Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
A fter the dismissive treatment from the police detective, a knot formed in Helen’s stomach as she followed Mel toward the resort’s side gate, trying to process everything that had happened. Just as they reached the gate, movement caught her eye. Brigitte Abramson walked purposefully toward the beach path, her blonde hair reflecting the subtle overhead lights. “Mel,” Helen whispered, touching her partner’s arm. “Look.”
Mel turned, and her eyes widened. “Let’s see where she’s going,” she said quietly. “But stay back a bit.”
They followed Brigitte at a discrete distance, using the shadows as cover. Helen noticed how Brigitte kept checking her phone, her movements growing more agitated with each glance at the screen.
“She’s meeting someone,” Mel murmured as Brigitte veered off the main path toward a more secluded area near a cluster of hibiscus bushes. “Quick, behind here.” Mel guided them behind some dense foliage just as another figure appeared.
It was Felicity Coedy, her red hair vivid even in the moonlight. “Where is he?” Felicity’s voice carried clearly in the humid air. “What did you do?”
Brigitte’s laugh held no humor. “Me? I thought you were the one who made him disappear,” she said. “Or isn’t that what literary agents do when their clients won’t cooperate?”
Helen felt Mel tense beside her as they listened. The accusation in both women’s voices seemed genuine, not performed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Felicity snapped. “I needed him to publish the story, not vanish. My entire career is riding on this book.”
“Your career?” Brigitte’s voice rose. “What about my father’s life? He was going to expose everything, ruin people who don’t like being ruined. And now he’s gone, and you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?”
Felicity stepped closer. “If I wanted to stop him from publishing,” Felicity said. “I would have used legal channels. Contracts, injunctions. Not whatever this is.”
“Then who?” Brigitte demanded. “Who else knew what he was writing about?”
Helen’s heart raced as she processed the implications. Neither woman seemed to know what actually happened to Abramson. They assumed one or both were involved, but watching them now, she wasn’t so sure. “The pale man,” Helen whispered to Mel. “Could he be working for someone else entirely?”
Mel nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the two arguing women. “Someone with more to lose than either of them,” she whispered back.
“He was going to run,” Brigitte said suddenly, her voice cracking. “Did you know that? He had a ticket to Singapore. He was scared.”
“Singapore?” Felicity’s composure slipped. “He never told me... When?”
“Tomorrow morning. But now...” Brigitte’s voice trailed off, and Helen saw genuine fear in the young woman’s face. The women’s argument ended abruptly at the sound of approaching voices from tourists on the path. They separated quickly, Felicity heading toward the beach while Brigitte took the path back to the resort.
Once they were alone, Helen turned to Mel. “What do you think?”
Mel’s jaw had that familiar set that meant she was processing information. “I think we’ve been looking at this wrong,” she said slowly. “Both women had motives to pressure Abramson, but neither seems to know what actually happened to him.”
“Which means someone else is involved,” Helen finished. They emerged from their hiding spot. Helen checked her watch. It was less than twenty-four hours before their flight home.
“I’m not sure,” Mel said. “We need to figure out who else knew about the book.” They walked back toward the resort. “Someone powerful enough to send a professional to handle the situation.”
* * *
Mel kept her eyes on Brigitte’s retreating form while her mind raced through the new information. Years of detective work had taught her to trust her instincts, and they were screaming that Brigitte knew more than she had revealed in that heated exchange. “We need to talk to her,” Mel said quietly. “Now, while she’s rattled.”
Helen nodded. “I agree,” she said, falling into step beside her as they followed Brigitte at a careful distance.
They caught up with her near the resort’s back entrance, where the path opened into a small courtyard dotted with empty lounge chairs. “Ms. Abramson,” Mel called, keeping her voice firm but non-threatening. “We need to discuss your father.”
Brigitte spun around, her face flushing when she recognized them. “Were you following me?”
“We saw your conversation with Felicity Coedy,” Helen said, her gentle tone balancing Mel’s more authoritative approach. “We know you’re both worried about your father.”
Something shifted in Brigitte’s expression—fear, maybe, or resignation. She glanced around the empty courtyard before sinking into one of the lounge chairs. “You don’t understand,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “None of this was supposed to happen.”
Mel took a seat across from her, studying the younger woman’s body language. “Then help us understand,” she said. “What exactly wasn’t supposed to happen?”
Brigitte’s laugh was hollow. “All of it. The book, the threats, the...” she swallowed hard. “I was supposed to convince him to kill the story. That’s all. Just talk him out of it.”
“Who hired you?” Mel pressed, watching Brigitte’s hands twisting nervously in her lap.
“I can’t... these people, they’re not the kind you cross.” She met Mel’s eyes. “But I swear I didn’t hurt my father. I would never. I was trying to protect him.”
Helen leaned forward. “Protect him from what?”
“From the truth about what would happen if he published.” Brigitte’s voice dropped. “They offered me a lot of money to convince him to drop it. Said it would be better for everyone. I thought I could make him understand the danger he was in. Danger like what happened to Mom.”
Mel exchanged a quick look with Helen. “These people who hired you, do you think they know about Singapore?”
Brigitte shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But who knows? When he told me about it right before he disappeared, I realized he was more scared than I thought.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I should have helped him leave instead of trying to stop him.”
“What about Felicity?” Helen asked. “Do you really think she was involved?”
“Felicity? No.” Brigitte’s laugh was bitter this time. “Especially not after talking to her. She’s ambitious and ruthless in her own way, but she’s not stupid. This book was going to make her career. A tell-all about corruption in the sports industry? With hard evidence? She stood to make millions.” She shook her head. “She wouldn’t risk losing that payday.”
Mel leaned back, processing this new information. A group of intoxicated tourists coming back from a nearby bar walked past, their laughter jarring against the tension of the moment. Mel waited until they passed before asking her next question. “Have you ever seen a pale man, tall and dressed in a suit?”
The color drained from Brigitte’s face. “Last week. Outside my apartment,” she said. “I didn’t think much about it.” Her voice cracked. “Oh god, did he...?”
“We don’t know yet,” Helen said quickly, shooting Mel a warning look. “But any information you can give us about who hired you could help us find your father.”
Brigitte glanced around again, her fear palpable now. “I never met them directly. Everything was through encrypted messages and cash drops. But...” she hesitated, then reached for her phone. “I saved screenshots of everything. I was worried they might try to double-cross me.”
Mel felt her pulse quicken as Brigitte pulled up the messages. Finally, something concrete to work with. But as she reached for the phone, a sharp ringtone cut through the air. Brigitte looked at the screen and went pale. “I have to go,” she said, jumping up. “They’re watching. They’ll know I talked to you.”
“Wait,” Mel started, but Brigitte was already hurrying away, her heels clicking rapidly on the stone path.
“Should we follow her?” Helen asked. Mel shook her head slowly. “No. She’s spooked now. But she gave us something valuable. She confirmed what we thought; that there’s a bigger player involved. Someone with enough resources for surveillance, encrypted communications, and professional muscle.”
“But we still don’t know what they knew about Singapore,” Helen added.
“You’re right,” Mel said as she stood, her mind already mapping out their next moves. “We need to find out who had access to his travel plans. Someone knew he was planning to run.” Mel hated her next thought, but in her gut, she believed it was true. “And they moved before he could.”
* * *
As the time on her cell phone revealed it was already past midnight, Helen watched as Mel paced, the woman’s mind clearly racing through possibilities. After their conversation with Brigitte, they decided to move again to a different hotel. Now, surrounded by cheap, generic hotel furniture instead of their cheerful vacation apartment, Helen felt the full weight of their situation.
“I think we were right about organized crime. It has to be someone with serious resources,” Mel said, more to herself than Helen. “Someone who could afford professional surveillance, a fixer, and enough influence to make Brigitte afraid to name names.”
Helen sat on the edge of the bed, her tablet open to Abramson’s manuscript. “The book mentions several major sports franchises,” she said. “Any one of them would have the money to secure those kinds of resources.”
Mel stopped pacing, turning to face Helen with that familiar look of determination. “We need to get this information out there,” she said. “Before whoever’s behind this confirms that we have it.”
“But how?” Helen asked. “The police won’t help, and we can’t exactly walk into a newspaper office.”
A slight smile crossed Mel’s face. “No, but I might know someone who can help.” She pulled out her phone. Helen watched as Mel scrolled through her contacts, finally selecting one. “I can call my contact in LA again. Mickey.” Knowing Helen could help more if she listened in, Mel put it on speakerphone.
“Twice in two days? I’m honored,” Mickey said. “What’s up, Nelson?”
“First, you’re on speakerphone,” Mel said. “My partner, Helen, is here with me, but no one else.”
There was a pause on the phone. “Okay,” Mickey finally said. “I’m going to go out on real limb here and trust you. Talk to me.”
“Thank you. Mickey, we need your help,” Mel said, sitting beside Helen on the bed. “Remember that background check you ran on Abramson? Well, we’ve got his story, and it needs to get out. But it needs to be untraceable.”
There was another pause on the other end. “How hot is this story?”
“Hot enough that someone’s willing to kill for it,” Mel replied grimly. “We need it released through channels that can’t be traced back to us or Abramson’s family.”
Helen listened as Mickey whistled low. “That’s not exactly easy nowadays, you know.”
“I know, but that’s what I need,” Mel said. “Can you help or not?”
Mickey sighed. “Send me what you’ve got,” he answered. “I know some people who know some people. Dark web journalists who specialize in exposing corruption. They can verify and release it without compromising sources.” Helen felt a mix of relief and anxiety at the man’s answer. What they were doing was far beyond anything she’d ever imagined, yet somehow it felt right. Necessary. “I’ll need to encrypt everything before you send it,” Mickey continued. “Give me an hour to set up a secure channel. And Mel? Be careful. If you’re right about this, people who kill to keep secrets tend to keep killing.”
After ending the call, Mel turned to Helen. “This is going to happen. You’re still one hundred percent sure?” she asked softly.
Helen reached for Mel’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I am,” she said. “We’re just helping the truth come out. Besides, it feels right. James Abramson wanted this story told.”
They spent the next hour preparing the files to send to Mickey. The manuscript, the video confessions, everything they’d found on the thumb drive. “Mickey’s good at what he does,” Mel said as they waited for his signal to upload the information. “He helped me crack some tough cases back in the day. And although I’m not proud of it, things did not always go through official channels.”
Helen nodded. “Sometimes we do what have to do. I’m sure that came in handy sometimes,” she said. “And these people he knows, will they be careful with the information?”
“They’ll verify everything before releasing it,” Mel assured her. “And they’ll protect their sources. It’s what they do.” The phone buzzed. It was a text from Mickey. He had sent the upload instructions.
Helen carefully followed each step, her hands steady despite the stakes. Finally, she set down the tablet. “It’s done.”
“Mickey will let us know when it’s been passed along securely.”
Helen felt a curious mix of relief and tension. “What do we do now?”
Mel checked her watch. “Now we lay low, and we wait.”
The hotel room felt smaller suddenly. Helen moved to the window, looking out at the tourist crowds below. Somewhere out there, a pale man in an expensive suit might be looking for them. The thought sent a chill down her spine.
“Hey,” Mel said softly, coming up behind her. “We’ll be okay. Our flight’s in the morning. Once the story starts circulating, we’ll be long gone.”
Helen leaned back against her partner, drawing comfort from her solid presence. “I know,” she said. “I just keep thinking about James. About what might have happened to him.”
“Me too,” Mel admitted. “But this is what he would have wanted. He knew the truth needed to come out.” Helen found herself watching the shadows, wondering what would happen next. Mel kissed the back of her neck. “We should get some rest. It’s a long ride home.”
Helen nodded, but she knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. Not with everything they had learned, everything they’d done. But as she felt Mel beside her, she knew they had made the right choice.