Milan
Nothing was moving. I stepped out of the stairwell and let the door close quietly behind me. The black wig made me look more different than I expected.
It wouldn’t trick anyone standing nearby, but it was enough to make a quick look less useful. I had changed into jeans, sneakers, and a dark sweatshirt.
I waited by the concrete wall.
I glanced at the elevator. Still nothing. I hated waiting when someone else decided the timing. I slipped my hand into my pocket and gripped the burner phone.
At 11:32, it started to vibrate.
WALK TO THE WHITE CAR.
I looked across the garage but stayed where I was.
Another message popped up.
YOU CAME THIS FAR.
I typed a reply.
SHOW YOURSELF.
Three dots appeared. Then they disappeared.
OPEN THE PASSENGER DOOR.
I stared at the car. Something about it felt off, but I walked toward it anyway. My footsteps echoed on the concrete.
Halfway there, headlights swept across the wall below me. A car turned into the garage from the ramp.
I stopped as a blue Mercedes passed slowly. An older couple sat inside. Neither looked at me. They drove on to the next level.
I waited for the sound to fade. When it was quiet, I reached the white car. The passenger door was unlocked. I opened it carefully. No one was inside.
The interior light came on. A manila envelope sat on the seat. My name was written across the front, not typed but handwritten.
MILAN
I looked around the garage. Still, no one was there.
I grabbed the envelope and closed the door.
The burner vibrated again.
STAIRWELL.
I turned. The door I entered through stood twenty yards away. My stomach tightened. I walked back. This time, I walked faster.
The moment I reached it, the phone buzzed.
DON’T GO INSIDE. OPEN THE ENVELOPE.
I leaned against the wall beside the door. Then I tore it open.
It was photographs.
At least twenty. The first showed Malcolm walking into a motel.
Date stamped six years ago. Two weeks before my arrest. The second photo showed China entering the same motel twenty minutes later.
I held my breath and flipped to the next one.
China was seen leaving, wearing different clothes and with her hair tucked under a baseball cap.
Next was Malcolm leaving. Then Warren, standing by his unmarked police car outside the motel that same night.
I looked closer.
“No.”
My mouth went dry. The next photograph was taken outside my apartment building. China wearing my coat. The camel-colored one I wore constantly back then.
She was climbing into my car. The date stamp showed it was the night before my arrest. I stared at it until the numbers blurred. The next photograph was even worse: China walking into the parking garage where the prosecution claimed I had been seen.
She wore the same hooded sweatshirt, and on her left hand was Grandma’s ring. There was no doubt now. It was my sister, my twin.
I pressed the picture against the envelope. I had imagined finding proof. I thought I would scream, cry, or break something when it happened.
Instead, I stood in the parking garage under harsh lights and felt completely numb. Maybe some betrayals are too big for an instant reaction.
The next photograph showed Malcolm inside the same garage. Then Warren with another man. He wore a maintenance uniform.
The final photograph showed him placing something inside the trunk of my car.
My heart pounded in my chest. I turned the photo over. There was a name on the back.
RONALD KEENE.
I recognized that name. Not because I knew him, but from the trial.
Ronald Keene was the building maintenance supervisor who testified he saw me leaving the garage. He told the jury he recognized the way I walked and was sure it was me.
I wanted to shout from the defense table that no one can recognize someone just by their walk. But people trust confidence. Ronald Keene was confident.
I took the rest of the papers out of the envelope. There were bank statements, copies of wire transfers, and a payment to Ronald Keene sent through a shell company.
I knew the company name because Malcolm had used it before for a real estate project. There was another transfer, this time to a private account. Warren’s name wasn’t there, but his brother’s was.
I whispered, “Jesus.”
The burner phone buzzed.
THEY BOUGHT THE CASE.
I typed quickly with both thumbs.
WHY?
This time, the reply took longer.
KEEP READING.
Only three pages remained. The first was a copy of an old police report.
Victim:
JEREMY VOSS.
My stomach twisted. That name hit me harder than the others.
Jeremy Voss. He was the man they said I killed.
I sat down on the concrete because my knees suddenly felt weak. Jeremy was one of Malcolm’s business partners. He wasn’t a close friend or someone I knew well. We had met maybe four times.
The prosecution said I went to Jeremy’s office after drinking and confronted him because I thought he helped Malcolm hide money from me.
The argument got violent. Jeremy was pushed down a service stairwell, broke his neck, and died before help arrived. My fingerprints were in the office. My scarf was near the stairs. Security footage showed me in the garage. A witness said I was there.
China testified that I was unstable. Malcolm said I believed Jeremy was ruining our relationship. Warren filled in the rest.
I told everyone the same thing, that I never went there but no one believed me.
The police report I held was dated six days before Jeremy died. He had filed it himself. I started to read.
Threats. A financial dispute. Missing money. He was afraid for his safety.
Then I stopped at one sentence.
Mr. Voss stated that if anything happened to him, police should investigate his business partner, Malcolm Banks.
I read it again.
The report had never been introduced at trial. I would’ve remembered. My attorney would’ve used it.
I turned the page. A handwritten note was attached.
REPORT CLOSED. COMPLAINANT RETRACTED.
Signed:
DET. W. COLE
The final page was a photocopy of an email.
Sender: Jeremy.
Recipient: China.
Subject: You need to tell her.
The email was short.
China,
I’m done covering this. Malcolm is moving money, and Warren knows about it. Milan has no idea what she’s mixed up in. If you care about your sister, tell her before this gets worse. I kept quiet because you asked me to, but I’m not doing it anymore.
J.
I stopped breathing. China knew. She knew Malcolm was doing something illegal. She knew Warren was involved. She knew Jeremy planned to expose them. And somehow, I became the murderer.
The burner vibrated.
I looked at the screen.
THEY DIDN'T FRAME YOU BECAUSE THEY HATED YOU.
Another message came.
THEY FRAMED YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE USEFUL.
My vision blurred. I wiped my eyes angrily. No. I was not crying here. Not in a parking garage.
I typed.
WHO KILLED JEREMY?
Nothing.
I waited.
WHO KILLED HIM?
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then:
ASK MALCOLM WHY HE WAS AT JEREMY’S OFFICE AT 9:14 THAT NIGHT.
I stared at the message. The prosecution claimed Jeremy died between 9:00 and 9:30. I typed back.
YOU HAVE PHOTOS. SEND THEM.
No answer.
SEND THEM.
I stood. My anger finally arrived. I had come home believing China and Malcolm helped frame me after Jeremy died.
That was terrible enough. Now I was beginning to understand something worse.
The burner buzzed. I glanced down.
LEAVE NOW.
I frowned. Then I heard the stairwell door open. Someone was coming up.
The burner vibrated again.
DON’T LET HIM SEE YOU.
Him.
I grabbed the photographs and stuffed everything back into the envelope. There was nowhere to hide. I hurried to the nearest SUV and crouched behind it.
Footsteps echoed in the garage. I stayed low. A shadow slid across the concrete.
Then a familiar voice muttered, “Come on.”
It was Warren. My whole body tensed up. He walked further into the garage. I saw his shoes under the SUV then he stopped.
The burner in my hand suddenly felt explosive. Warren pulled out his phone. I heard him tap the screen.
A second later, my burner vibrated. I almost dropped that shit.
The message wasn’t from an unknown number. It was a new one that I didn't recognize.
WHERE ARE YOU?
I slowly looked up. Warren was still ten feet away, glancing around, searching.
Then he dialed someone.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
Pause.
“No, she’s not here.”
Another pause.
“I said she’s not here.”
My heart pounded in my ears. He shifted slightly.
“I don’t care what you saw. I came up here myself.”
Someone must have told Warren I was in the garage. Who though is the question? Warren started walking again, coming closer. I pressed myself against the SUV. His shoes stopped on the other side.
I could hear him breathing. Then his phone rang. He answered immediately.
“What?”
I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying. Warren’s voice changed.
“When?”
Pause.
“Are you sure?”
Another pause.
“Does Malcolm know?”
I gripped the envelope tighter. Malcolm. Warren turned and walked away.
“I’ll handle it.”
He hung up. He stood still for a few seconds. I watched his shoes.
Finally, he walked toward the elevator.
The burner phone buzzed. It was the original number.
GO.
I didn’t hesitate. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, going down one level, then another. I left on the third floor, crossed to the other stairwell, and re-entered the hotel through the lobby.
No one paid any attention to me. By midnight, I was back in my room with the door locked.
I laid everything out on the bed. I looked at China’s name, then Malcolm’s, then Warren’s.
Punish them. Make them suffer. Take away everything they care about. Then kill them.
Three slow knocks sounded at my door. I froze.
“Milan?”
It was Malcolm's voice. It was 12:08 a.m.
Another knock.
“Milan, open the door.”
I slid the photographs under the comforter, stuffed the papers into the duffel, then pulled off the wig and hid it too.
“Milan.”
“I’m coming.”
I opened the door just a few inches. Malcolm was standing in the hallway alone.
He had taken off his jacket, and his tie hung loose around his neck.
“You were sleep?” he asked.
“On my way.”
He looked past me. I shifted, blocking the doorway.
“What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
"Hell no."
“Milan.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“I need to ask you something.”
I leaned against the doorframe.
“So ask.”
His eyes moved over my face.
“Where were you?”
That was it. I smiled.
“I've been in my room.”
“All night?”
“Why?”
“Just answer me.”
I stared at him.
“You’re not my boyfriend now, Malcolm.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“I went downstairs to get something from my car.”
“Ok, congratulations,” I smirked.
“I thought I saw you.”
I kept smiling.
“In the garage?”
He narrowed his eyes. I realized I’d just revealed the location, and I watched to see his reaction. He didn’t disappoint me.
“Yeah.”
I folded my arms.
“Maybe you did.”
Malcolm stared at me, then glanced down at my shoes. Sneakers. Damn, I had changed before going to the garage. At dinner, I’d worn heels. He noticed, and I saw where he was looking.
I looked back at him.
“I took a walk.”
“At midnight?”
“There's no set rules on walking.”
His expression shifted. He looked guilty.
“Where did you walk?”
“Around.”
“Did you meet somebody?”
I laughed softly.
“Now that sounds like jealousy.”
“I’m serious.”
“Oh, so am I,” I laughed.
He stepped closer.
“Milan, if somebody contacts you.”
I stopped smiling. He realized the mistake immediately. I opened the door wider.
“If somebody contacts me what?”
Malcolm said nothing.
“If somebody contacts me, what?” I repeated.
His jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer, but instead he looked down the hallway, then back at me.
“There are people who are going to try to stir things up because you’re back.”
“What people?”
“You know how this town is.”
“No.”
I stepped into the hallway.
“Actually, I don’t. I’ve been gone a long time.”
“Milan, lower your voice.”
“Why?”
China’s door opened. She stepped into the hallway wearing a robe.
“What’s going on?”
Malcolm looked at her. I watched them and caught the quick exchange in their eyes. They had a silent conversation.
China looked at me.
“Milan?”
“Your fiancé was just warning me about people.”
Her face changed.
“What people?”
“Good question.”
Malcolm sighed.
“This is getting blown out of proportion.”
I looked at China.
“Did you tell him I left my room?”
“No.”
Malcolm turned to her. China stopped moving.
“You two should really get better at lying.”
China’s face went pale.
“Milan.”
I stepped backward into my room.
“Good night.”
Malcolm pressed his hand to the door before I could close it. I froze.
“Move your hand.”
“We need to talk.”
I looked at his fingers on my door, then at his face.
“You already stole six years from me, Malcolm. I wouldn’t get greedy with my time.”
His hand dropped.
China whispered, “What does that mean?”
I looked at her.
“It means I’m tired.”
I closed the door and stood there until I heard them leave.
The burner vibrated again. I took it out of my pocket.
HE KNOWS SOMEONE IS TALKING.
I typed back.
YOU ALMOST GOT ME CAUGHT.
The response came immediately.
YOU WANTED REVENGE.
Then I typed the question I should've asked from the start.
HOW DO YOU KNOW I WANT REVENGE?
Three dots appeared on the screen.
BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME
I held my breath. Another message appeared.
SIX YEARS AGO. FINISH THEM!