Chapter 1 #2
“Someone killed him. I don’t know who! I didn’t see his face. I mean I saw…I saw the guard. The thing is…” She thought back to the conversation she’d overheard. “Mr. D’s niece is in danger. They were asking about her. You need to protect her.”
“Okay, ma’am. I’m going to give you the address of the closest police precinct. Go there and make a report. I’m dispatching emergency vehicles to the jewelry store now.”
The traffic was heavy, probably normal for rush hour in downtown Philadelphia. As Cici approached a red light, she checked her rearview mirror again. But she had no idea what kind of car the guard would be driving.
How was she supposed to know if she was safe?
She plugged in the address the dispatcher gave her. Of course she was going the wrong direction, getting farther from her goal with every second.
She managed to turn around and followed the directions to the police station. How had she gone from gazing at the most beautiful piece of jewelry she had ever seen to…this?
The Philadelphia traffic crawled, a sluggish beast of honking horns and exhaust fumes that did nothing to calm Cici’s frayed nerves. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. She’d been in the car for a good forty minutes. She’d swear she sat through every light in the city, some twice.
The precinct was only a few blocks away now—her GPS chirped directions in that infuriatingly calm voice—but every red light felt like a personal attack.
She’d call Forbes from the police station after she was safe. Right now, she needed to focus on getting there and getting inside.
Stopped again and watching traffic inch along the cross street, Cici kept picturing Mr. D’s body crumpling to the floor, the way that smooth-talking man’s voice had turned cold and commanding. “Find it. Now.”
The light turned green, and she eased forward. The precinct’s address glowed on her GPS screen: two blocks to go. She could do this. She’d tell the police everything—about the necklace, the murder she’d witnessed, and the men chasing her.
They’d handle it. They’d keep her safe.
But she wasn’t going to turn over the necklace, not if she could help it. She would return it to Forbes and let him handle it however he chose. He deserved to get his family’s heirloom back, not to have it languishing in some evidence locker.
A building ahead was much larger than she’d thought the police precinct would be. She was trying to figure out where she was supposed to park and where the front door was when a hulking figure peeked out from behind an SUV, his shaved head gleaming under the sun.
Her stomach dropped.
It was the guard from the store. He’d been behind her, hadn’t he? She’d driven all over the city, when obviously there’d been a faster way to get here. But how had he known her destination? Had he guessed, or…or had someone told him?
It made no sense.
“Please, don’t let him see me.”
But before the prayer was out of her mouth, the man’s gaze skimmed over her car, and then he stepped back behind the truck.
Hiding, probably hoping she hadn’t seen him.
Her heart thumped hard, her hands shaking as she dialed 911 again.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your—?”
“He’s outside the precinct!” Cici’s words tumbled out, high-pitched and frantic. “The man who killed Mr. Delvecchio. He’s waiting for me! I can’t stop. He’ll get me before I can get inside!”
“Ma’am, slow down. Who’s outside the precinct?”
“The guy from the jewelry store!” She took a breath. This obviously wasn’t the same operator.
She scanned the area, but she had nowhere to go. The traffic was too heavy to turn around. She couldn’t do anything but inch forward. “He’s big and bald, wearing a black shirt. He saw me. He’s coming after me! You have to arrest him!”
The precinct loomed to her left, its brick facade promising safety—if she could just get inside. But she’d never make it from the car to the door before he grabbed her.
“Which precinct, ma’am?”
“The one you sent me to.” She fumbled with her phone, pulled up the map, and read the address.
“You’re saying there are men outside the precinct, looking for you?”
“I witnessed a murder, and—”
“Dispatching police to your location.”
“They just need to run outside!” Cici watched the building, expecting uniformed police to swarm toward her.
Nobody came.
She was in the left lane, inching forward. Any second, and she’d come level with the truck where the man was waiting for her.
She clicked the button to lock the doors, then clicked it again. Just in case.
A half block ahead, there was a right turn, but the cars were stacked like crackers in a sleeve. No way for her to change lanes.
Up ahead, a red light stopped all the traffic.
If she got out and tried to get away on foot, the guard would see her. Her two-inch heels weren’t exactly made for running.
But if she stayed in the car, unless the police came, she’d be trapped.
The guard stepped out from behind the pickup. He wore earbuds and was speaking, probably telling the smooth-talking man exactly where she was.
He stepped onto the street a few cars ahead of hers, one arm swinging naturally by his side, the other tucked into his jeans pocket. He must have a handgun. As soon as he got close enough, he’d kill her. Just like that.
The light turned green, but the cars on the cross street blocked the intersection. Horns blared.
“Lord, help me.”
“Sit tight,” the operator said. “They’re coming.”
“Not fast enough!”
The guard was getting closer, heading straight for her.
The light ahead turned yellow, but the two cars in front of her snuck through.
Before she could gun it, a sea of pedestrians crossed, blocking her.
The guard was ten feet away now, his bulk parting the people like a shark through water.
Cici looked at the building, expecting to see police. Two exited the building, but they were too far away.
She looked to the right.
What she saw turned her blood to ice.
Another man was approaching from the opposite direction. He wore a suit and tie, and though she hadn’t seen the face of the man who’d killed Mr. D, she guessed this was him.
They had her flanked.
Her mind screamed at her to move, to do something. The light was red, people were still crossing, but she had no choice.
She mashed her horn and hit the accelerator, sending pedestrians scrambling out of her way. She floored it, the car surging forward, cutting off a delivery truck that blared its horn. She swerved into a right turn, away from the precinct, her tires screeching as she took the corner.
Her eyes flicked between the road and the mirror. No sign of them, but they’d follow.
“Ma’am,” the operator said. “Just sit tight—”
“If I’d sat tight, I’d be dead.”
“I need you to stay calm. Can you get to the police station? We can—”
“I can’t!” she snapped, her voice cracking. “They were too late. I’m driving away. Please, just send someone to get them.”
“You need to get to a safe location and file a report. Can you—?”
Cici ended the call. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t risk it. Her chest heaved as she changed lanes to pass a car, her mind spinning. She needed help—actual help.
She grabbed the phone again and dialed Forbes.
“Cici?” His deep voice filled the car, tight with worry. “Are you at the police—?”
“They were outside the station.” She took a breath, working to sound rational. “The men from the store, they were waiting for me. I couldn’t stop. They saw me.”
“Are you safe? Where are you?”
“I don’t know where I am.” She checked her mirror again, her pulse pounding in her ears. She had no idea what those men would be driving. “They’re going to find me. They saw my car—”
“I understand.” Forbes’s tone shifted, firm and commanding.
“I’ll book a room for you under the name Ford Baker.
I’ll text you the address of the hotel. Get there, use valet parking, and go straight to the desk.
Tell them you’re picking up a key for my reservation. Don’t stop for anyone. Can you do it?”
“If they don’t catch up to me.”
“Just keep moving. I’ll text you an address.”
He ended the call, and a moment later, a text came through.
Cici clicked it to open the map. The hotel was on the other side of town. The farther she could get from those two men, the better. As long as she could reach it before they found her.
Twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes of praying for safety. She wasn’t going to let them take her—or the necklace. She’d get to that hotel, lock herself in, and figure this out.