Chapter 7 - THE SAFE HOUSE BY THE DOCKS
The heavy footsteps of Detective Han’s men echoed from the main market street two blocks away. flashlight beams swept across the wet brick walls above them.
"We can't stay here," the boy said, lowering the rusted knife slightly. "My name is Minh. My sister is Rosy. Mom told us if anything happened to her, we had to get to the old boatyard at Pier 4."
"I have a car parked near the harbor," Linh said quickly. "We take my car. It's faster."
Ten minutes later, Linh's faded green sedan pulled out of a darkened side street, its headlights switched off as it glided past two police cruisers speeding toward the market with sirens blaring.
Inside the quiet warmth of the car, Minh sat in the front passenger seat, still clutching his backpack, while little Rosy lay curled on the back seat, wrapped in a dry woolen blanket Linh kept in the trunk.
Linh drove with one hand on the wheel, her mind spinning in a vortex of shock and horror.
"Minh," Linh said softly as they drove along the coastal highway toward the docks. "Why did your mother have a photo of me? Why did she tell you to run from the woman in the grey coat?"
Minh pulled a crumpled, water-damaged envelope from his backpack and handed it across the console.
Linh clicked on the small overhead dome light. Inside the envelope was a weathered photograph taken six years ago—the night Mai vanished. It showed Linh standing outside the police station wearing her signature grey coat, talking to Detective Han.
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On the back, written in Mai’s familiar, elegant handwriting, was a hasty message:
If you see the woman in the grey coat with Han, run. She thinks she’s looking for me, but Han is using her to track me down.
