Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE SHADOWS
Adrenaline flooded my system. I snapped the false wood panel back into place, grabbed my flashlight, and retreated into the alcove of the floor-to-ceiling window, slipping behind the thick, floor-length velvet drapes just as the study door swung open.
I pressed my back against the cold glass, holding my breath, my hand instinctively dropping to the heavy taser resting in my coat pocket. Through the thin gap in the velvet fabric, I watched the doorway.
The person who stepped into the room wasn't Julian.
It was Clara.
Julian’s twenty-eight-year-old second wife. The woman he had flaunted during our divorce proceedings two years ago. But the polished, ice-queen persona she wore in public was entirely gone.
She looked shattered. Her hair was disheveled, her skin a sickly pale, and her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. Underneath a thick layer of hastily applied concealer on her left jawline, a dark, purplish bruise bloomed like an ugly stain.
She wasn't moving like a homeowner walking into her study. She was trembling, casting frantic, terrified glances over her shoulder toward the open hallway, listening for the sound of tires on the wet gravel outside.
Clara dropped to her knees right in front of the desk, her hands shaking so violently she could barely function. Without a second of hesitation, she popped the false panel open, pulled the safe's heavy handle, and punched in a six-digit code: 08-14-97.
The electronic lock beeped twice and disengaged with a heavy mechanical thud.
She reached deep into the steel vault, pulling out two items: a thick, faded yellow accordion folder tied with string, and a plain black, unbranded USB drive.
"Clara."
The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
Clara let out a strangled gasp, jumping backward so hard her head struck the edge of the desk. She dropped the USB drive onto the oriental rug.
I stepped out from behind the velvet curtains, keeping my flashlight pointed down at the floor to avoid blinding her, my hand remaining firmly near my pocketed weapon.
"Elena?!" she breathed, her voice cracking into a panicked whisper. Her eyes dilated in sheer terror. "What... what are you doing here?! If he finds you in this house, he’ll kill you!"
"He’s still ten minutes away, being driven back by his attorney," I said, my voice deadpan as I stepped into the dim light, my eyes locking onto the dark bruise on her jaw. "What is in that folder, Clara? Why did he try to freeze Maisie to death today?"
Clara collapsed back against the side of the desk, clutching her stomach as dry, violent sobs wracked her body. Tears tracked clean lines through the makeup on her cheeks.
"He’s not going to stop with Maisie, Elena," she sobbed, burying her face in her bloodless hands. "He’s spiraling. He knows the walls are closing in. If he goes down, he’s going to kill us all."
I stepped closer, kneeling beside her, my tone shifting from defensive anger to sharp, pragmatic authority. "Talk to me, Clara. Tell me what is in that safe, and I can take it to Vance. I can get you protective custody tonight."
"You can't protect anyone from him!" she cried out, shaking her head wildly. "You think you know who you divorced? You don't even know who he really is! His whole life... this house, his name, his company... it’s all built on a corpse!"
Before I could process her words, she thrust the heavy yellow accordion folder into my hands and shoved the fallen USB drive into my palm.
"Take it!" she whispered hysterically. "Go out through the balcony—there’s a fire ladder behind the trellis. Meet me at the Central Underground Parking garage on 4th Street in thirty minutes. If I’m not there by midnight... give those files to the FBI. Don't go back to the local police."
Downstairs, the heavy mechanical hum of the main garage door echoed through the structure’s frame.
May you like
Julian’s Mercedes had arrived.
Clara grabbed my jacket, her nails digging into my sleeve, shoving me toward the glass balcony doors. "Go! Now! If he sees us together, we’re both dead!"
