Chapter 7 - The Black Mercedes
The rain outside St. Jude’s had turned into a steady, driving downpour, slicking the asphalt into a dark mirror reflecting the flashing red lights of parked patrol cars.
Detective Sarah tried to block the exit, her badge held out like a shield. “You’re not taking her anywhere, Moretti. That’s a material witness to a homicide scene.”
“She’s a target,” Dante corrected coldly, stepping past her with a swiftness that left the detective spinning. One of his guards smoothly stepped into Sarah’s path, blocking her movement just long enough for Dante to take my elbow.
“Chloe, don’t!” Sarah shouted over the hiss of the rain.
“I have to,” I whispered back, looking over my shoulder as a trusted pediatric nurse scooped Sophia into her arms to secure her in a private, locked ward. My daughter was safe inside the hospital walls for now, but the answers to the nightmare were outside in the dark.
Before I could pull away, Dante’s guard had opened the rear door of a sleek, armored black Mercedes idling by the ambulance bay.
Inside the cabin, the leather upholstery smelled of expensive cologne and damp wool. But it was the bound, whimpering figure slumped across the footwell of the back seat that made my breath catch in my throat.
“Amy?” I gasped, leaning forward.
My sister looked up, her hair matted with sweat and rain, her wrists loosely zip-tied behind her back. When she saw my face, a pathetic sob broke from her lips. “Chloe... oh God, Chloe, help me! They’re monsters! They’re going to kill me!”
Dante slid into the seat beside us, pulling the heavy armored door shut with a solid, echoing thud that cut off the outside world completely. He tapped the glass partition, and the front driver’s window slid up, sealing our privacy.
“She’s alive, Chloe,” Dante said flatly, crossing one long leg over the other as he turned his cool gaze toward my sobbing sister. “At least for another ten minutes. Which is how long you have to decide whether she goes to federal prison for accessory to murder—or helps us stop the men who ordered Kevin to gut that house.”
Amy flinched, pressing her back against the leather seat. “I didn’t know he was going to kill anyone! I swear to God, I just wanted the money!”
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“Money for what, Amy?” I demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “What did you do while I was away in Boston? What does any of this have to do with Grandpa’s land trust?”
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