4. Sydney
CHAPTER 4
SYDNEY
Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, I couldn’t open the encrypted files. My computer skills are at the level where I can post to social media and attach a file to an email. Other than that, I don’t know what to do. So, I duplicated the flash drive, which required some special software to do, but that didn’t stop me. Now I can return the original back to Braxton. I’ll be glad to not have to be around him until I have the money in hand.
First thing in the morning, I go for a run, and by the time I get back, it’s time to return the original to Braxton.
After that, the next step is to take the copy of the flash drive to West Turner, have him help me crack into it, and find all the information I need.
Then when West helps me, I’ll be holding thirty million dollars and will have gotten sweet payback on the Italian mafia. They ended my dad’s career as a boxer, so it only seems fair that I take something from them.
I had a long stint of boring work in my parents’ office to help me dream up the perfect revenge. And for the opportunity to fall in my lap? Well I just couldn’t let it pass me up.
Of course, I’ll have to split it with Braxton, but then I can return home and tell my family all about my adventures. They’ll be in shock and awe that I pulled one over on the mafia with limited help. They try to baby me too much, never thinking I can handle anything on my own. Well, after this, they’ll see that I do just fine on my own. Maybe finally my parents will see that I’m as capable as my brothers.
With an extra pep in my step, I make my way to the second floor. Braxton gave me his room number because he didn’t want us to risk being seen in public together again. Of course, meeting him at his hotel room makes me uncomfortable, but I’ll just make sure to hand him the information then leave—especially given his behavior last night.
He’s a necessary accessory in this plot of mine. But oh boy, does he give me the ick.
He’ll go back to work for the mafia and act as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening. And I would like to get as far away from Braxton as possible.
Now that I have the information I need for my first-ever revenge plan, I’d like to go solo from here on out.
I walk past 201. Then 203. There’s a housekeeping cart parked next door to 205—Braxton’s room. If Braxton’s fears are founded and we shouldn’t be seen together, I should probably try to look less suspicious.
I can’t imagine anyone caring that he’s in a coastal town. But I’ll humor him.
Even though the hallway is empty, I grab a spray can from the cleaning cart and pick up a rag.
I approach the door and am surprised to see it’s open a crack.
Maybe he’s just about to leave for breakfast?
“Housekeeping!” I call out as I swing the door open with a shove. It hits the wall with a bang.
What I see on the other side has me freezing, disinfectant spray in hand.
There’s a body lying on the floor, a puddle of something underneath the head. It looks as though the blood is coming from his neck.
I glance down at the bottle in my hand. This is not enough disinfectant spray for this.
My eyes sweep the room once more. A vase full of fake flowers is tipped over on the desk. There’s a duffel bag sitting close to the door.
And Braxton is dead on the floor.
I try to open my mouth to scream, but the bathroom door opens, and out walks a man drying a knife on a towel.
For one stunned second, we stare at each other. Then he lunges at me, and I spray the aerosol can in his face. It smells like a chlorine pool, and it must sting like it too, because the man yells and grabs at his eyes. I don’t wait to see how long the effect lasts. I turn around and do the one thing I’m good at.
I run.
Sprinting past the main elevator, I head to the staircase.
My chest is burning. I glance down to see if the man from the bathroom had somehow lodged that giant knife in it.
All clear. No blood. I just forgot to breathe. I gasp and glance around the narrow stairwell, wondering what to do. I could get off on level two and hope he doesn’t search there…
Leave . That’s what. I need to leave. I need to get out of here.
I fly down the staircase, grateful I’m still wearing my running shoes.
My rental car is parked at the back of the small hotel. When I reach the parking lot, a darkly tinted SUV screeches into it from the exit-only driveway. The way he’s driving, I don’t think he’s a tourist. And he’s blocking the exit, so my car wouldn’t even make it if I tried to drive away.
I pivot and run straight out of the courtyard. I have to get away.
Top priority: Survive.
I was very good at meeting my goal of “adventure.” Now I have a new life goal. Hopefully my success rate will be just as good with this one.
Without my car, my options are limited. The police station is on the other side of the bay, and it would be way too easy for the murderer to catch me on the bridge.
That leaves me with only one possible nearby ally.
I sprint as fast as I can, cutting through the grass and brush, running across the street in front of a smart car that has to slam on its brakes.
My tennis shoes pound on the pavement as I run past the brewery. It seems to take forever to reach the Port of Newport office. I turn toward the RV park so that I can dodge in between the RVs. Finally, a sign for the port flashes past. Then I continue on past the small marina store, toward the dock.
West Turner. The name is flashing in my mind like a homing beacon. He’s a retired cop. He ought to be able to protect me.
Maybe he’ll be on his sailboat. Maybe he can help me. Bodie told me I could trust him. Now I’ll find out if he’s the kind of guy to save me from a murderer.
I run across the dying grass, scaring a few napping seagulls into flight. My lungs burn as I run past the county building then a small store next to the dock.
A glance behind me shows the SUV speeding down the road toward the parking lot entrance. They’ve been following me—and they’re nearly here.
I’m going to die today.