Abigail

There were only a handful of people scattered across the office with privacy screens hiding what they were doing.

"Kate, get me those reports in three hours," Some huge, bald headed man with tattoos crawling on his face barked orders at the workers inside before disappearing back into his office.

Most of the offices had their doors closed. I slipped into what looked like an old records room. Most of the filing cabinets were empty, but one in the far corner was locked. I stuck a bobby pin from my purse into the lock and wiggled it the way I had seen Annette do and it gave in after a few tries.

Inside, on one of the shelves, were three folders. The paper was better preserved than I expected. I pulled them out carefully and opened the first one under my phone’s torch.

There were contracts on the yellow pages filled with company names. I folded them carefully and put them in my bag. It didn’t look like anyone came in here? And if they did, I would be long gone anyway.

Hopefully.

The second folder contained printed emails. My eyes scanned the names rapidly until one stopped me cold.

Hugo Grant.

That was Dad.

My hands trembled as I scanned the fading letters. The date at the top was the day before my parents died. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

That very day. My fingers went numb, and the papers shivered in my grip, the words blurred together as I read the letter.

Owen, I need you to understand what I’m saying. Someone is blackmailing me. The higher-ups are threatening Isabella and I. What they’re doing here is wrong and you know it.

You’ve always known it. We’re going to quit. We might leave the country entirely and I think you should too. These people are vultures Owen. They will not stop. Please think carefully.

That was all I got. What exactly were these higherups doing? Who were the higher-ups? I clamped a hand over my mouth rereading the mail. So my parents had seen something they weren’t supposed to see.

Who was this Owen Smith? The email address at the top of the page was my father’s personal account, not a company’s.

So they had been monitoring his private email? Did Owen rat him out? What exactly were they trying to hide that they would go as far as killing my parents?

The sound of footsteps approaching had my head whipping up in that direction. Someone was at the front of the building. I folded the documents and shoved them into my bag alongside the contracts from the first folder.

I killed my torch and squeezed between two musty cabinets, the wood damp against my cheek. The footsteps grew louder and a beam of light raked across the corridor.

"You saw that flashlight right?" A gruff, male voice echoed through the corridor.

"Maybe we guessed wrong?"

I held my breath, my heartbeat thumping faster now as I crossed my fingers and hoped they wouldn’t find me.

The light beam swung away as the men moved on, their footsteps growing distant. I waited until the corridor was silent, then rushed to the elevator and jabbed the button so hard I almost broke it.

I made my way back to where I had hidden Kate Thomas but two men were already there. I tossed the stolen key card to the floor and darted towards the back of the building.

The back of the building was darker, the damage worse. The floor was uneven, debris crunching under my heels as I tried to move fast.

I had my phone in one hand, a bag clutched against my body with the other. A charred doorway loomed ahead . I ducked through, down the stairwell and out into the alley.

The cold, night air hit my face I took a deep breath, desperate to clear the musty stink that clung to my tongue and throat.

I willed my legs to walk faster out of the alley anf into the street. I couldn’t run. That would draw attention and there were people in the building. Seeing a woman bolting from an alley would only look suspicious as hell.

I made sure to keep walking down the street, fighting the urge to look back. Shit, what if they noticed the files were missing? I doubted it. That cabinet had been locked for ages. Why hadn’t the burnt them?

Shooting my arm out at a passing cab, I yanked the door open, and threw myself inside.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

Behind me, through the rear window, I saw two men in dark uniforms come out of the entrance of the rundown building.

"Just drive," the words tumbled out of me, fear creeping into my heart. "I’ll tell you when to stop,"

He pulled into traffic with a grunt. This was probably a classic New York experience for the old man.

I turned, watching the rear window. Behind us, two men in dark uniforms stepped out of the rundown building. I sank lower in my seat until the building disappeared from view.

I couldn’t go home straight, what if they traced the car or found me? That was paranoid as hell, but these people had sent a truck driver who almost hit me, I had every right to be paranoid!

My phone buzzed in my hand and I squeaked, nearly dropping it.

Annette: You have some explanation to do young lady. Why the hell are you at the industrial district?!

Shit, how did she know? Oh who was I kidding, it was Annie. She must have tracked my phone.

Annette: I called your guy asking if you’re with him and he tells me he dropped you off an hour ago! Abigail Fucking Kellerman, please tell me you’re not where I think you are!

Almost immediately, my phone pinged with a call from Finnegan, I silenced it and texted back.

Abigail: I’m fine. We’ll talk later,I promise.

Forty minutes later, I had the driver drop me off five streets away from my apartment. I paid him and began stalking down the street, throwing my head over my shoulder constantly. Every time a cat drove past, my heart jumped straight through my throat.

I even changed my direction twice and ducked into a small store for a few minutes just to watch the street behind me.

No one seemed to be following me.

Still, I kept my head down, clutching the bag with the stolen documents tightly against my body. I turned the corner onto my street, exhaling in relief when a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder from behind.

"Got you."