Chapter 3
Eddie dropped the crowbar slowly.
Too slowly.
Like he wanted us to know he was choosing to obey, not being forced.
The second man kept his phone raised until Rick looked at him.
“Lower it.”
He did.
Police thundered up the stairwell seconds later.
Maya unlocked the bathroom door only after I said the safe word we had made up when she was twelve and our mother’s boyfriend used to drink too much.
“Blue umbrella,” I called.
The bathroom door opened.
Maya flew into my arms.
She was shaking so hard I could barely hold her.
“I thought they were going to come in.”
“I’ve got you.”
My voice cracked.
Rick stood in the living room with police, answering questions like a man used to statements and evidence.
Eddie smiled at me from the hallway while officers cuffed him.
“You’re a lot of trouble for a bartender.”
I wanted to spit in his face.
Instead, I held Maya tighter.
The police found no damage beyond the scratched lock.
But the message was clear.
They knew where I lived.
They knew about my sister.
And they had gotten there less than an hour after Bradley left the bar.
Rick pulled me aside after officers took Eddie downstairs.
“I know him.”
“I noticed.”
“Eddie Russo. Former vice detective. Fired before charges stuck.”
“Works for Martin Vale?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why would Martin send ex-cops after me?”
Rick looked away.
I hated that.
“Because Bradley’s assault is not the biggest problem tonight.”
I stared at him.
“Then what is?”
Rick rubbed his jaw.
“The money Bradley threw at you.”
“The cash?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
He lowered his voice.
“Some bills were marked.”
My mouth went dry.
“Marked how?”
“Federal tracking powder. Invisible to the eye.”
I looked at my hands.
Rick shook his head.
“You didn’t touch enough. I bagged it.”
“Why would Bradley have marked bills?”
“Because Martin may be under investigation. Or setting someone up.”
Maya whispered, “Setting Chloe up?”
Rick didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
At three in the morning, we sat in a police station interview room.
Maya beside me.
Rick across from Detective Lena Torres, a woman with tired eyes and a voice like locked steel.
She asked me to describe Bradley’s attack.
I did.
Then Eddie at my apartment.
Then the messages.
Detective Torres listened.
Then she asked Rick, “When were you going to call me?”
Rick exhaled.
“When I had more than fear.”
“You have marked bills and Eddie Russo threatening a witness.”
“I have Chloe being dragged into something she didn’t ask for.”
Torres turned to me.
“Ms. Miller, did Bradley say anything before grabbing you?”
I nodded.
“He said he knew the owner and I’d be fired before I complained.”
“Anything else?”
“He said, ‘That’s what I’m paying for.’”
She wrote that down.
Maya’s hand tightened around mine.
Detective Torres looked at Rick.
“Martin Vale’s son doesn’t usually get his hands dirty in public unless he’s trying to create a scene.”
Rick nodded.
“A scene with cameras.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Rick looked at me.
“If Bradley provoked you into attacking him first, he could claim violence. Sue the bar. Force discovery. Freeze my license. Put pressure on me.”
“Why?”
Detective Torres answered.
“Because Rick is scheduled to testify next week.”
I turned to him.
“Testify?”
Rick’s face tightened.
“Against Martin Vale.”
The room went silent.
I stood.
“You promoted me into the middle of a war?”
“No,” Rick said. “Bradley dragged you into one before I walked through the door.”
Maya looked at me, scared.
I hated him in that second.
Maybe not fairly.
But completely.
Detective Torres’s phone buzzed.
She read the message and went still.
“What?” Rick asked.
She looked at me.
“Bradley just filed a police report.”
“Against me?”
“Yes.”
“For aggravated assault and theft.”
“Theft?”
Torres placed a photo on the table.
It showed my locker at the bar.
May you like
Inside was a bundle of cash.
And a bag of white powder.
