I checked the pockets. Empty. I flipped the vest over. The back was blank, stripped of whatever large logo had once been there. I ran my hands over the thick inner lining, pressing into the quilted fabric.
Near the lower left seam, the fabric felt unnaturally stiff.
I went to the kitchen drawer, pulled out a paring knife, and carefully sliced the black thread. I reached two fingers into the hidden cavity and pulled out three items.
The first was a folded piece of paper. I opened it. It was a letter from a life insurance company, dated two weeks ago, confirming the cancellation of David's $250,000 policy. He had cashed it out for a fraction of its value. Where had that money gone?
The second item was a heavy brass key. It had a cheap yellow plastic tag attached to it that read SAFE-T STORAGE - UNIT 42.
The third item was a cheap, black burner phone.
I stared at the phone. My hands were shaking. I had picked up David's personal effects bag from the hospital just this morning. I had gone through his blood-stained jeans and found a greasy blue shop towel with a license plate number scrawled on it in black marker: TX 4F9-R. I had assumed it was just a customer's car from the shop. Now, staring at the burner phone, a sickening realization crawled over me.
David hadn't been the victim of a random hit-and-run. He was involved in something terrifying.
Suddenly, the burner phone vibrated against the wooden table.
The screen lit up. UNKNOWN NUMBER.
I stared at it, the buzzing sound echoing loudly in the quiet kitchen. My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the device. If I didn't answer, they would know I was hiding.
I picked it up and pressed the green button. I didn't speak. I just held it to my ear, listening to the heavy silence on the other end.
"I know you have it, Sarah," Brick's voice rasped through the tiny speaker, slow and deliberate. "Your husband owed the Wraiths a very large debt. He thought he could buy his way out. He thought he could hide. But the debt is due. I know where you live. And we're coming for the rest of it."
The line went dead.
CHAPTER 2
The phone slipped from my sweaty fingers, clattering onto the kitchen table.
For a terrifying, agonizing moment, the only sound in the house was the hum of the refrigerator. Brick’s voice echoed in my head. I know where you live. And we're coming for the rest of it.
Panic didn't just set in; it exploded inside me.
I grabbed the brass storage key, the burner phone, and the insurance cancellation letter, shoving them into the pockets of my cardigan. I snatched the leather vest off the table and ran to my bedroom. I pulled a large canvas duffel bag from the closet and started throwing things into it blindly. Jeans, sweaters, socks, underwear. I sprinted into Mia’s room, grabbing her favorite stuffed bear, a pair of sneakers, and whatever clothes my hands could gather in the dark.
"Mia, wake up," I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently but urgently. "Baby, we have to go. Right now."
She groaned, rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep. "Where are we going?"
"On a trip. Just a short trip. Put your shoes on."
I didn't wait for her to tie them. I scooped her up, grabbed the duffel bag, and practically dragged us out the back door. I didn't bother turning off the kitchen light. If Brick and his men were watching the house, I wanted them to think we were still inside.
I strapped Mia into the backseat of my beat-up Honda Civic, my hands shaking so badly I could barely engage the buckle. I threw the duffel bag onto the passenger seat, locked all the doors, and started the engine. I kept the headlights off until we were two blocks away, driving through the neighborhood like a ghost.
Every set of headlights that swept across my rearview mirror made my stomach plummet. Every rumble of a modified muffler made my breath catch.
I drove to the complete opposite side of town, pulling into the parking lot of the Starlight Motel—a rundown string of doors facing a highway, illuminated by a flickering pink neon sign. I paid for two nights in cash, keeping my head down, ignoring the bored stare of the night clerk behind the bulletproof glass.
Our room smelled like damp carpet and stale cigarette smoke. I locked the deadbolt, fastened the chain, and pulled the heavy blackout curtains shut tight.
Mia sat on the edge of the sagging mattress, clutching her stuffed bear, her eyes wide and terrified. The adrenaline of the escape was wearing off, leaving her small body shivering.
I knelt in front of her, taking her small face in my hands. "You are safe," I told her, putting every ounce of conviction I had into my voice. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise."
"Are the scary men looking for us?" she whispered.