Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I make my way to the exit, taking in the dreary décor and cheesy props before shooting over my shoulder, “The place can do with a makeover.”
The manager’s smile is indulgent. “Believe it or not, this is what our customers want. It’s not a place for men who want to conduct business and unwind with a few girls afterward. It’s a hit-and-run joint.” He stands taller. “That’s why we’re so successful. We know what we are, and we don’t pretend to be something different. What you see is exactly what our clientele expects when they’re looking for a place where they don’t want to be recognized.”
I thank the man and shake his hand before Reino and I take our leave.
“What about the police records?” Reino asks when we get into the car. “They must’ve listed an address.”
“I already had it checked out. She moved last year. The landlord said she didn’t leave a forwarding address.”
He starts the engine. “What about the mail? Did she get any he happened to keep?”
“Nothing except for junk mail. She doesn’t have a bank or store accounts, not even a loyalty card.”
“Clever. So no debt anywhere.”
“She must’ve paid for everything in cash.”
“No doubt from the tips she got from her clients as well as payment from dangerous mercenaries.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “Did you read the report I sent you on those two guys? Their jobs were sure as hell messy.”
Brutal, to say the least.
Reino shifts gears. “If her fingerprint is on those pearls, it’s because she handled them. Any news about where the jewelry was bought?”
“The pearls were restrung. The clasp doesn’t have a jeweler logo. They were probably stolen.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that Oxo has vanished. Those mercenaries didn’t work for themselves. They worked for someone, and that someone will want to make sure she keeps her mouth shut. If she’s as clever as she seems, she’ll also know that you’ll hunt her down and make her pay for what happened to Mrs. Morici. She’s not going to hang around and take her chances. By now, she’s either far away from here.” He pauses. “Or she’s six feet under.”
I curl my fingers in a fist on the armrest. “We better find out which it is.”
Not only because she could tell us who was in charge of kidnapping my wife. Not even because I’m definitely going to make her pay. I have another reason for wanting to find her.
My voice is gruff. “She knows Tatiana’s face. She’ll know the body we burned wasn’t Stacia Delacy.”
She may talk to the cops if they cut her a deal, and that’s a risk I can’t take.
Reino focuses on the road with a solemn expression. “I’ll make sure the security feed and card payment data from the club go to our tech team. They can sift through the information to see if anything comes up. In the meantime, I’ll send a team to the apartment listed in the police file. We need to talk to the neighbors. Somebody may know something.”
I nod. He knows the drill.
A notification pings on my phone. It’s an alert I set up for news concerning last night’s accidental fire. The incident is on the news.
The burner phone Reino keeps in the console rings. He pulls onto the curb and takes the call. After listening for a few seconds, he says, “Thanks,” before hanging up.
“That was our snitch.” He checks his side mirror before steering the car back into the traffic. “The feds are releasing the information they held back about the explosion today. He wanted to give us a heads up before it goes public.”
“Have they made arrests?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence to tie the bratva to the container of drugs they confiscated in a warehouse the mercenaries used for stocking their black-market arms.”
In that case, the death of their third suspect, Ms. Delacy, must’ve prompted the decision to go public. After her death, they can no longer keep her questionable involvement in the explosion quiet. There will be speculation about who put a home-made bomb in a bank safe box and why the mercenaries took her there.
What they’ll never guess is that my wife, who went missing for five fucking days—which were the longest five days of my life—knows where a valuable diamond necklace is hidden. They’ll never learn the real motive for what went down at Prosperity Bank.
The public has dubbed Prosperity as the unluckiest bank in the city. The label is all over social media. First, the so-called robbery and mysterious explosion happened and then the tragic boat accident. Clients are moving their funds elsewhere. Shares are plunging. Unless a miracle saves them, it’s only a matter of time before the prestigious financial institution crashes. Even though it’s tragic, the unavoidable sinking of the bank doesn’t affect me in the least.