9. Siena
Siena
I t takes longer than expected to reach One Pearl Park Plaza. Rush hour grips the city in chaos—crowds surging across crosswalks, horns blaring, cars crawling forward in an endless gridlock.
At first, I curse the stop-and-go traffic, but as I pull up to the building, a cold realization settles in: I don’t know even what I’m looking for.
The blueprints focus on the building’s interior, but which part? And why?
Seeing Pearl Parking Garage across the street, I turn in and find a spot on the fourth floor.
While waiting for the elevator, I pause at the opening in the structure, staring at the building.
One Pearl Park Plaza looms over me, at least thirty stories tall, its old beige-brown bricks stretching upward, topped with rows of mirrored windows. At the entrance of the building, the lobby windows tower three stories high, gleaming in the fading daylight.
I remember when they renovated those windows when I was a kid. Dad took Emily, Franco, and me to a restaurant in the lobby to celebrate the reopening.
Those memories seem so distant, dulled by the weight of everything that’s happened. The rest of the building is a monolith, just offices, no stores, nothing that would draw attention. If it holds secrets to Emily’s death, it holds them tightly.
Crossing the street, I weave through traffic and climb the front steps, my bag slung over my shoulder.
Compared to the polished, business-casual professionals leaving work for the day, I’m a wreck. The same clothes I wore yesterday, the shoes that pinch and chafe. My feet ache, my bun sags, and my skin is tight from exhaustion.
It’s been over 24 hours since my life turned upside down, but it seems like days. The Diet Cokes that fueled my drive down and back are the only thing keeping me vertical, though I’m starting to feel rundown.
As I reach the steps to the building, my breath catches. There, through the massive lobby windows, sits Matti, the controlling asshole from the lake. Still in his suit, his sharp gaze focused on something inside, he looks terrifyingly composed.
I forget all about being tired and hungry when I spot him, and adrenaline floods my body. Franco was right! I did put a target on my back. Has he been tracking me since South Carolina? But how did he know I would be coming here when I didn’t even know until an hour ago?
The thought that he may not be here because of me crosses my mind, but it is far too coincidental for me to encounter this man in two different states on the same day accidentally.
Before I can think of a plan, his eyes snap to mine as if drawn by my stare. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to float away.
Slowly, he tilts his head, studying me like a predator sizing up his prey, and I irrationally freeze as if he were a Tyrannosaurus Rex who can’t see me as long as I stay still. Neither of us move as we stare at each other.
Another man joins him at his table. Similar suit, similar build, but darker skin, jet black hair, and a couple of inches shorter. He says something to Matti, but Matti doesn’t break eye contact with me.
The man follows his gaze, spots me, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. Raising his hand, he forms a gun with his fingers and thumb and points it at me.
Fuck. He is here for me, and he brought backup.
My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and I bolt up the stairs, shoving through the glass doors into the bustling lobby. The crowd becomes my shield as I duck low and veer away from the restaurant where Matti was sitting, heading deeper into the building.
My heart races as I scan desperately for a back door, an elevator, anything that could provide an escape. The marble floors make running in spike heels impossible, and I almost slip before kicking them off and carrying them.
I glance back, panicked, searching for Matti and his friend.
I see him, head and shoulders above the crowd, as he weaves between people, his gaze sweeping the room for me.
His friend is heading in another direction, boxing me in.
Luckily, I must be at least a foot shorter than him with my heels off, so I slip into a group and duck behind a tall potted palm, holding my breath as they pass on either side of me.
I spend a few minutes in my hiding place, giving them plenty of time to thread their way through the building away from me.
When I finally feel safe enough to move, I spot a large directory embedded in the wall with a list of companies and their corresponding floors. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but it seems like a good place to start.
Scanning the names, I try to match them to anything familiar. Vertex Marketing Solutions. Luminous & Co. Guardian Insurance. Apco Cleaning Supplies. Hubbard and Partners LLP.
Nothing jumps out as sinister or connected to Emily. In fact, none of them even look familiar except maybe Apco Cleaning. I think Sophie uses them for cleaning supplies and linens at her restaurant.
Luminous & Co also sparks a faint memory, something to do with diamonds and high end jewelry, unique designs I’ve seen on celebrities at awards ceremonies. But nothing screams criminal enterprise. Nothing connects to murder.
I’m lost in thought for a while, thinking over cases I’ve worked at the Victim Advocacy Center, trying to remember if one of them connected to any of the offices in this building. Thoughtfully, I turn—and slam into a brick wall.
Only it’s not a brick wall. My stomach drops as I look up and meet Matti’s piercing blue eyes.
“Shit,” I mutter, taking a step back. I pivot, ready to sprint back into the crowd, but Matti’s friend blocks my path, standing just a few feet away.
His dark eyes glint as he pulls back his jacket, revealing a gun holstered under his arm.
I clutch my shoes tightly, trying not to show how terrified I am. Behind me, Matti steps closer, his hand snaking around my waist, pulling my back to his chest .
His mouth is right next to my ear, and he keeps his voice low and calm. “Don’t do anything stupid. We’re no backwoods cops that you can rip off. Put your shoes on, and let’s walk out of here. Together.”