“You will turn over what you retrieved from Amy Holder in Atlanta or you will discover this isn’t going to end pleasantly for you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a silent deep breath. “I explained what happened there. I didn’t get it. It’s gone. Burned up in the fire.”
“Then what is in the safe deposit box?”
I look back at the picture of me on the front steps of the bank. “Please tell me you didn’t set me up with the cops because of this picture.”
“And you are now underestimating me,” he sneers. “I have the video surveillance from the security cameras inside the Wells Fargo branch on Peachtree Street. You rented the box before the Fire Department had fully doused the flames engulfing Amy Holder’s body. You never keep anything important on you, and this would have been the quickest and closest place to safely stash what you retrieved. The only reason we’re even having this conversation is because I don’t know the box number, nor do I have the signature card details.”
“It’s not what you think,” I say. “It has nothing to do with Amy or her death.”
The mechanical growl due to the voice changer makes me cringe. “Now is not the time to play dumb with me. You will go back to Atlanta, but I want you there on Wednesday. There is a room reserved for you at the Candler Hotel in downtown Atlanta. You will be met in the lobby on Thursday morning at ten a.m. by one of my representatives, and he will accompany you to the bank and inside the vault. He will remove the contents of the safe deposit box himself. If what you say is true, and the contents have nothing to do with the Amy Holder job, then we will put this matter to bed once and for all and continue forward as we have. And you will find the detectives in Atlanta will quickly lose interest in you.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you’ll call off the dogs if I show you the contents of the safe deposit box? And what about this job? I’m just walking away from it? For someone who hates failure, why is it okay for this job?”
“With the shit you’re in with me, that’s what you want to know? The only thing that matters is getting back what Amy Holder took. All of it.” He’s quiet a moment and then adds, “At one time you were my best asset and now look how far you’ve fallen.”
“I’m still your best asset and we both know it.”
The loud bark of laughter startles me. “You walked right in and talked to the cops. There’s a file with your name on it now. Did you even put up a fight when they asked for your fingerprints? There’s video of you from that interrogation room. Your composure must be commended.”
His words are like bullets, each one hitting the target.
“How many Judge McIntyres do you have hidden in your pocket?”
I let out a laugh that I hope doesn’t sound forced. “Enough that I can keep dodging the curveballs you’re throwing at me.”
“Unfortunately, Lucca, you made your choice, so now I’m making mine,” he growls.
“Don’t act like you haven’t been setting me up since the beginning. All these years. I’ve been one of your best, yet you’ve just been waiting around for the moment to turn on me.”
He makes a tsking sound. “Of course I have. Do you think I wouldn’t have a contingency plan in place if one of mine gets out of hand? Don’t get sentimental now. This is business.”
“Did the woman pretending to be me know what was going to happen to her when she took the job? Did you tell her it was a death sentence?”
“That woman was an unfortunate casualty. She had potential. But I’m always prepared to make the hard decisions. The Holder job is more important.”
And there it is. Confirmation that their deaths weren’t an accident. “Did she even finish the job you sent her on? Or did she let you down in some way?”
“She was sent to unnerve you. And she did. She was sent to make a name for herself as Lucca Marino. And she did. She was sent to dinner that night to make sure you were the last person to see her alive so the police would have no choice but to question your evening together. I thought I’d have to step in to make sure they became aware of the warrant out for you, but you made that easy on me too. Her snooping through your stuff was to get under your skin because I knew how much you’d hate that. The spreadsheet you left for her to find gave me a little laugh, though. Nicely played.”
The urge to scream at him and throw this phone until it breaks into a million pieces rolls through me, but I can’t show him how gutted I feel.
“What guarantees do I have that I won’t end up like her? She came in here to do a job and what thanks does she get? A nose dive off a bridge.”
“I can guarantee you will meet the same fate if you fail to deliver what I send you for a second time.” His tone softens when he adds, “I know you’ll do whatever is necessary to get that fairy-tale ending you’ve always wanted. Big house and garden you and Mama planned all those years ago while she was wasting away in that single wide. You can still have all that. I can make Evie Porter a distant memory and bring Lucca Marino back from the dead if you give me what I want.”
Does he honestly think I would believe that’s a possible outcome?
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—Atlanta was a bust. Whatever you wanted from Amy Holder, she took with her to the grave. That safe deposit box does not hold what you think it does.”
He waits a beat, then says, “This number will be disconnected the second this call ends. You know how it works. If you don’t meet my associate in the hotel lobby at the designated time, I’ll be forced to give the Atlanta PD everything I have. Those pictures are just a preview of the main show. You can still run, but you’re not a ghost anymore.” He adds one last thing before ending the call. “And the cops won’t be the only ones hunting you down.”
And then the line goes dead. I don’t try to call back, because he doesn’t make empty threats.
I take the paper he left me to the bathroom, drop it in the sink, then pull out the lighter I keep for the candles next to the tub. It only takes a few minutes for it to turn to ash. I wash away all traces of it before the smoke sets off any alarms.
Turning the shower on as hot as I can stand, I undress and step under the spray, desperately needing to wash the last several hours away.
There are a lot of questions that need answers.
There are a lot of emotions I’ll need to sift through. The anger that the man I’ve worked for all these years has turned against me in a way I could never imagine. The disappointment that washed over me upon hearing he built an identity for me from the beginning for the sole purpose of tearing me down. The bitterness that filled me when I discovered he was planning for my demise from the very first job. It all hits harder than I thought it would. Harder than I was prepared for.
But the part that’s hitting me the hardest is the death of the woman. She came in and did her job. It’s my fault she’s dead. That James is dead. If I wasn’t playing this game with Mr. Smith, she’d still be alive.
I scrub every inch of my body. Shampoo my hair. Wash my face. Anything to feel clean.
Her death sits heavy on my shoulders, it fills my lungs, it clouds my vision.
The bathroom door squeaks open, making me jump, even though I expect Ryan to come in to check on me once he gets back from his office.
Steam has fogged the glass, so I can’t make out his details until he opens the door. A line appears in the middle of his forehead as he stares at me. His expression is one I can’t read. Just when I think he’ll walk away, he quietly undresses and joins me. He takes the washcloth from me before turning me toward the shower wall. One hand lands on my hip, holding me in place, while the other runs the cloth in long, sweeping passes along my back and shoulders.
I turn back around and bury my face in his chest while the water rains down around us. And I cry. Once I start, I can’t stop. Big, broken sobs that wreck me.
Ryan whispers in my ear. Nonsense. Sweet words. Promises.