulled Ava against me.
Another knock.
Then a familiar voice came through the door.
“Elena?”
My knees nearly gave out.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it in my dreams for eight months.
May you like
“Elena, open the door.”
Marcus was standing on the other side.
